RODNEY STONE

PREFACE

Amongst the books to which I am indebted for my material in myendeavour to draw various phases of life and character in England atthe beginning of the century, I would particularly mention Ashton's"Dawn of the Nineteenth Century;" Gronow's "Reminiscences;"Fitzgerald's "Life and Times of George IV. ;" Jesse's "Life ofBrummell;" "Boxiana;" "Pugilistica;" Harper's "Brighton Road;"Robinson's "Last Earl of Barrymore" and "Old Q. ;" Rice's "History ofthe Turf;" Tristram's "Coaching Days;" James's "Naval History;"Clark Russell's "Collingwood" and "Nelson. "

I am also much indebted to my friends Mr. J. C. Parkinson and RobertBarr for information upon the subject of the ring. 

A. CONAN DOYLE. HASLEMERE, September 1, 1896. 

CHAPTER I--FRIAR'S OAK

On this, the first of January of the year 1851, the nineteenthcentury has reached its midway term, and many of us who shared itsyouth have already warnings which tell us that it has outworn us. We put our grizzled heads together, we older ones, and we talk ofthe great days that we have known; but we find that when it is withour children that we talk it is a hard matter to make themunderstand. We and our fathers before us lived much the same life, but they with their railway trains and their steamboats belong to adifferent age. It is true that we can put history-books into theirhands, and they can read from them of our weary struggle of two andtwenty years with that great and evil man. They can learn howFreedom fled from the whole broad continent, and how Nelson's bloodwas shed, and Pitt's noble heart was broken in striving that sheshould not pass us for ever to take refuge with our brothers acrossthe Atlantic. All this they can read, with the date of this treatyor that battle, but I do not know where they are to read ofourselves, of the folk we were, and the lives we led, and how theworld seemed to our eyes when they were young as theirs are now. 

If I take up my pen to tell you about this, you must not look forany story at my hands, for I was only in my earliest manhood whenthese things befell; and although I saw something of the stories ofother lives, I could scarce claim one of my own. It is the love ofa woman that makes the story of a man, and many a year was to passbefore I first looked into the eyes of the mother of my children. To us it seems but an affair of yesterday, and yet those childrencan now reach the plums in the garden whilst we are seeking for aladder, and where we once walked with their little hands in ours, weare glad now to lean upon their arms. But I shall speak of a timewhen the love of a mother was the only love I knew, and if you seekfor something more, then it is not for you that I write. But if youwould come out with me into that forgotten world; if you would knowBoy Jim and Champion Harrison; if you would meet my father, one ofNelson's own men; if you would catch a glimpse of that great seamanhimself, and of George, afterwards the unworthy King of England; if, above all, you would see my famous uncle, Sir Charles Tregellis, theKing of the Bucks, and the great fighting men whose names are stillhousehold words amongst you, then give me your hand and let usstart. 

But I must warn you also that, if you think you will find much thatis of interest in your guide, you are destined to disappointment. When I look over my bookshelves, I can see that it is only the wiseand witty and valiant who have ventured to write down theirexperiences. For my own part, if I were only assured that I was asclever and brave as the average man about me, I should be wellsatisfied. Men of their hands have thought well of my brains, andmen of brains of my hands, and that is the best that I can say ofmyself. Save in the one matter of having an inborn readiness formusic, so that the mastery of any instrument comes very easily andnaturally to me, I cannot recall any single advantage which I canboast over my fellows. In all things I have been a half-way man, for I am of middle height, my eyes are neither blue nor grey, and myhair, before Nature dusted it with her powder, was betwixt flaxenand brown. I may, perhaps, claim this: that through life I havenever felt a touch of jealousy as I have admired a better man thanmyself, and that I have always seen all things as they are, myselfincluded, which should count in my favour now that I sit down in mymature age to write my memories. With your permission, then, wewill push my own personality as far as possible out of the picture. If you can conceive me as a thin and colourless cord upon which mywould-be pearls are strung, you will be accepting me upon the termswhich I should wish. 

Our family, the Stones, have for many generations belonged to thenavy, and it has been a custom among us for the eldest son to takethe name of his father's favourite commander. Thus we can trace ourlineage back to old Vernon Stone, who commanded a high-sterned, peak-nosed, fifty-gun ship against the Dutch. Through Hawke Stoneand Benbow Stone we came down to my father, Anson Stone, who in histurn christened me Rodney, at the parish church of St. Thomas atPortsmouth in the year of grace 1786. 

Out of my window as I write I can see my own great lad in thegarden, and if I were to call out "Nelson!" you would see that Ihave been true to the traditions of our family. 

My dear mother, the best that ever a man had, was the seconddaughter of the Reverend John Tregellis, Vicar of Milton, which is asmall parish upon the borders of the marshes of Langstone. She cameof a poor family, but one of some position, for her elder brotherwas the famous Sir Charles Tregellis, who, having inherited themoney of a wealthy East Indian merchant, became in time the talk ofthe town and the very particular friend of the Prince of Wales. Ofhim I shall have more to say hereafter; but you will note now thathe was my own uncle, and brother to my mother. 

I can remember her all through her beautiful life for she was but agirl when she married, and little more when I can first recall herbusy fingers and her gentle voice. I see her as a lovely woman withkind, dove's eyes, somewhat short of stature it is true, butcarrying herself very bravely. In my memories of those days she isclad always in some purple shimmering stuff, with a white kerchiefround her long white neck, and I see her fingers turning and dartingas she works at her knitting. I see her again in her middle years, sweet and loving, planning, contriving, achieving, with the fewshillings a day of a lieutenant's pay on which to support thecottage at Friar's Oak, and to keep a fair face to the world. Andnow, if I do but step into the parlour, I can see her once more, with over eighty years of saintly life behind her, silver-haired, placid-faced, with her dainty ribboned cap, her gold-rimmed glasses, and her woolly shawl with the blue border. I loved her young and Ilove her old, and when she goes she will take something with herwhich nothing in the world can ever make good to me again. You mayhave many friends, you who read this, and you may chance to marrymore than once, but your mother is your first and your last. Cherish her, then, whilst you may, for the day will come when everyhasty deed or heedless word will come back with its sting to hive inyour own heart. 

Such, then, was my mother; and as to my father, I can describe himbest when I come to the time when he returned to us from theMediterranean. During all my childhood he was only a name to me, and a face in a miniature hung round my mother's neck. At firstthey told me he was fighting the French, and then after some yearsone heard less about the French and more about General Buonaparte. I remember the awe with which one day in Thomas Street, Portsmouth, I saw a print of the great Corsican in a bookseller's window. This, then, was the arch enemy with whom my father spent his life interrible and ceaseless contest. To my childish imagination it was apersonal affair, and I for ever saw my father and this clean-shaven, thin-lipped man swaying and reeling in a deadly, year-long grapple. It was not until I went to the Grammar School that I understood howmany other little boys there were whose fathers were in the samecase. 

Only once in those long years did my father return home, which willshow you what it meant to be the wife of a sailor in those days. Itwas just after we had moved from Portsmouth to Friar's Oak, whitherhe came for a week before he set sail with Admiral Jervis to helphim to turn his name into Lord St. Vincent. I remember that hefrightened as well as fascinated me with his talk of battles, and Ican recall as if it were yesterday the horror with which I gazedupon a spot of blood upon his shirt ruffle, which had come, as Ihave no doubt, from a mischance in shaving. At the time I neverquestioned that it had spurted from some stricken Frenchman orSpaniard, and I shrank from him in terror when he laid his hornyhand upon my head. My mother wept bitterly when he was gone, butfor my own part I was not sorry to see his blue back and whiteshorts going down the garden walk, for I felt, with the heedlessselfishness of a child, that we were closer together, she and I, when we were alone. 

I was in my eleventh year when we moved from Portsmouth to Friar'sOak, a little Sussex village to the north of Brighton, which wasrecommended to us by my uncle, Sir Charles Tregellis, one of whosegrand friends, Lord Avon, had had his seat near there. The reasonof our moving was that living was cheaper in the country, and thatit was easier for my mother to keep up the appearance of agentlewoman when away from the circle of those to whom she could notrefuse hospitality. They were trying times those to all save thefarmers, who made such profits that they could, as I have heard, afford to let half their land lie fallow, while living likegentlemen upon the rest. Wheat was at a hundred and ten shillings aquarter, and the quartern loaf at one and ninepence. Even in thequiet of the cottage of Friar's Oak we could scarce have lived, wereit not that in the blockading squadron in which my father wasstationed there was the occasional chance of a little prize-money. The line-of-battle ships themselves, tacking on and off outsideBrest, could earn nothing save honour; but the frigates inattendance made prizes of many coasters, and these, as is the ruleof the service, were counted as belonging to the fleet, and theirproduce divided into head-money. In this manner my father was ableto send home enough to keep the cottage and to pay for me at the dayschool of Mr. Joshua Allen, where for four years I learned all thathe had to teach. It was at Allen's school that I first knew JimHarrison, Boy Jim as he has always been called, the nephew ofChampion Harrison of the village smithy. I can see him as he was inthose days with great, floundering, half-formed limbs like aNewfoundland puppy, and a face that set every woman's head round ashe passed her. It was in those days that we began our lifelongfriendship, a friendship which still in our waning years binds usclosely as two brothers. I taught him his exercises, for he neverloved the sight of a book, and he in turn made me box and wrestle, tickle trout on the Adur, and snare rabbits on Ditching Down, forhis hands were as active as his brain was slow. He was two years myelder, however, so that, long before I had finished my schooling, hehad gone to help his uncle at the smithy. 

Friar's Oak is in a dip of the Downs, and the forty-third milestonebetween London and Brighton lies on the skirt of the village. It isbut a small place, with an ivied church, a fine vicarage, and a rowof red-brick cottages each in its own little garden. At one end wasthe forge of Champion Harrison, with his house behind it, and at theother was Mr. Allen's school. The yellow cottage, standing back alittle from the road, with its upper story bulging forward and acrisscross of black woodwork let into the plaster, is the one inwhich we lived. I do not know if it is still standing, but I shouldthink it likely, for it was not a place much given to change. 

Just opposite to us, at the other side of the broad, white road, wasthe Friar's Oak Inn, which was kept in my day by John Cummings, aman of excellent repute at home, but liable to strange outbreakswhen he travelled, as will afterwards become apparent. Though therewas a stream of traffic upon the road, the coaches from Brightonwere too fresh to stop, and those from London too eager to reachtheir journey's end, so that if it had not been for an occasionalbroken trace or loosened wheel, the landlord would have had only thethirsty throats of the village to trust to. Those were the dayswhen the Prince of Wales had just built his singular palace by thesea, and so from May to September, which was the Brighton season, there was never a day that from one to two hundred curricles, chaises, and phaetons did not rattle past our doors. Many a summerevening have Boy Jim and I lain upon the grass, watching all thesegrand folk, and cheering the London coaches as they came roaringthrough the dust clouds, leaders and wheelers stretched to theirwork, the bugles screaming and the coachmen with their low-crowned, curly-brimmed hats, and their faces as scarlet as their coats. Thepassengers used to laugh when Boy Jim shouted at them, but if theycould have read his big, half-set limbs and his loose shouldersaright, they would have looked a little harder at him, perhaps, andgiven him back his cheer. 

Boy Jim had never known a father or a mother, and his whole life hadbeen spent with his uncle, Champion Harrison. Harrison was theFriar's Oak blacksmith, and he had his nickname because he foughtTom Johnson when he held the English belt, and would most certainlyhave beaten him had the Bedfordshire magistrates not appeared tobreak up the fight. For years there was no such glutton to takepunishment and no more finishing hitter than Harrison, though he wasalways, as I understand, a slow one upon his feet. At last, in afight with Black Baruk the Jew, he finished the battle with such alashing hit that he not only knocked his opponent over the innerropes, but he left him betwixt life and death for long three weeks. During all this time Harrison lived half demented, expecting everyhour to feel the hand of a Bow Street runner upon his collar, and tobe tried for his life. This experience, with the prayers of hiswife, made him forswear the ring for ever, and carry his greatmuscles into the one trade in which they seemed to give him anadvantage. There was a good business to be done at Friar's Oak fromthe passing traffic and the Sussex farmers, so that he soon becamethe richest of the villagers; and he came to church on a Sunday withhis wife and his nephew, looking as respectable a family man as onewould wish to see. 

He was not a tall man, not more than five feet seven inches, and itwas often said that if he had had an extra inch of reach he wouldhave been a match for Jackson or Belcher at their best. His chestwas like a barrel, and his forearms were the most powerful that Ihave ever seen, with deep groves between the smooth-swelling muscleslike a piece of water-worn rock. In spite of his strength, however, he was of a slow, orderly, and kindly disposition, so that there wasno man more beloved over the whole country side. His heavy, placid, clean-shaven face could set very sternly, as I have seen uponoccasion; but for me and every child in the village there was ever asmile upon his lips and a greeting in his eyes. There was not abeggar upon the country side who did not know that his heart was assoft as his muscles were hard. 

There was nothing that he liked to talk of more than his oldbattles, but he would stop if he saw his little wife coming, for theone great shadow in her life was the ever-present fear that some dayhe would throw down sledge and rasp and be off to the ring oncemore. And you must be reminded here once for all that that formercalling of his was by no means at that time in the debased conditionto which it afterwards fell. Public opinion has gradually becomeopposed to it, for the reason that it came largely into the hands ofrogues, and because it fostered ringside ruffianism. Even thehonest and brave pugilist was found to draw villainy round him, justas the pure and noble racehorse does. For this reason the Ring isdying in England, and we may hope that when Caunt and Bendigo havepassed away, they may have none to succeed them. But it wasdifferent in the days of which I speak. Public opinion was thenlargely in its favour, and there were good reasons why it should beso. It was a time of war, when England with an army and navycomposed only of those who volunteered to fight because they hadfighting blood in them, had to encounter, as they would now have toencounter, a power which could by despotic law turn every citizeninto a soldier. If the people had not been full of this lust forcombat, it is certain that England must have been overborne. And itwas thought, and is, on the face of it, reasonable, that a strugglebetween two indomitable men, with thirty thousand to view it andthree million to discuss it, did help to set a standard of hardihoodand endurance. Brutal it was, no doubt, and its brutality is theend of it; but it is not so brutal as war, which will survive it. Whether it is logical now to teach the people to be peaceful in anage when their very existence may come to depend upon their beingwarlike, is a question for wiser heads than mine. But that was whatwe thought of it in the days of your grandfathers, and that is whyyou might find statesmen and philanthropists like Windham, Fox, andAlthorp at the side of the Ring. 

The mere fact that solid men should patronize it was enough initself to prevent the villainy which afterwards crept in. For overtwenty years, in the days of Jackson, Brain, Cribb, the Belchers, Pearce, Gully, and the rest, the leaders of the Ring were men whosehonesty was above suspicion; and those were just the twenty yearswhen the Ring may, as I have said, have served a national purpose. You have heard how Pearce saved the Bristol girl from the burninghouse, how Jackson won the respect and friendship of the best men ofhis age, and how Gully rose to a seat in the first ReformedParliament. These were the men who set the standard, and theirtrade carried with it this obvious recommendation, that it is one inwhich no drunken or foul-living man could long succeed. There wereexceptions among them, no doubt--bullies like Hickman and bruteslike Berks; in the main, I say again that they were honest men, brave and enduring to an incredible degree, and a credit to thecountry which produced them. It was, as you will see, my fate tosee something of them, and I speak of what I know. 

In our own village, I can assure you that we were very proud of thepresence of such a man as Champion Harrison, and if folks stayed atthe inn, they would walk down as far as the smithy just to have thesight of him. And he was worth seeing, too, especially on awinter's night when the red glare of the forge would beat upon hisgreat muscles and upon the proud, hawk-face of Boy Jim as theyheaved and swayed over some glowing plough coulter, framingthemselves in sparks with every blow. He would strike once with histhirty-pound swing sledge, and Jim twice with his hand hammer; andthe "Clunk--clink, clink! clunk--clink, clink!" would bring meflying down the village street, on the chance that, since they wereboth at the anvil, there might be a place for me at the bellows. 

Only once during those village years can I remember ChampionHarrison showing me for an instant the sort of man that he had been. It chanced one summer morning, when Boy Jim and I were standing bythe smithy door, that there came a private coach from Brighton, withits four fresh horses, and its brass-work shining, flying along withsuch a merry rattle and jingling, that the Champion came running outwith a hall-fullered shoe in his tongs to have a look at it. Agentleman in a white coachman's cape--a Corinthian, as we would callhim in those days--was driving, and half a dozen of his fellows, laughing and shouting, were on the top behind him. It may have beenthat the bulk of the smith caught his eye, and that he acted in purewantonness, or it may possibly have been an accident, but, as heswung past, the twenty-foot thong of the driver's whip hissed round, and we heard the sharp snap of it across Harrison's leather apron. 

"Halloa, master!" shouted the smith, looking after him. "You're notto be trusted on the box until you can handle your whip better'nthat. "

"What's that?" cried the driver, pulling up his team. 

"I bid you have a care, master, or there will be some one-eyed folkalong the road you drive. "

"Oh, you say that, do you?" said the driver, putting his whip intoits socket and pulling off his driving-gloves. "I'll have a littletalk with you, my fine fellow. "

The sporting gentlemen of those days were very fine boxers for themost part, for it was the mode to take a course of Mendoza, just asa few years afterwards there was no man about town who had not hadthe mufflers on with Jackson. Knowing their own prowess, they neverrefused the chance of a wayside adventure, and it was seldom indeedthat the bargee or the navigator had much to boast of after a youngblood had taken off his coat to him. 

This one swung himself off the box-seat with the alacrity of a manwho has no doubts about the upshot of the quarrel, and after hanginghis caped coat upon the swingle-bar, he daintily turned up theruffled cuffs of his white cambric shirt. 

"I'll pay you for your advice, my man, " said he. 

I am sure that the men upon the coach knew who the burly smith was, and looked upon it as a prime joke to see their companion walk intosuch a trap. They roared with delight, and bellowed out scraps ofadvice to him. 

"Knock some of the soot off him, Lord Frederick!" they shouted. "Give the Johnny Raw his breakfast. Chuck him in among his owncinders! Sharp's the word, or you'll see the back of him. "

Encouraged by these cries, the young aristocrat advanced upon hisman. The smith never moved, but his mouth set grim and hard, whilehis tufted brows came down over his keen, grey eyes. The tongs hadfallen, and his hands were hanging free. 

"Have a care, master, " said he. "You'll get pepper if you don't. "

Something in the assured voice, and something also in the quietpose, warned the young lord of his danger. I saw him look hard athis antagonist, and as he did so, his hands and his jaw droppedtogether. 

"By Gad!" he cried, "it's Jack Harrison!"

"My name, master!"

"And I thought you were some Essex chaw-bacon! Why, man, I haven'tseen you since the day you nearly killed Black Baruk, and cost me acool hundred by doing it. "

How they roared on the coach. 

"Smoked! Smoked, by Gad!" they yelled. "It's Jack Harrison thebruiser! Lord Frederick was going to take on the ex-champion. Givehim one on the apron, Fred, and see what happens. "

But the driver had already climbed back into his perch, laughing asloudly as any of his companions. 

"We'll let you off this time, Harrison, " said he. "Are those yoursons down there?"

"This is my nephew, master. "

"Here's a guinea for him! He shall never say I robbed him of hisuncle. " And so, having turned the laugh in his favour by his merryway of taking it, he cracked his whip, and away they flew to makeLondon under the five hours; while Jack Harrison, with his half-fullered shoe in his hand, went whistling back to the forge. 

CHAPTER II--THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL

So much for Champion Harrison! Now, I wish to say something moreabout Boy Jim, not only because he was the comrade of my youth, butbecause you will find as you go on that this book is his storyrather than mine, and that there came a time when his name and hisfame were in the mouths of all England. You will bear with me, therefore, while I tell you of his character as it was in thosedays, and especially of one very singular adventure which neither ofus are likely to forget. 

It was strange to see Jim with his uncle and his aunt, for he seemedto be of another race and breed to them. Often I have watched themcome up the aisle upon a Sunday, first the square, thick-set man, and then the little, worn, anxious-eyed woman, and last thisglorious lad with his clear-cut face, his black curls, and his stepso springy and light that it seemed as if he were bound to earth bysome lesser tie than the heavy-footed villagers round him. He hadnot yet attained his full six foot of stature, but no judge of a man(and every woman, at least, is one) could look at his perfectshoulders, his narrow loins, and his proud head that sat upon hisneck like an eagle upon its perch, without feeling that sober joywhich all that is beautiful in Nature gives to us--a vague self-content, as though in some way we also had a hand in the making ofit. 

But we are used to associate beauty with softness in a man. I donot know why they should be so coupled, and they never were withJim. Of all men that I have known, he was the most iron-hard inbody and in mind. Who was there among us who could walk with him, or run with him, or swim with him? Who on all the country side, save only Boy Jim, would have swung himself over Wolstonbury Cliff, and clambered down a hundred feet with the mother hawk flapping athis ears in the vain struggle to hold him from her nest? He was butsixteen, with his gristle not yet all set into bone, when he foughtand beat Gipsy Lee, of Burgess Hill, who called himself the "Cock ofthe South Downs. " It was after this that Champion Harrison took histraining as a boxer in hand. 

"I'd rather you left millin' alone, Boy Jim, " said he, "and so hadthe missus; but if mill you must, it will not be my fault if youcannot hold up your hands to anything in the south country. "

And it was not long before he made good his promise. 

I have said already that Boy Jim had no love for his books, but bythat I meant school-books, for when it came to the reading ofromances or of anything which had a touch of gallantry or adventure, there was no tearing him away from it until it was finished. Whensuch a book came into his hands, Friar's Oak and the smithy became adream to him, and his life was spent out upon the ocean or wanderingover the broad continents with his heroes. And he would draw meinto his enthusiasms also, so that I was glad to play Friday to hisCrusoe when he proclaimed that the Clump at Clayton was a desertisland, and that we were cast upon it for a week. But when I foundthat we were actually to sleep out there without covering everynight, and that he proposed that our food should be the sheep of theDowns (wild goats he called them) cooked upon a fire, which was tobe made by the rubbing together of two sticks, my heart failed me, and on the very first night I crept away to my mother. But Jimstayed out there for the whole weary week--a wet week it was, too!--and came back at the end of it looking a deal wilder and dirtierthan his hero does in the picture-books. It is well that he hadonly promised to stay a week, for, if it had been a month, he wouldhave died of cold and hunger before his pride would have let himcome home. 

His pride!--that was the deepest thing in all Jim's nature. It is amixed quality to my mind, half a virtue and half a vice: a virtuein holding a man out of the dirt; a vice in making it hard for himto rise when once he has fallen. Jim was proud down to the verymarrow of his bones. You remember the guinea that the young lordhad thrown him from the box of the coach? Two days later somebodypicked it from the roadside mud. Jim only had seen where it hadfallen, and he would not deign even to point it out to a beggar. Nor would he stoop to give a reason in such a case, but would answerall remonstrances with a curl of his lip and a flash of his darkeyes. Even at school he was the same, with such a sense of his owndignity, that other folk had to think of it too. He might say, ashe did say, that a right angle was a proper sort of angle, or putPanama in Sicily, but old Joshua Allen would as soon have thought ofraising his cane against him as he would of letting me off if I hadsaid as much. And so it was that, although Jim was the son ofnobody, and I of a King's officer, it always seemed to me to havebeen a condescension on his part that he should have chosen me ashis friend. 

It was this pride of Boy Jim's which led to an adventure which makesme shiver now when I think of it. 

It happened in the August of '99, or it may have been in the earlydays of September; but I remember that we heard the cuckoo inPatcham Wood, and that Jim said that perhaps it was the last of him. I was still at school, but Jim had left, he being nigh sixteen and Ithirteen. It was my Saturday half-holiday, and we spent it, as weoften did, out upon the Downs. Our favourite place was beyondWolstonbury, where we could stretch ourselves upon the soft, springy, chalk grass among the plump little Southdown sheep, chatting with the shepherds, as they leaned upon their queer oldPyecombe crooks, made in the days when Sussex turned out more ironthan all the counties of England. 

It was there that we lay upon that glorious afternoon. If we choseto roll upon our right sides, the whole weald lay in front of us, with the North Downs curving away in olive-green folds, with hereand there the snow-white rift of a chalk-pit; if we turned upon ourleft, we overlooked the huge blue stretch of the Channel. A convoy, as I can well remember, was coming up it that day, the timid flockof merchantmen in front; the frigates, like well-trained dogs, uponthe skirts; and two burly drover line-of-battle ships rolling alongbehind them. My fancy was soaring out to my father upon the waters, when a word from Jim brought it back on to the grass like a broken-winged gull. 

"Roddy, " said he, "have you heard that Cliffe Royal is haunted?"

Had I heard it? Of course I had heard it. Who was there in all theDown country who had not heard of the Walker of Cliffe Royal?

"Do you know the story of it, Roddy?"

"Why, " said I, with some pride, "I ought to know it, seeing that mymother's brother, Sir Charles Tregellis, was the nearest friend ofLord Avon, and was at this card-party when the thing happened. Iheard the vicar and my mother talking about it last week, and it wasall so clear to me that I might have been there when the murder wasdone. "

"It is a strange story, " said Jim, thoughtfully; "but when I askedmy aunt about it, she would give me no answer; and as to my uncle, he cut me short at the very mention of it. "

"There is a good reason for that, " said I, "for Lord Avon was, as Ihave heard, your uncle's best friend; and it is but natural that hewould not wish to speak of his disgrace. "

"Tell me the story, Roddy. "

"It is an old one now--fourteen years old--and yet they have not gotto the end of it. There were four of them who had come down fromLondon to spend a few days in Lord Avon's old house. One was hisown young brother, Captain Barrington; another was his cousin, SirLothian Hume; Sir Charles Tregellis, my uncle, was the third; andLord Avon the fourth. They are fond of playing cards for money, these great people, and they played and played for two days and anight. Lord Avon lost, and Sir Lothian lost, and my uncle lost, andCaptain Barrington won until he could win no more. He won theirmoney, but above all he won papers from his elder brother whichmeant a great deal to him. It was late on a Monday night that theystopped playing. On the Tuesday morning Captain Barrington wasfound dead beside his bed with his throat cut. 

"And Lord Avon did it?"

"His papers were found burned in the grate, his wristband wasclutched in the dead man's hand, and his knife lay beside the body. "

"Did they hang him, then?"

"They were too slow in laying hands upon him. He waited until hesaw that they had brought it home to him, and then he fled. He hasnever been seen since, but it is said that he reached America. "

"And the ghost walks?"

"There are many who have seen it. "

"Why is the house still empty?"

"Because it is in the keeping of the law. Lord Avon had nochildren, and Sir Lothian Hume--the same who was at the card-party--is his nephew and heir. But he can touch nothing until he can proveLord Avon to be dead. "

Jim lay silent for a bit, plucking at the short grass with hisfingers. 

"Roddy, " said he at last, "will you come with me to-night and lookfor the ghost?"

It turned me cold, the very thought of it. 

"My mother would not let me. "

"Slip out when she's abed. I'll wait for you at the smithy. "

"Cliffe Royal is locked. "

"I'll open a window easy enough. "

"I'm afraid, Jim. "

"But you are not afraid if you are with me, Roddy. I'll promise youthat no ghost shall hurt you. "

So I gave him my word that I would come, and then all the rest ofthe day I went about the most sad-faced lad in Sussex. It was allvery well for Boy Jim! It was that pride of his which was takinghim there. He would go because there was no one else on the countryside that would dare. But I had no pride of that sort. I was quiteof the same way of thinking as the others, and would as soon havethought of passing my night at Jacob's gibbet on Ditchling Common asin the haunted house of Cliffe Royal. Still, I could not bringmyself to desert Jim; and so, as I say, I slunk about the house withso pale and peaky a face that my dear mother would have it that Ihad been at the green apples, and sent me to bed early with a dishof camomile tea for my supper. 

England went to rest betimes in those days, for there were few whocould afford the price of candles. When I looked out of my windowjust after the clock had gone ten, there was not a light in thevillage save only at the inn. It was but a few feet from theground, so I slipped out, and there was Jim waiting for me at thesmithy corner. We crossed John's Common together, and so pastRidden's Farm, meeting only one or two riding officers upon the way. There was a brisk wind blowing, and the moon kept peeping throughthe rifts of the scud, so that our road was sometimes silver-clear, and sometimes so black that we found ourselves among the bramblesand gorse-bushes which lined it. We came at last to the wooden gatewith the high stone pillars by the roadside, and, looking throughbetween the rails, we saw the long avenue of oaks, and at the end ofthis ill-boding tunnel, the pale face of the house glimmered in themoonshine. 

That would have been enough for me, that one glimpse of it, and thesound of the night wind sighing and groaning among the branches. But Jim swung the gate open, and up we went, the gravel squeakingbeneath our tread. It towered high, the old house, with many littlewindows in which the moon glinted, and with a strip of water runninground three sides of it. The arched door stood right in the face ofus, and on one side a lattice hung open upon its hinges. 

"We're in luck, Roddy, " whispered Jim. "Here's one of the windowsopen. "

"Don't you think we've gone far enough, Jim?" said I, with my teethchattering. 

"I'll lift you in first. "

"No, no, I'll not go first. "

"Then I will. " He gripped the sill, and had his knee on it in aninstant. "Now, Roddy, give me your hands. " With a pull he had meup beside him, and a moment later we were both in the haunted house. 

How hollow it sounded when we jumped down on to the wooden floor!There was such a sudden boom and reverberation that we both stoodsilent for a moment. Then Jim burst out laughing. 

"What an old drum of a place it is!" he cried; "we'll strike alight, Roddy, and see where we are. "

He had brought a candle and a tinder-box in his pocket. When theflame burned up, we saw an arched stone roof above our heads, andbroad deal shelves all round us covered with dusty dishes. It wasthe pantry. 

"I'll show you round, " said Jim, merrily; and, pushing the dooropen, he led the way into the hall. I remember the high, oak-panelled walls, with the heads of deer jutting out, and a singlewhite bust, which sent my heart into my mouth, in the corner. Manyrooms opened out of this, and we wandered from one to the other--thekitchens, the still-room, the morning-room, the dining-room, allfilled with the same choking smell of dust and of mildew. 

"This is where they played the cards, Jim, " said I, in a hushedvoice. "It was on that very table. "

"Why, here are the cards themselves!" cried he; and he pulled abrown towel from something in the centre of the sideboard. Sureenough it was a pile of playing-cards--forty packs, I should think, at the least--which had lain there ever since that tragic game whichwas played before I was born. 

"I wonder whence that stair leads?" said Jim. 

"Don't go up there, Jim!" I cried, clutching at his arm. "That mustlead to the room of the murder. "

"How do you know that?"

"The vicar said that they saw on the ceiling--Oh, Jim, you can seeit even now!"

He held up his candle, and there was a great, dark smudge upon thewhite plaster above us. 

"I believe you're right, " said he; "but anyhow I'm going to have alook at it. "

"Don't, Jim, don't!" I cried. 

"Tut, Roddy! you can stay here if you are afraid. I won't be morethan a minute. There's no use going on a ghost hunt unless--GreatLord, there's something coming down the stairs!"

I heard it too--a shuffling footstep in the room above, and then acreak from the steps, and then another creak, and another. I sawJim's face as if it had been carved out of ivory, with his partedlips and his staring eyes fixed upon the black square of the stairopening. He still held the light, but his fingers twitched, andwith every twitch the shadows sprang from the walls to the ceiling. As to myself, my knees gave way under me, and I found myself on thefloor crouching down behind Jim, with a scream frozen in my throat. And still the step came slowly from stair to stair. 

Then, hardly daring to look and yet unable to turn away my eyes, Isaw a figure dimly outlined in the corner upon which the stairopened. There was a silence in which I could hear my poor heartthumping, and then when I looked again the figure was gone, and thelow creak, creak was heard once more upon the stairs. Jim sprangafter it, and I was left half-fainting in the moonlight. 

But it was not for long. He was down again in a minute, and, passing his hand under my arm, he half led and half carried me outof the house. It was not until we were in the fresh night air againthat he opened his mouth. 

"Can you stand, Roddy?"

"Yes, but I'm shaking. "

"So am I, " said he, passing his hand over his forehead. "I ask yourpardon, Roddy. I was a fool to bring you on such an errand. But Inever believed in such things. I know better now. "

"Could it have been a man, Jim?" I asked, plucking up my courage nowthat I could hear the dogs barking on the farms. 

"It was a spirit, Rodney. "

"How do you know?"

"Because I followed it and saw it vanish into a wall, as easily asan eel into sand. Why, Roddy, what's amiss now?"

My fears were all back upon me, and every nerve creeping withhorror. 

"Take me away, Jim! Take me away!" I cried. 

I was glaring down the avenue, and his eyes followed mine. Amid thegloom of the oak trees something was coming towards us. 

"Quiet, Roddy!" whispered Jim. "By heavens, come what may, my armsare going round it this time. "

We crouched as motionless as the trunks behind us. Heavy stepsploughed their way through the soft gravel, and a broad figureloomed upon us in the darkness. 

Jim sprang upon it like a tiger. 

"YOU'RE not a spirit, anyway!" he cried. 

The man gave a shout of surprise, and then a growl of rage. 

"What the deuce!" he roared, and then, "I'll break your neck if youdon't let go. "

The threat might not have loosened Jim's grip, but the voice did. 

"Why, uncle!" he cried. 

"Well, I'm blessed if it isn't Boy Jim! And what's this? Why, it'syoung Master Rodney Stone, as I'm a living sinner! What in theworld are you two doing up at Cliffe Royal at this time of night?"

We had all moved out into the moonlight, and there was ChampionHarrison with a big bundle on his arm, --and such a look of amazementupon his face as would have brought a smile back on to mine had myheart not still been cramped with fear. 

"We're exploring, " said Jim. 

"Exploring, are you? Well, I don't think you were meant to beCaptain Cooks, either of you, for I never saw such a pair of peeled-turnip faces. Why, Jim, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid, uncle. I never was afraid; but spirits are new tome, and--"

"Spirits?"

"I've been in Cliffe Royal, and we've seen the ghost. "

The Champion gave a whistle. 

"That's the game, is it?" said he. "Did you have speech with it?"

"It vanished first. "

The Champion whistled once more. 

"I've heard there is something of the sort up yonder, " said he; "butit's not a thing as I would advise you to meddle with. There'senough trouble with the folk of this world, Boy Jim, without goingout of your way to mix up with those of another. As to young MasterRodney Stone, if his good mother saw that white face of his, she'dnever let him come to the smithy more. Walk slowly on, and I'll seeyou back to Friar's Oak. "

We had gone half a mile, perhaps, when the Champion overtook us, andI could not but observe that the bundle was no longer under his arm. We were nearly at the smithy before Jim asked the question which wasalready in my mind. 

"What took YOU up to Cliffe Royal, uncle?"

"Well, as a man gets on in years, " said the Champion, "there's manya duty turns up that the likes of you have no idea of. When you'renear forty yourself, you'll maybe know the truth of what I say. "

So that was all we could draw from him; but, young as I was, I hadheard of coast smuggling and of packages carried to lonely places atnight, so that from that time on, if I had heard that thepreventives had made a capture, I was never easy until I saw thejolly face of Champion Harrison looking out of his smithy door. 

CHAPTER III--THE PLAY-ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS

I have told you something about Friar's Oak, and about the life thatwe led there. Now that my memory goes back to the old place itwould gladly linger, for every thread which I draw from the skein ofthe past brings out half a dozen others that were entangled with it. I was in two minds when I began whether I had enough in me to make abook of, and now I know that I could write one about Friar's Oakalone, and the folk whom I knew in my childhood. They were hard anduncouth, some of them, I doubt not; and yet, seen through the goldenhaze of time, they all seem sweet and lovable. There was our goodvicar, Mr. Jefferson, who loved the whole world save only Mr. Slack, the Baptist minister of Clayton; and there was kindly Mr. Slack, whowas all men's brother save only of Mr. Jefferson, the vicar ofFriar's Oak. Then there was Monsieur Rudin, the French Royalistrefugee who lived over on the Pangdean road, and who, when the newsof a victory came in, was convulsed with joy because we had beatenBuonaparte, and shaken with rage because we had beaten the French, so that after the Nile he wept for a whole day out of delight andthen for another one out of fury, alternately clapping his hands andstamping his feet. Well I remember his thin, upright figure and theway in which he jauntily twirled his little cane; for cold andhunger could not cast him down, though we knew that he had his shareof both. Yet he was so proud and had such a grand manner oftalking, that no one dared to offer him a cloak or a meal. I cansee his face now, with a flush over each craggy cheek-bone when thebutcher made him the present of some ribs of beef. He could not buttake it, and yet whilst he was stalking off he threw a proud glanceover his shoulder at the butcher, and he said, "Monsieur, I have adog!" Yet it was Monsieur Rudin and not his dog who looked plumperfor a week to come. 

Then I remember Mr. Paterson, the farmer, who was what you would nowcall a Radical, though at that time some called him a Priestley-ite, and some a Fox-ite, and nearly everybody a traitor. It certainlyseemed to me at the time to be very wicked that a man should lookglum when he heard of a British victory; and when they burned hisstraw image at the gate of his farm, Boy Jim and I were among thosewho lent a hand. But we were bound to confess that he was game, though he might be a traitor, for down he came, striding into themidst of us with his brown coat and his buckled shoes, and the firebeating upon his grim, schoolmaster face. My word, how he rated us, and how glad we were at last to sneak quietly away. 

"You livers of a lie!" said he. "You and those like you have beenpreaching peace for nigh two thousand years, and cutting throats thewhole time. If the money that is lost in taking French lives werespent in saving English ones, you would have more right to burncandles in your windows. Who are you that dare to come here toinsult a law-abiding man?"

"We are the people of England!" cried young Master Ovington, the sonof the Tory Squire. 

"You! you horse-racing, cock-fighting ne'er-do-weel! Do you presumeto talk for the people of England? They are a deep, strong, silentstream, and you are the scum, the bubbles, the poor, silly froththat floats upon the surface. "

We thought him very wicked then, but, looking back, I am not surethat we were not very wicked ourselves. 

And then there were the smugglers! The Downs swarmed with them, forsince there might be no lawful trade betwixt France and England, ithad all to run in that channel. I have been up on St. John's Commonupon a dark night, and, lying among the bracken, I have seen as manyas seventy mules and a man at the head of each go flitting past meas silently as trout in a stream. Not one of them but bore its twoankers of the right French cognac, or its bale of silk of Lyons andlace of Valenciennes. I knew Dan Scales, the head of them, and Iknew Tom Hislop, the riding officer, and I remember the night theymet. 

"Do you fight, Dan?" asked Tom. 

"Yes, Tom; thou must fight for it. "

On which Tom drew his pistol, and blew Dan's brains out. 

"It was a sad thing to do, " he said afterwards, "but I knew Dan wastoo good a man for me, for we tried it out before. "

It was Tom who paid a poet from Brighton to write the lines for thetombstone, which we all thought were very true and good, beginning -

"Alas! Swift flew the fatal leadWhich pierced through the young man's head. He instantly fell, resigned his breath, And closed his languid eyes in death. "

There was more of it, and I dare say it is all still to be read inPatcham Churchyard. 

One day, about the time of our Cliffe Royal adventure, I was seatedin the cottage looking round at the curios which my father hadfastened on to the walls, and wishing, like the lazy lad that I was, that Mr. Lilly had died before ever he wrote his Latin grammar, whenmy mother, who was sitting knitting in the window, gave a little cryof surprise. 

"Good gracious!" she cried. "What a vulgar-looking woman!"

It was so rare to hear my mother say a hard word against anybody(unless it were General Buonaparte) that I was across the room andat the window in a jump. A pony-chaise was coming slowly down thevillage street, and in it was the queerest-looking person that I hadever seen. She was very stout, with a face that was of so dark ared that it shaded away into purple over the nose and cheeks. Shewore a great hat with a white curling ostrich feather, and fromunder its brim her two bold, black eyes stared out with a look ofanger and defiance as if to tell the folk that she thought less ofthem than they could do of her. She had some sort of scarletpelisse with white swans-down about her neck, and she held the reinsslack in her hands, while the pony wandered from side to side of theroad as the fancy took him. Each time the chaise swayed, her headwith the great hat swayed also, so that sometimes we saw the crownof it and sometimes the brim. 

"What a dreadful sight!" cried my mother. 

"What is amiss with her, mother?"

"Heaven forgive me if I misjudge her, Rodney, but I think that theunfortunate woman has been drinking. "

"Why, " I cried, "she has pulled the chaise up at the smithy. I'llfind out all the news for you;" and, catching up my cap, away Iscampered. 

Champion Harrison had been shoeing a horse at the forge door, andwhen I got into the street I could see him with the creature's hoofstill under his arm, and the rasp in his hand, kneeling down amidthe white parings. The woman was beckoning him from the chaise, andhe staring up at her with the queerest expression upon his face. Presently he threw down his rasp and went across to her, standing bythe wheel and shaking his head as he talked to her. For my part, Islipped into the smithy, where Boy Jim was finishing the shoe, and Iwatched the neatness of his work and the deft way in which he turnedup the caulkens. When he had done with it he carried it out, andthere was the strange woman still talking with his uncle. 

"Is that he?" I heard her ask. 

Champion Harrison nodded. 

She looked at Jim, and I never saw such eyes in a human head, solarge, and black, and wonderful. Boy as I was, I knew that, inspite of that bloated face, this woman had once been very beautiful. She put out a hand, with all the fingers going as if she wereplaying on the harpsichord, and she touched Jim on the shoulder. 

"I hope--I hope you're well, " she stammered. 

"Very well, ma'am, " said Jim, staring from her to his uncle. 

"And happy too?"

"Yes, ma'am, I thank you. "

"Nothing that you crave for?"

"Why, no, ma'am, I have all that I lack. "

"That will do, Jim, " said his uncle, in a stern voice. "Blow up theforge again, for that shoe wants reheating. "

But it seemed as if the woman had something else that she would say, for she was angry that he should be sent away. Her eyes gleamed, and her head tossed, while the smith with his two big handsoutspread seemed to be soothing her as best he could. For a longtime they whispered until at last she appeared to be satisfied. 

"To-morrow, then?" she cried loud out. 

"To-morrow, " he answered. 

"You keep your word and I'll keep mine, " said she, and dropped thelash on the pony's back. The smith stood with the rasp in his hand, looking after her until she was just a little red spot on the whiteroad. Then he turned, and I never saw his face so grave. 

"Jim, " said he, "that's Miss Hinton, who has come to live at TheMaples, out Anstey Cross way. She's taken a kind of a fancy to you, Jim, and maybe she can help you on a bit. I promised her that youwould go over and see her to-morrow. "

"I don't want her help, uncle, and I don't want to see her. "

"But I've promised, Jim, and you wouldn't make me out a liar. Shedoes but want to talk with you, for it is a lonely life she leads. "

"What would she want to talk with such as me about?"

"Why, I cannot say that, but she seemed very set upon it, and womenhave their fancies. There's young Master Stone here who wouldn'trefuse to go and see a good lady, I'll warrant, if he thought hemight better his fortune by doing so. "

"Well, uncle, I'll go if Roddy Stone will go with me, " said Jim. 

"Of course he'll go. Won't you, Master Rodney?"

So it ended in my saying "yes, " and back I went with all my news tomy mother, who dearly loved a little bit of gossip. She shook herhead when she heard where I was going, but she did not say nay, andso it was settled. 

It was a good four miles of a walk, but when we reached it you wouldnot wish to see a more cosy little house: all honeysuckle andcreepers, with a wooden porch and lattice windows. A common-lookingwoman opened the door for us. 

"Miss Hinton cannot see you, " said she. 

"But she asked us to come, " said Jim. 

"I can't help that, " cried the woman, in a rude voice. "I tell youthat she can't see you. "

We stood irresolute for a minute. 

"Maybe you would just tell her I am here, " said Jim, at last. 

"Tell her! How am I to tell her when she couldn't so much as hear apistol in her ears? Try and tell her yourself, if you have a mindto. "

She threw open a door as she spoke, and there, in a reclining chairat the further end of the room, we caught a glimpse of a figure alllumped together, huge and shapeless, with tails of black hairhanging down. 

The sound of dreadful, swine-like breathing fell upon our ears. Itwas but a glance, and then we were off hot-foot for home. As forme, I was so young that I was not sure whether this was funny orterrible; but when I looked at Jim to see how he took it, he waslooking quite white and ill. 

"You'll not tell any one, Roddy, " said he. 

"Not unless it's my mother. "

"I won't even tell my uncle. I'll say she was ill, the poor lady!it's enough that we should have seen her in her shame, without itsbeing the gossip of the village. It makes me feel sick and heavy atheart. "

"She was so yesterday, Jim. "

"Was she? I never marked it. But I know that she has kind eyes anda kind heart, for I saw the one in the other when she looked at me. Maybe it's the want of a friend that has driven her to this. "

It blighted his spirits for days, and when it had all gone from mymind it was brought back to me by his manner. But it was not to beour last memory of the lady with the scarlet pelisse, for before theweek was out Jim came round to ask me if I would again go up withhim. 

"My uncle has had a letter, " said he. "She would speak with me, andI would be easier if you came with me, Rod. "

For me it was only a pleasure outing, but I could see, as we drewnear the house, that Jim was troubling in his mind lest we shouldfind that things were amiss. 

His fears were soon set at rest, however, for we had scarce clickedthe garden gate before the woman was out of the door of the cottageand running down the path to meet us. She was so strange a figure, with some sort of purple wrapper on, and her big, flushed facesmiling out of it, that I might, if I had been alone, have taken tomy heels at the sight of her. Even Jim stopped for a moment as ifhe were not very sure of himself, but her hearty ways soon set us atour ease. 

"It is indeed good of you to come and see an old, lonely woman, "said she, "and I owe you an apology that I should give you afruitless journey on Tuesday, but in a sense you were yourselves thecause of it, since the thought of your coming had excited me, andany excitement throws me into a nervous fever. My poor nerves! Youcan see for yourselves how they serve me. "

She held out her twitching hands as she spoke. Then she passed oneof them through Jim's arm, and walked with him up the path. 

"You must let me know you, and know you well, " said she. "Youruncle and aunt are quite old acquaintances of mine, and though youcannot remember me, I have held you in my arms when you were aninfant. Tell me, little man, " she added, turning to me, "what doyou call your friend?"

"Boy Jim, ma'am, " said I. 

"Then if you will not think me forward, I will call you Boy Jimalso. We elderly people have our privileges, you know. And now youshall come in with me, and we will take a dish of tea together. "

She led the way into a cosy room--the same which we had caught aglimpse of when last we came--and there, in the middle, was a tablewith white napery, and shining glass, and gleaming china, and red-cheeked apples piled upon a centre-dish, and a great plateful ofsmoking muffins which the cross-faced maid had just carried in. Youcan think that we did justice to all the good things, and MissHinton would ever keep pressing us to pass our cup and to fill ourplate. Twice during our meal she rose from her chair and withdrewinto a cupboard at the end of the room, and each time I saw Jim'sface cloud, for we heard a gentle clink of glass against glass. 

"Come now, little man, " said she to me, when the table had beencleared. "Why are you looking round so much?"

"Because there are so many pretty things upon the walls. "

"And which do you think the prettiest of them?"

"Why, that!" said I, pointing to a picture which hung opposite tome. It was of a tall and slender girl, with the rosiest cheeks andthe tenderest eyes--so daintily dressed, too, that I had never seenanything more perfect. She had a posy of flowers in her hand andanother one was lying upon the planks of wood upon which she wasstanding. 

"Oh, that's the prettiest, is it?" said she, laughing. "Well, now, walk up to it, and let us hear what is writ beneath it. "

I did as she asked, and read out: "Miss Polly Hinton, as 'Peggy, 'in The Country Wife, played for her benefit at the HaymarketTheatre, September 14th, 1782. "

"It's a play-actress, " said I. 

"Oh, you rude little boy, to say it in such a tone, " said she; "asif a play-actress wasn't as good as any one else. Why, 'twas butthe other day that the Duke of Clarence, who may come to callhimself King of England, married Mrs. Jordan, who is herself only aplay-actress. And whom think you that this one is?"

She stood under the picture with her arms folded across her greatbody, and her big black eyes looking from one to the other of us. 

"Why, where are your eyes?" she cried at last. "_I_ was Miss PollyHinton of the Haymarket Theatre. And perhaps you never heard thename before?"

We were compelled to confess that we never had. And the very nameof play-actress had filled us both with a kind of vague horror, likethe country-bred folk that we were. To us they were a class apart, to be hinted at rather than named, with the wrath of the Almightyhanging over them like a thundercloud. Indeed, His judgments seemedto be in visible operation before us when we looked upon what thiswoman was, and what she had been. 

"Well, " said she, laughing like one who is hurt, "you have no causeto say anything, for I read on your face what you have been taughtto think of me. So this is the upbringing that you have had, Jim--to think evil of that which you do not understand! I wish you hadbeen in the theatre that very night with Prince Florizel and fourDukes in the boxes, and all the wits and macaronis of London risingat me in the pit. If Lord Avon had not given me a cast in hiscarriage, I had never got my flowers back to my lodgings in YorkStreet, Westminster. And now two little country lads are sitting injudgment upon me!"

Jim's pride brought a flush on to his cheeks, for he did not like tobe called a country lad, or to have it supposed that he was so farbehind the grand folk in London. 

"I have never been inside a play-house, " said he; "I know nothing ofthem. "

"Nor I either. "

"Well, " said she, "I am not in voice, and it is ill to play in alittle room with but two to listen, but you must conceive me to bethe Queen of the Peruvians, who is exhorting her countrymen to riseup against the Spaniards, who are oppressing them. "

And straightway that coarse, swollen woman became a queen--thegrandest, haughtiest queen that you could dream of--and she turnedupon us with such words of fire, such lightning eyes and sweeping ofher white hand, that she held us spellbound in our chairs. Hervoice was soft and sweet, and persuasive at the first, but louder itrang and louder as it spoke of wrongs and freedom and the joys ofdeath in a good cause, until it thrilled into my every nerve, and Iasked nothing more than to run out of the cottage and to die thenand there in the cause of my country. And then in an instant shechanged. She was a poor woman now, who had lost her only child, andwho was bewailing it. Her voice was full of tears, and what shesaid was so simple, so true, that we both seemed to see the deadbabe stretched there on the carpet before us, and we could havejoined in with words of pity and of grief. And then, before ourcheeks were dry, she was back into her old self again. 

"How like you that, then?" she cried. "That was my way in the dayswhen Sally Siddons would turn green at the name of Polly Hinton. It's a fine play, is Pizarro. "

"And who wrote it, ma'am?"

"Who wrote it? I never heard. What matter who did the writing ofit! But there are some great lines for one who knows how theyshould be spoken. "

"And you play no longer, ma'am?"

"No, Jim, I left the boards when--when I was weary of them. But myheart goes back to them sometimes. It seems to me there is no smelllike that of the hot oil in the footlights and of the oranges in thepit. But you are sad, Jim. "

"It was but the thought of that poor woman and her child. "

"Tut, never think about her! I will soon wipe her from your mind. This is 'Miss Priscilla Tomboy, ' from The Romp. You must conceivethat the mother is speaking, and that the forward young minx isanswering. 

And she began a scene between the two of them, so exact in voice andmanner that it seemed to us as if there were really two folk beforeus: the stern old mother with her hand up like an ear-trumpet, andher flouncing, bouncing daughter. Her great figure danced aboutwith a wonderful lightness, and she tossed her head and pouted herlips as she answered back to the old, bent figure that addressedher. Jim and I had forgotten our tears, and were holding our ribsbefore she came to the end of it. 

"That is better, " said she, smiling at our laughter. "I would nothave you go back to Friar's Oak with long faces, or maybe they wouldnot let you come to me again. "

She vanished into her cupboard, and came out with a bottle andglass, which she placed upon the table. 

"You are too young for strong waters, " she said, "but this talkinggives one a dryness, and--"

Then it was that Boy Jim did a wonderful thing. He rose from hischair, and he laid his hand upon the bottle. 

"Don't!" said he. 

She looked him in the face, and I can still see those black eyes ofhers softening before the gaze. 

"Am I to have none?"

"Please, don't. "

With a quick movement she wrested the bottle out of his hand andraised it up so that for a moment it entered my head that she wasabout to drink it off. Then she flung it through the open lattice, and we heard the crash of it on the path outside. 

"There, Jim!" said she; "does that satisfy you? It's long since anyone cared whether I drank or no. "

"You are too good and kind for that, " said he. 

"Good!" she cried. "Well, I love that you should think me so. Andit would make you happier if I kept from the brandy, Jim? Well, then, I'll make you a promise, if you'll make me one in return. "

"What's that, miss?"

"No drop shall pass my lips, Jim, if you will swear, wet or shine, blow or snow, to come up here twice in every week, that I may seeyou and speak with you, for, indeed, there are times when I am verylonesome. "

So the promise was made, and very faithfully did Jim keep it, formany a time when I have wanted him to go fishing or rabbit-snaring, he has remembered that it was his day for Miss Hinton, and hastramped off to Anstey Cross. At first I think that she found hershare of the bargain hard to keep, and I have seen Jim come backwith a black face on him, as if things were going amiss. But aftera time the fight was won--as all fights are won if one does butfight long enough--and in the year before my father came back MissHinton had become another woman. And it was not her ways only, butherself as well, for from being the person that I have described, she became in one twelve-month as fine a looking lady as there wasin the whole country-side. Jim was prouder of it by far than ofanything he had had a hand in in his life, but it was only to methat he ever spoke about it, for he had that tenderness towards herthat one has for those whom one has helped. And she helped himalso, for by her talk of the world and of what she had seen, shetook his mind away from the Sussex country-side and prepared it fora broader life beyond. So matters stood between them at the timewhen peace was made and my father came home from the sea. 

CHAPTER IV--THE PEACE OF AMIENS

Many a woman's knee was on the ground, and many a woman's soul spentitself in joy and thankfulness when the news came with the fall ofthe leaf in 1801 that the preliminaries of peace had been settled. All England waved her gladness by day and twinkled it by night. Even in little Friar's Oak we had our flags flying bravely, and acandle in every window, with a big G. R. Guttering in the wind overthe door of the inn. Folk were weary of the war, for we had been atit for eight years, taking Holland, and Spain, and France each inturn and all together. All that we had learned during that time wasthat our little army was no match for the French on land, and thatour large navy was more than a match for them upon the water. Wehad gained some credit, which we were sorely in need of after theAmerican business; and a few Colonies, which were welcome also forthe same reason; but our debt had gone on rising and our consolssinking, until even Pitt stood aghast. Still, if we had known thatthere never could be peace between Napoleon and ourselves, and thatthis was only the end of a round and not of the battle, we shouldhave been better advised had we fought it out without a break. Asit was, the French got back the twenty thousand good seamen whom wehad captured, and a fine dance they led us with their Boulogneflotillas and fleets of invasion before we were able to catch themagain. 

My father, as I remember him best, was a tough, strong little man, of no great breadth, but solid and well put together. His face wasburned of a reddish colour, as bright as a flower-pot, and in spiteof his age (for he was only forty at the time of which I speak) itwas shot with lines, which deepened if he were in any way perturbed, so that I have seen him turn on the instant from a youngish man toan elderly. His eyes especially were meshed round with wrinkles, asis natural for one who had puckered them all his life in facing foulwind and bitter weather. These eyes were, perhaps, his strangestfeature, for they were of a very clear and beautiful blue, whichshone the brighter out of that ruddy setting. By nature he musthave been a fair-skinned man, for his upper brow, where his cap cameover it, was as white as mine, and his close-cropped hair was tawny. 

He had served, as he was proud to say, in the last of our shipswhich had been chased out of the Mediterranean in '97, and in thefirst which had re-entered it in '98. He was under Miller, as thirdlieutenant of the Theseus, when our fleet, like a pack of eager foxhounds in a covert, was dashing from Sicily to Syria and back againto Naples, trying to pick up the lost scent. With the same goodfighting man he served at the Nile, where the men of his commandsponged and rammed and trained until, when the last tricolour hadcome down, they hove up the sheet anchor and fell dead asleep uponthe top of each other under the capstan bars. Then, as a secondlieutenant, he was in one of those grim three-deckers with powder-blackened hulls and crimson scupper-holes, their spare cables tiedround their keels and over their bulwarks to hold them together, which carried the news into the Bay of Naples. From thence, as areward for his services, he was transferred as first lieutenant tothe Aurora frigate, engaged in cutting off supplies from Genoa, andin her he still remained until long after peace was declared. 

How well I can remember his home-coming! Though it is now eight-and-forty years ago, it is clearer to me than the doings of lastweek, for the memory of an old man is like one of those glasseswhich shows out what is at a distance and blurs all that is near. 

My mother had been in a tremble ever since the first rumour of thepreliminaries came to our ears, for she knew that he might come assoon as his message. She said little, but she saddened my life byinsisting that I should be for ever clean and tidy. With everyrumble of wheels, too, her eyes would glance towards the door, andher hands steal up to smooth her pretty black hair. She hadembroidered a white "Welcome" upon a blue ground, with an anchor inred upon each side, and a border of laurel leaves; and this was tohang upon the two lilac bushes which flanked the cottage door. Hecould not have left the Mediterranean before we had this finished, and every morning she looked to see if it were in its place andready to be hanged. 

But it was a weary time before the peace was ratified, and it wasApril of next year before our great day came round to us. It hadbeen raining all morning, I remember--a soft spring rain, which sentup a rich smell from the brown earth and pattered pleasantly uponthe budding chestnuts behind our cottage. The sun had shone out inthe evening, and I had come down with my fishing-rod (for I hadpromised Boy Jim to go with him to the mill-stream), when whatshould I see but a post-chaise with two smoking horses at the gate, and there in the open door of it were my mother's black skirt andher little feet jutting out, with two blue arms for a waist-belt, and all the rest of her buried in the chaise. Away I ran for themotto, and I pinned it up on the bushes as we had agreed, but when Ihad finished there were the skirts and the feet and the blue armsjust the same as before. 

"Here's Rod, " said my mother at last, struggling down on to theground again. "Roddy, darling, here's your father!"

I saw the red face and the kindly, light-blue eyes looking out atme. 

"Why, Roddy, lad, you were but a child and we kissed good-bye whenlast we met; but I suppose we must put you on a different ratingnow. I'm right glad from my heart to see you, dear lad; and as toyou, sweetheart--"

The blue arms flew out, and there were the skirt and the two feetfixed in the door again. 

"Here are the folk coming, Anson, " said my mother, blushing. "Won'tyou get out and come in with us?"

And then suddenly it came home to us both that for all his cheeryface he had never moved more than his arms, and that his leg wasresting on the opposite seat of the chaise. 

"Oh, Anson, Anson!" she cried. 

"Tut, 'tis but the bone of my leg, " said he, taking his knee betweenhis hands and lifting it round. "I got it broke in the Bay, but thesurgeon has fished it and spliced it, though it's a bit crank yet. Why, bless her kindly heart, if I haven't turned her from pink towhite. You can see for yourself that it's nothing. "

He sprang out as he spoke, and with one leg and a staff he hoppedswiftly up the path, and under the laurel-bordered motto, and soover his own threshold for the first time for five years. When thepost-boy and I had carried up the sea-chest and the two canvas bags, there he was sitting in his armchair by the window in his oldweather-stained blue coat. My mother was weeping over his poor leg, and he patting her hair with one brown hand. His other he threwround my waist, and drew me to the side of his chair. 

"Now that we have peace, I can lie up and refit until King Georgeneeds me again, " said he. "'Twas a carronade that came adrift inthe Bay when it was blowing a top-gallant breeze with a beam sea. Ere we could make it fast it had me jammed against the mast. Well, well, " he added, looking round at the walls of the room, "here areall my old curios, the same as ever: the narwhal's horn from theArctic, and the blowfish from the Moluccas, and the paddles fromFiji, and the picture of the Ca Ira with Lord Hotham in chase. Andhere you are, Mary, and you also, Roddy, and good luck to thecarronade which has sent me into so snug a harbour without fear ofsailing orders. "

My mother had his long pipe and his tobacco all ready for him, sothat he was able now to light it and to sit looking from one of usto the other and then back again, as if he could never see enough ofus. Young as I was, I could still understand that this was themoment which he had thought of during many a lonely watch, and thatthe expectation of it had cheered his heart in many a dark hour. Sometimes he would touch one of us with his hand, and sometimes theother, and so he sat, with his soul too satiated for words, whilstthe shadows gathered in the little room and the lights of the innwindows glimmered through the gloom. And then, after my mother hadlit our own lamp, she slipped suddenly down upon her knees, and hegot one knee to the ground also, so that, hand-in-hand, they joinedtheir thanks to Heaven for manifold mercies. When I look back at myparents as they were in those days, it is at that very moment that Ican picture them most clearly: her sweet face with the wet shiningupon her cheeks, and his blue eyes upturned to the smoke-blackenedceiling. I remember that he swayed his reeking pipe in theearnestness of his prayer, so that I was half tears and half smilesas I watched him. 

"Roddy, lad, " said he, after supper was over, "you're getting a mannow, and I suppose you will go afloat like the rest of us. You'reold enough to strap a dirk to your thigh. "

"And leave me without a child as well as without a husband!" criedmy mother. 

"Well, there's time enough yet, " said he, "for they are moreinclined to empty berths than to fill them, now that peace has come. But I've never tried what all this schooling has done for you, Rodney. You have had a great deal more than ever I had, but I daresay I can make shift to test it. Have you learned history?"

"Yes, father, " said I, with some confidence. 

"Then how many sail of the line were at the Battle of Camperdown?"

He shook his head gravely when he found that I could not answer him. 

"Why, there are men in the fleet who never had any schooling at allwho could tell you that we had seven 74's, seven 64's, and two 50-gun ships in the action. There's a picture on the wall of the chaseof the Ca Ira. Which were the ships that laid her aboard?"

Again I had to confess that he had beaten me. 

"Well, your dad can teach you something in history yet, " he cried, looking in triumph at my mother. "Have you learned geography?"

"Yes, father, " said I, though with less confidence than before. 

"Well, how far is it from Port Mahon to Algeciras?"

I could only shake my head. 

"If Ushant lay three leagues upon your starboard quarter, what wouldbe your nearest English port?"

Again I had to give it up. 

"Well, I don't see that your geography is much better than yourhistory, " said he. "You'd never get your certificate at this rate. Can you do addition? Well, then, let us see if you can tot up myprize-money. "

He shot a mischievous glance at my mother as he spoke, and she laiddown her knitting on her lap and looked very earnestly at him. 

"You never asked me about that, Mary, " said he. 

"The Mediterranean is not the station for it, Anson. I have heardyou say that it is the Atlantic for prize-money, and theMediterranean for honour. "

"I had a share of both last cruise, which comes from changing aline-of-battleship for a frigate. Now, Rodney, there are two poundsin every hundred due to me when the prize-courts have done withthem. When we were watching Massena, off Genoa, we got a matter ofseventy schooners, brigs, and tartans, with wine, food, and powder. Lord Keith will want his finger in the pie, but that's for theCourts to settle. Put them at four pounds apiece to me, and whatwill the seventy bring?"

"Two hundred and eighty pounds, " I answered. 

"Why, Anson, it is a fortune!" cried my mother, clapping her hands. 

"Try you again, Roddy!" said he, shaking his pipe at me. "There wasthe Xebec frigate out of Barcelona with twenty thousand Spanishdollars aboard, which make four thousand of our pounds. Her hullshould be worth another thousand. What's my share of that?"

"A hundred pounds. "

"Why, the purser couldn't work it out quicker, " he cried in hisdelight. "Here's for you again! We passed the Straits and workedup to the Azores, where we fell in with the La Sabina from theMauritius with sugar and spices. Twelve hundred pounds she's worthto me, Mary, my darling, and never again shall you soil your prettyfingers or pinch upon my beggarly pay. 

My dear mother had borne her long struggle without a sign all theseyears, but now that she was so suddenly eased of it she fell sobbingupon his neck. It was a long time before my father had a thought tospare upon my examination in arithmetic. 

"It's all in your lap, Mary, " said he, dashing his own hand acrosshis eyes. "By George, lass, when this leg of mine is sound we'llbear down for a spell to Brighton, and if there is a smarter frockthan yours upon the Steyne, may I never tread a poop again. But howis it that you are so quick at figures, Rodney, when you knownothing of history or geography?"

I tried to explain that addition was the same upon sea or land, butthat history and geography were not. 

"Well, " he concluded, "you need figures to take a reckoning, and youneed nothing else save what your mother wit will teach you. Therenever was one of our breed who did not take to salt water like ayoung gull. Lord Nelson has promised me a vacancy for you, andhe'll be as good as his word. "

So it was that my father came home to us, and a better or kinder nolad could wish for. Though my parents had been married so long, they had really seen very little of each other, and their affectionwas as warm and as fresh as if they were two newly-wedded lovers. Ihave learned since that sailors can be coarse and foul, but neverdid I know it from my father; for, although he had seen as muchrough work as the wildest could wish for, he was always the samepatient, good-humoured man, with a smile and a jolly word for allthe village. He could suit himself to his company, too, for on theone hand he could take his wine with the vicar, or with Sir JamesOvington, the squire of the parish; while on the other he would sitby the hour amongst my humble friends down in the smithy, withChampion Harrison, Boy Jim, and the rest of them, telling them suchstories of Nelson and his men that I have seen the Champion knot hisgreat hands together, while Jim's eyes have smouldered like theforge embers as he listened. 

My father had been placed on half-pay, like so many others of theold war officers, and so, for nearly two years, he was able toremain with us. During all this time I can only once remember thatthere was the slightest disagreement between him and my mother. Itchanced that I was the cause of it, and as great events sprang outof it, I must tell you how it came about. It was indeed the firstof a series of events which affected not only my fortunes, but thoseof very much more important people. 

The spring of 1803 was an early one, and the middle of April saw theleaves thick upon the chestnut trees. One evening we were allseated together over a dish of tea when we heard the scrunch ofsteps outside our door, and there was the postman with a letter inhis hand. 

"I think it is for me, " said my mother, and sure enough it wasaddressed in the most beautiful writing to Mrs. Mary Stone, ofFriar's Oak, and there was a red seal the size of a half-crown uponthe outside of it with a flying dragon in the middle. 

"Whom think you that it is from, Anson?" she asked. 

"I had hoped that it was from Lord Nelson, " answered my father. "Itis time the boy had his commission. But if it be for you, then itcannot be from any one of much importance. "

"Can it not!" she cried, pretending to be offended. "You will askmy pardon for that speech, sir, for it is from no less a person thanSir Charles Tregellis, my own brother. "

My mother seemed to speak with a hushed voice when she mentionedthis wonderful brother of hers, and always had done as long as I canremember, so that I had learned also to have a subdued and reverentfeeling when I heard his name. And indeed it was no wonder, forthat name was never mentioned unless it were in connection withsomething brilliant and extraordinary. Once we heard that he was atWindsor with the King. Often he was at Brighton with the Prince. Sometimes it was as a sportsman that his reputation reached us, aswhen his Meteor beat the Duke of Queensberry's Egham, at Newmarket, or when he brought Jim Belcher up from Bristol, and sprang him uponthe London fancy. But usually it was as the friend of the great, the arbiter of fashions, the king of bucks, and the best-dressed manin town that his reputation reached us. My father, however, did notappear to be elated at my mother's triumphant rejoinder. 

"Ay, and what does he want?" asked he, in no very amiable voice. 

"I wrote to him, Anson, and told him that Rodney was growing a mannow, thinking, since he had no wife or child of his own, he might bedisposed to advance him. "

"We can do very well without him, " growled my father. "He sheeredoff from us when the weather was foul, and we have no need of himnow that the sun is shining. "

"Nay, you misjudge him, Anson, " said my mother, warmly. "There isno one with a better heart than Charles; but his own life moves sosmoothly that he cannot understand that others may have trouble. During all these years I have known that I had but to say the wordto receive as much as I wished from him. "

"Thank God that you never had to stoop to it, Mary. I want none ofhis help. "

"But we must think of Rodney. "

"Rodney has enough for his sea-chest and kit. He needs no more. "

"But Charles has great power and influence in London. He could makeRodney known to all the great people. Surely you would not stand inthe way of his advancement. "

"Let us hear what he says, then, " said my father; and this was theletter which she read to him -

14, Jermyn Street, St. James's, "April 15th, 1803. 

"MY DEAR SISTER MARY, "In answer to your letter, I can assure you that you must notconceive me to be wanting in those finer feelings which are thechief adornment of humanity. It is true that for some years, absorbed as I have been in affairs of the highest importance, I haveseldom taken a pen in hand, for which I can assure you that I havebeen reproached by many des plus charmantes of your charming sex. At the present moment I lie abed (having stayed late in order to paya compliment to the Marchioness of Dover at her ball last night), and this is writ to my dictation by Ambrose, my clever rascal of avalet. I am interested to hear of my nephew Rodney (Mon dieu, quelnom!), and as I shall be on my way to visit the Prince at Brightonnext week, I shall break my journey at Friar's Oak for the sake ofseeing both you and him. Make my compliments to your husband. 

"I am ever, my dear sister Mary, "Your brother, "CHARLES TREGELLIS. "

"What do you think of that?" cried my mother in triumph when she hadfinished. 

"I think it is the letter of a fop, " said my father, bluntly. 

"You are too hard on him, Anson. You will think better of him whenyou know him. But he says that he will be here next week, and thisis Thursday, and the best curtains unhung, and no lavender in thesheets!"

Away she bustled, half distracted, while my father sat moody, withhis chin upon his hands, and I remained lost in wonder at thethought of this grand new relative from London, and of all that hiscoming might mean to us. 

CHAPTER V--BUCK TREGELLIS

Now that I was in my seventeenth year, and had already some need fora razor, I had begun to weary of the narrow life of the village, andto long to see something of the great world beyond. The craving wasall the stronger because I durst not speak openly about it, for theleast hint of it brought the tears into my mother's eyes. But nowthere was the less reason that I should stay at home, since myfather was at her side, and so my mind was all filled by thisprospect of my uncle's visit, and of the chance that he might set myfeet moving at last upon the road of life. 

As you may think, it was towards my father's profession that mythoughts and my hopes turned, for from my childhood I have neverseen the heave of the sea or tasted the salt upon my lips withoutfeeling the blood of five generations of seamen thrill within myveins. And think of the challenge which was ever waving in thosedays before the eyes of a coast-living lad! I had but to walk up toWolstonbury in the war time to see the sails of the French chasse-marees and privateers. Again and again I have heard the roar of theguns coming from far out over the waters. Seamen would tell us howthey had left London and been engaged ere nightfall, or sailed outof Portsmouth and been yard-arm to yard-arm before they had lostsight of St. Helen's light. It was this imminence of the dangerwhich warmed our hearts to our sailors, and made us talk, round thewinter fires, of our little Nelson, and Cuddie Collingwood, andJohnnie Jarvis, and the rest of them, not as being great HighAdmirals with titles and dignities, but as good friends whom weloved and honoured above all others. What boy was there through thelength and breadth of Britain who did not long to be out with themunder the red-cross flag?

But now that peace had come, and the fleets which had swept theChannel and the Mediterranean were lying dismantled in our harbours, there was less to draw one's fancy seawards. It was London now ofwhich I thought by day and brooded by night: the huge city, thehome of the wise and the great, from which came this constant streamof carriages, and those crowds of dusty people who were for everflashing past our window-pane. It was this one side of life whichfirst presented itself to me, and so, as a boy, I used to picturethe City as a gigantic stable with a huge huddle of coaches, whichwere for ever streaming off down the country roads. But, then, Champion Harrison told me how the fighting-men lived there, and myfather how the heads of the Navy lived there, and my mother how herbrother and his grand friends were there, until at last I wasconsumed with impatience to see this marvellous heart of England. This coming of my uncle, then, was the breaking of light through thedarkness, though I hardly dared to hope that he would take me withhim into those high circles in which he lived. My mother, however, had such confidence either in his good nature or in her own powersof persuasion, that she already began to make furtive preparationsfor my departure. 

But if the narrowness of the village life chafed my easy spirit, itwas a torture to the keen and ardent mind of Boy Jim. It was but afew days after the coming of my uncle's letter that we walked overthe Downs together, and I had a peep of the bitterness of his heart. 

"What is there for me to do, Rodney?" he cried. "I forge a shoe, and I fuller it, and I clip it, and I caulken it, and I knock fiveholes in it, and there it is finished. Then I do it again andagain, and blow up the bellows and feed the forge, and rasp a hoofor two, and there is a day's work done, and every day the same asthe other. Was it for this only, do you think, that I was born intothe world?"

I looked at him, his proud, eagle face, and his tall, sinewy figure, and I wondered whether in the whole land there was a finer, handsomer man. 

"The Army or the Navy is the place for you, Jim, " said I. 

"That is very well, " he cried. "If you go into the Navy, as you arelikely to do, you go as an officer, and it is you who do theordering. If I go in, it is as one who was born to receive orders. "

"An officer gets his orders from those above him. "

"But an officer does not have the lash hung over his head. I saw apoor fellow at the inn here--it was some years ago--who showed ushis back in the tap-room, all cut into red diamonds with the boat-swain's whip. 'Who ordered that?' I asked. 'The captain, ' said he. 'And what would you have had if you had struck him dead?' said I. 'The yard-arm, ' he answered. 'Then if I had been you that's where Ishould have been, ' said I, and I spoke the truth. I can't help it, Rod! There's something here in my heart, something that is as mucha part of myself as this hand is, which holds me to it. "

"I know that you are as proud as Lucifer, " said I. 

"It was born with me, Roddy, and I can't help it. Life would beeasier if I could. I was made to be my own master, and there's onlyone place where I can hope to be so. "

"Where is that, Jim?"

"In London. Miss Hinton has told me of it, until I feel as if Icould find my way through it from end to end. She loves to talk ofit as well as I do to listen. I have it all laid out in my mind, and I can see where the playhouses are, and how the river runs, andwhere the King's house is, and the Prince's, and the place where thefighting-men live. I could make my name known in London. "

"How?"

"Never mind how, Rod. I could do it, and I will do it, too. 'Wait!' says my uncle--'wait, and it will all come right for you. 'That is what he always says, and my aunt the same. Why should Iwait? What am I to wait for? No, Roddy, I'll stay no longer eatingmy heart out in this little village, but I'll leave my apron behindme and I'll seek my fortune in London, and when I come back toFriar's Oak, it will be in such style as that gentleman yonder. "

He pointed as he spoke, and there was a high crimson curricle comingdown the London road, with two bay mares harnessed tandem fashionbefore it. The reins and fittings were of a light fawn colour, andthe gentleman had a driving-coat to match, with a servant in darklivery behind. They flashed past us in a rolling cloud of dust, andI had just a glimpse of the pale, handsome face of the master, andof the dark, shrivelled features of the man. I should never havegiven them another thought had it not chanced that when the villagecame into view there was the curricle again, standing at the door ofthe inn, and the grooms busy taking out the horses. 

"Jim, " I cried, "I believe it is my uncle!" and taking to my heels Iran for home at the top of my speed. At the door was standing thedark-faced servant. He carried a cushion, upon which lay a smalland fluffy lapdog. 

"You will excuse me, young sir, " said he, in the suavest, mostsoothing of voices, "but am I right in supposing that this is thehouse of Lieutenant Stone? In that case you will, perhaps, do methe favour to hand to Mrs. Stone this note which her brother, SirCharles Tregellis, has just committed to my care. "

I was quite abashed by the man's flowery way of talking--so unlikeanything which I had ever heard. He had a wizened face, and sharplittle dark eyes, which took in me and the house and my mother'sstartled face at the window all in the instant. My parents weretogether, the two of them, in the sitting-room, and my mother readthe note to us. 

"My dear Mary, " it ran, "I have stopped at the inn, because I amsomewhat ravage by the dust of your Sussex roads. A lavender-waterbath may restore me to a condition in which I may fitly pay mycompliments to a lady. Meantime, I send you Fidelio as a hostage. Pray give him a half-pint of warmish milk with six drops of purebrandy in it. A better or more faithful creature never lived. Toujours a toi. --Charles. "

"Have him in! Have him in!" cried my father, heartily, running tothe door. "Come in, Mr. Fidelio. Every man to his own taste, andsix drops to the half-pint seems a sinful watering of grog--but ifyou like it so, you shall have it. "

A smile flickered over the dark face of the servant, but hisfeatures reset themselves instantly into their usual mask ofrespectful observance. 

"You are labouring under a slight error, sir, if you will permit meto say so. My name is Ambrose, and I have the honour to be thevalet of Sir Charles Tregellis. This is Fidelio upon the cushion. "

"Tut, the dog!" cried my father, in disgust. "Heave him down by thefireside. Why should he have brandy, when many a Christian has togo without?"

"Hush, Anson!" said my mother, taking the cushion. "You will tellSir Charles that his wishes shall be carried out, and that we shallexpect him at his own convenience. "

The man went off noiselessly and swiftly, but was back in a fewminutes with a flat brown basket. 

"It is the refection, madam, " said he. "Will you permit me to laythe table? Sir Charles is accustomed to partake of certain dishesand to drink certain wines, so that we usually bring them with uswhen we visit. " He opened the basket, and in a minute he had thetable all shining with silver and glass, and studded with daintydishes. So quick and neat and silent was he in all he did, that myfather was as taken with him as I was. 

"You'd have made a right good foretopman if your heart is as stoutas your fingers are quick, " said he. "Did you never wish to havethe honour of serving your country?"

"It is my honour, sir, to serve Sir Charles Tregellis, and I desireno other master, " he answered. "But I will convey his dressing-casefrom the inn, and then all will be ready. "

He came back with a great silver-mounted box under his arm, andclose at his heels was the gentleman whose coming had made such adisturbance. 

My first impression of my uncle as he entered the room was that oneof his eyes was swollen to the size of an apple. It caught thebreath from my lips--that monstrous, glistening eye. But the nextinstant I perceived that he held a round glass in the front of it, which magnified it in this fashion. He looked at us each in turn, and then he bowed very gracefully to my mother and kissed her uponeither cheek. 

"You will permit me to compliment you, my dear Mary, " said he, in avoice which was the most mellow and beautiful that I have everheard. "I can assure you that the country air has used you wondrouswell, and that I should be proud to see my pretty sister in theMall. I am your servant, sir, " he continued, holding out his handto my father. "It was but last week that I had the honour of diningwith my friend, Lord St. Vincent, and I took occasion to mention youto him. I may tell you that your name is not forgotten at theAdmiralty, sir, and I hope that I may see you soon walking the poopof a 74-gun ship of your own. So this is my nephew, is it?" He puta hand upon each of my shoulders in a very friendly way and lookedme up and down. 

"How old are you, nephew?" he asked. 

"Seventeen, sir. "

"You look older. You look eighteen, at the least. I find him verypassable, Mary--very passable, indeed. He has not the bel air, thetournure--in our uncouth English we have no word for it. But he isas healthy as a May-hedge in bloom. "

So within a minute of his entering our door he had got himself uponterms with all of us, and with so easy and graceful a manner that itseemed as if he had known us all for years. I had a good look athim now as he stood upon the hearthrug with my mother upon one sideand my father on the other. He was a very large man, with nobleshoulders, small waist, broad hips, well-turned legs, and thesmallest of hands and feet. His face was pale and handsome, with aprominent chin, a jutting nose, and large blue staring eyes, inwhich a sort of dancing, mischievous light was for ever playing. Hewore a deep brown coat with a collar as high as his ears and tailsas low as his knees. His black breeches and silk stockings ended invery small pointed shoes, so highly polished that they twinkled withevery movement. His vest was of black velvet, open at the top toshow an embroidered shirt-front, with a high, smooth, white cravatabove it, which kept his neck for ever on the stretch. He stoodeasily, with one thumb in the arm-pit, and two fingers of the otherhand in his vest pocket. It made me proud as I watched him to thinkthat so magnificent a man, with such easy, masterful ways, should bemy own blood relation, and I could see from my mother's eyes as theyturned towards him that the same thought was in her mind. 

All this time Ambrose had been standing like a dark-clothed, bronze-faced image by the door, with the big silver-bound box under hisarm. He stepped forward now into the room. 

"Shall I convey it to your bedchamber, Sir Charles?" he asked. 

"Ah, pardon me, sister Mary, " cried my uncle, "I am old-fashionedenough to have principles--an anachronism, I know, in this lax age. One of them is never to allow my batterie de toilette out of mysight when I am travelling. I cannot readily forget the agonieswhich I endured some years ago through neglecting this precaution. I will do Ambrose the justice to say that it was before he tookcharge of my affairs. I was compelled to wear the same ruffles upontwo consecutive days. On the third morning my fellow was soaffected by the sight of my condition, that he burst into tears andlaid out a pair which he had stolen from me. "

As he spoke his face was very grave, but the light in his eyesdanced and gleamed. He handed his open snuff-box to my father, asAmbrose followed my mother out of the room. 

"You number yourself in an illustrious company by upping your fingerand thumb into it, " said he. 

"Indeed, sir!" said my father, shortly. 

"You are free of my box, as being a relative by marriage. You arefree also, nephew, and I pray you to take a pinch. It is the mostintimate sign of my goodwill. Outside ourselves there are four, Ithink, who have had access to it--the Prince, of course; Mr Pitt;Monsieur Otto, the French Ambassador; and Lord Hawkesbury. I havesometimes thought that I was premature with Lord Hawkesbury. "

"I am vastly honoured, sir, " said my father, looking suspiciously athis guest from under his shaggy eyebrows, for with that grave faceand those twinkling eyes it was hard to know how to take him. 

"A woman, sir, has her love to bestow, " said my uncle. "A man hashis snuff-box. Neither is to be lightly offered. It is a lapse oftaste; nay, more, it is a breach of morals. Only the other day, asI was seated in Watier's, my box of prime macouba open upon thetable beside me, an Irish bishop thrust in his intrusive fingers. 'Waiter, ' I cried, 'my box has been soiled! Remove it!' The manmeant no insult, you understand, but that class of people must bekept in their proper sphere. '

"A bishop!" cried my father. "You draw your line very high, sir. "

"Yes, sir, " said my uncle; "I wish no better epitaph upon mytombstone. "

My mother had in the meanwhile descended, and we all drew up to thetable. 

"You will excuse my apparent grossness, Mary, in venturing to bringmy own larder with me. Abernethy has me under his orders, and Imust eschew your rich country dainties. A little white wine and acold bird--it is as much as the niggardly Scotchman will allow me. "

"We should have you on blockading service when the levanters areblowing, " said my father. "Salt junk and weevilly biscuits, with arib of a tough Barbary ox when the tenders come in. You would haveyour spare diet there, sir. "

Straightway my uncle began to question him about the sea service, and for the whole meal my father was telling him of the Nile and ofthe Toulon blockade, and the siege of Genoa, and all that he hadseen and done. But whenever he faltered for a word, my uncle alwayshad it ready for him, and it was hard to say which knew most aboutthe business. 

"No, I read little or nothing, " said he, when my father marvelledwhere he got his knowledge. "The fact is that I can hardly pick upa print without seeing some allusion to myself: 'Sir C. T. Doesthis, ' or 'Sir C. T. Says the other, ' so I take them no longer. Butif a man is in my position all knowledge comes to him. The Duke ofYork tells me of the Army in the morning, and Lord Spencer chatswith me of the Navy in the afternoon, and Dundas whispers me what isgoing forward in the Cabinet, so that I have little need of theTimes or the Morning Chronicle. "

This set him talking of the great world of London, telling my fatherabout the men who were his masters at the Admiralty, and my motherabout the beauties of the town, and the great ladies at Almack's, but all in the same light, fanciful way, so that one never knewwhether to laugh or to take him gravely. I think it flattered himto see the way in which we all three hung upon his words. Of somehe thought highly and of some lowly, but he made no secret that thehighest of all, and the one against whom all others should bemeasured, was Sir Charles Tregellis himself. 

"As to the King, " said he, "of course, I am l'ami de famille there;and even with you I can scarce speak freely, as my relations areconfidential. "

"God bless him and keep him from ill!" cried my father. 

"It is pleasant to hear you say so, " said my uncle. "One has tocome into the country to hear honest loyalty, for a sneer and a gibeare more the fashions in town. The King is grateful to me for theinterest which I have ever shown in his son. He likes to think thatthe Prince has a man of taste in his circle. "

"And the Prince?" asked my mother. "Is he well-favoured?"

"He is a fine figure of a man. At a distance he has been mistakenfor me. And he has some taste in dress, though he gets slovenly ifI am too long away from him. I warrant you that I find a crease inhis coat to-morrow. "

We were all seated round the fire by this time, for the evening hadturned chilly. The lamp was lighted and so also was my father'spipe. 

"I suppose, " said he, "that this is your first visit to Friar'sOak?"

My uncle's face turned suddenly very grave and stern. 

"It is my first visit for many years, " said he. "I was but one-and-twenty years of age when last I came here. I am not likely toforget it. "

I knew that he spoke of his visit to Cliffe Royal at the time of themurder, and I saw by her face that my mother knew it also. Myfather, however, had either never heard of it, or had forgotten thecircumstance. 

"Was it at the inn you stayed?" he asked. 

"I stayed with the unfortunate Lord Avon. It was the occasion whenhe was accused of slaying his younger brother and fled from thecountry. "

We all fell silent, and my uncle leaned his chin upon his hand, looking thoughtfully into the fire. If I do but close my eyes now, I can see the light upon his proud, handsome face, and see also mydear father, concerned at having touched upon so terrible a memory, shooting little slanting glances at him betwixt the puffs of hispipe. 

"I dare say that it has happened with you, sir, " said my uncle atlast, "that you have lost some dear messmate, in battle or wreck, and that you have put him out of your mind in the routine of yourdaily life, until suddenly some word or some scene brings him backto your memory, and you find your sorrow as raw as upon the firstday of your loss. "

My father nodded. 

"So it is with me to-night. I never formed a close friendship witha man--I say nothing of women--save only the once. That was withLord Avon. We were of an age, he a few years perhaps my senior, butour tastes, our judgments, and our characters were alike, save onlythat he had in him a touch of pride such as I have never known inany other man. Putting aside the little foibles of a rich young manof fashion, les indescretions d'une jeunesse doree, I could havesworn that he was as good a man as I have ever known. "

"How came he, then, to such a crime?" asked my father. 

My uncle shook his head. 

"Many a time have I asked myself that question, and it comes home tome more to-night than ever. "

All the jauntiness had gone out of his manner, and he had turnedsuddenly into a sad and serious man. 

"Was it certain that he did it, Charles?" asked my mother. 

My uncle shrugged his shoulders. 

"I wish I could think it were not so. I have thought sometimes thatit was this very pride, turning suddenly to madness, which drove himto it. You have heard how he returned the money which we had lost?"

"Nay, I have heard nothing of it, " my father answered. 

"It is a very old story now, though we have not yet found an end toit. We had played for two days, the four of us: Lord Avon, hisbrother Captain Barrington, Sir Lothian Hume, and myself. Of theCaptain I knew little, save that he was not of the best repute, andwas deep in the hands of the Jews. Sir Lothian has made an evilname for himself since--'tis the same Sir Lothian who shot LordCarton in the affair at Chalk Farm--but in those days there wasnothing against him. The oldest of us was but twenty-four, and wegamed on, as I say, until the Captain had cleared the board. Wewere all hit, but our host far the hardest. 

"That night--I tell you now what it would be a bitter thing for meto tell in a court of law--I was restless and sleepless, as oftenhappens when a man has kept awake over long. My mind would dwellupon the fall of the cards, and I was tossing and turning in my bed, when suddenly a cry fell upon my ears, and then a second louder one, coming from the direction of Captain Barrington's room. Fiveminutes later I heard steps passing down the passage, and, withoutstriking a light, I opened my door and peeped out, thinking thatsome one was taken unwell. There was Lord Avon walking towards me. In one hand he held a guttering candle and in the other a brown bag, which chinked as he moved. His face was all drawn and distorted--somuch so that my question was frozen upon my lips. Before I couldutter it he turned into his chamber and softly closed the door. 

"Next morning I was awakened by finding him at my bedside. 

"'Charles, ' said he, 'I cannot abide to think that you should havelost this money in my house. You will find it here upon yourtable. '

"It was in vain that I laughed at his squeamishness, telling himthat I should most certainly have claimed my money had I won, sothat it would be strange indeed if I were not permitted to pay itwhen I lost. 

"'Neither I nor my brother will touch it, ' said he. 'There it lies, and you may do what you like about it. '

"He would listen to no argument, but dashed out of the room like amadman. But perhaps these details are familiar to you, and Godknows they are painful to me to tell. "

My father was sitting with staring eyes, and his forgotten pipereeking in his hand. 

"Pray let us hear the end of it, sir, " he cried. 

"Well, then, I had finished my toilet in an hour or so--for I wasless exigeant in those days than now--and I met Sir Lothian Hume atbreakfast. His experience had been the same as my own, and he waseager to see Captain Barrington; and to ascertain why he haddirected his brother to return the money to us. We were talking thematter over when suddenly I raised my eyes to the corner of theceiling, and I saw--I saw--"

My uncle had turned quite pale with the vividness of the memory, andhe passed his hand over his eyes. 

"It was crimson, " said he, with a shudder--"crimson with blackcracks, and from every crack--but I will give you dreams, sisterMary. Suffice it that we rushed up the stair which led direct tothe Captain's room, and there we found him lying with the bonegleaming white through his throat. A hunting-knife lay in the room--and the knife was Lord Avon's. A lace ruffle was found in the deadman's grasp--and the ruffle was Lord Avon's. Some papers were foundcharred in the grate--and the papers were Lord Avon's. Oh, my poorfriend, in what moment of madness did you come to do such a deed?"

The light had gone out of my uncle's eyes and the extravagance fromhis manner. His speech was clear and plain, with none of thosestrange London ways which had so amazed me. Here was a seconduncle, a man of heart and a man of brains, and I liked him betterthan the first. 

"And what said Lord Avon?" cried my father. 

"He said nothing. He went about like one who walks in his sleep, with horror-stricken eyes. None dared arrest him until there shouldbe due inquiry, but when the coroner's court brought wilful murderagainst him, the constables came for him in full cry. But theyfound him fled. There was a rumour that he had been seen inWestminster in the next week, and then that he had escaped forAmerica, but nothing more is known. It will be a bright day for SirLothian Hume when they can prove him dead, for he is next of kin, and till then he can touch neither title nor estate. "

The telling of this grim story had cast a chill upon all of us. Myuncle held out his hands towards the blaze, and I noticed that theywere as white as the ruffles which fringed them. 

"I know not how things are at Cliffe Royal now, " said he, thoughtfully. "It was not a cheery house, even before this shadowfell upon it. A fitter stage was never set forth for such atragedy. But seventeen years have passed, and perhaps even thathorrible ceiling--"

"It still bears the stain, " said I. 

I know not which of the three was the more astonished, for my motherhad not heard of my adventures of the night. They never took theirwondering eyes off me as I told my story, and my heart swelled withpride when my uncle said that we had carried ourselves well, andthat he did not think that many of our age would have stood it asstoutly. 

"But as to this ghost, it must have been the creature of your ownminds, " said he. "Imagination plays us strange tricks, and though Ihave as steady a nerve as a man might wish, I cannot answer for whatI might see if I were to stand under that blood-stained ceiling atmidnight. "

"Uncle, " said I, "I saw a figure as plainly as I see that fire, andI heard the steps as clearly as I hear the crackle of the fagots. Besides, we could not both be deceived. "

"There is truth in that, " said be, thoughtfully. "You saw nofeatures, you say?"

"It was too dark. "

"But only a figure?"

"The dark outline of one. "

"And it retreated up the stairs?"

"Yes. "

"And vanished into the wall?"

"Yes. "

"What part of the wall?" cried a voice from behind us. 

My mother screamed, and down came my father's pipe on to thehearthrug. I had sprung round with a catch of my breath, and therewas the valet, Ambrose, his body in the shadow of the doorway, hisdark face protruded into the light, and two burning eyes fixed uponmine. 

"What the deuce is the meaning of this, sir?" cried my uncle. 

It was strange to see the gleam and passion fade out of the man'sface, and the demure mask of the valet replace it. His eyes stillsmouldered, but his features regained their prim composure in aninstant. 

"I beg your pardon, Sir Charles, " said he. "I had come in to askyou if you had any orders for me, and I did not like to interruptthe young gentleman's story. I am afraid that I have been somewhatcarried away by it. "

"I never knew you forget yourself before, " said my uncle. 

"You will, I am sure, forgive me, Sir Charles, if you will call tomind the relation in which I stood to Lord Avon. " He spoke withsome dignity of manner, and with a bow he left the room. 

"We must make some little allowance, " said my uncle, with a suddenreturn to his jaunty manner. "When a man can brew a dish ofchocolate, or tie a cravat, as Ambrose does, he may claimconsideration. The fact is that the poor fellow was valet to LordAvon, that he was at Cliffe Royal upon the fatal night of which Ihave spoken, and that he is most devoted to his old master. But mytalk has been somewhat triste, sister Mary, and now we shall return, if you please, to the dresses of the Countess Lieven, and the gossipof St. James. "

CHAPTER VI--ON THE THRESHOLD

My father sent me to bed early that night, though I was very eagerto stay up, for every word which this man said held my attention. His face, his manner, the large waves and sweeps of his white hands, his easy air of superiority, his fantastic fashion of talk, allfilled me with interest and wonder. But, as I afterwards learned, their conversation was to be about myself and my own prospects, so Iwas despatched to my room, whence far into the night I could hearthe deep growl of my father and the rich tones of my uncle, with anoccasional gentle murmur from my mother, as they talked in the roombeneath. 

I had dropped asleep at last, when I was awakened suddenly bysomething wet being pressed against my face, and by two warm armswhich were cast round me. My mother's cheek was against my own, andI could hear the click of her sobs, and feel her quiver and shake inthe darkness. A faint light stole through the latticed window, andI could dimly see that she was in white, with her black hair looseupon her shoulders. 

"You won't forget us, Roddy? You won't forget us?"

"Why, mother, what is it?"

"Your uncle, Roddy--he is going to take you away from us. "

"When, mother?"

"To-morrow. "

God forgive me, how my heart bounded for joy, when hers, which waswithin touch of it, was breaking with sorrow!

"Oh, mother!" I cried. "To London?"

"First to Brighton, that he may present you to the Prince. Next dayto London, where you will meet the great people, Roddy, and learn tolook down upon--to look down upon your poor, simple, old-fashionedfather and mother. "

I put my arms about her to console her, but she wept so that, forall my seventeen years and pride of manhood, it set me weeping also, and with such a hiccoughing noise, since I had not a woman's knackof quiet tears, that it finally turned her own grief to laughter. 

"Charles would be flattered if he could see the gracious way inwhich we receive his kindness, " said she. "Be still, Roddy dear, oryou will certainly wake him. "

"I'll not go if it is to grieve you, " I cried. 

"Nay, dear, you must go, for it may be the one great chance of yourlife. And think how proud it will make us all when we hear of youin the company of Charles's grand friends. But you will promise menot to gamble, Roddy? You heard to-night of the dreadful thingswhich come from it. "

"I promise you, mother. "

"And you will be careful of wine, Roddy? You are young and unusedto it. "

"Yes, mother. "

"And play-actresses also, Roddy. And you will not cast yourunderclothing until June is in. Young Master Overton came by hisdeath through it. Think well of your dress, Roddy, so as to do youruncle credit, for it is the thing for which he is himself mostfamed. You have but to do what he will direct. But if there is atime when you are not meeting grand people, you can wear out yourcountry things, for your brown coat is as good as new, and the blueone, if it were ironed and relined, would take you through thesummer. I have put out your Sunday clothes with the nankeen vest, since you are to see the Prince to-morrow, and you will wear yourbrown silk stockings and buckle shoes. Be guarded in crossing theLondon streets, for I am told that the hackney coaches are past allimagining. Fold your clothes when you go to bed, Roddy, and do notforget your evening prayers, for, oh, my dear boy, the days oftemptation are at hand, when I will no longer be with you to helpyou. "

So with advice and guidance both for this world and the next did mymother, with her soft, warm arms around me, prepare me for the greatstep which lay before me. 

My uncle did not appear at breakfast in the morning, but Ambrosebrewed him a dish of chocolate and took it to his room. When atlast, about midday, he did descend, he was so fine with his curledhair, his shining teeth, his quizzing glass, his snow-white ruffles, and his laughing eyes, that I could not take my gaze from him. 

"Well, nephew, " he cried, "what do you think of the prospect ofcoming to town with me?"

"I thank you, sir, for the kind interest which you take in me, " saidI. 

"But you must be a credit to me. My nephew must be of the best ifhe is to be in keeping with the rest of me. "

"You'll find him a chip of good wood, sir, " said my father. 

"We must make him a polished chip before we have done with him. Your aim, my dear nephew, must always be to be in bon ton. It isnot a case of wealth, you understand. Mere riches cannot do it. Golden Price has forty thousand a year, but his clothes aredisastrous. I assure you that I saw him come down St. James'sStreet the other day, and I was so shocked at his appearance that Ihad to step into Vernet's for a glass of orange brandy. No, it is aquestion of natural taste, and of following the advice and exampleof those who are more experienced than yourself. "

"I fear, Charles, that Roddy's wardrobe is country-made, " said mymother. 

"We shall soon set that right when we get to town. We shall seewhat Stultz or Weston can do for him, " my uncle answered. "We mustkeep him quiet until he has some clothes to wear. "

This slight upon my best Sunday suit brought a flush to my mother'scheeks, which my uncle instantly observed, for he was quick innoticing trifles. 

"The clothes are very well for Friar's Oak, sister Mary, " said he. "And yet you can understand that they might seem rococo in the Mall. If you leave him in my hands I shall see to the matter. "

"On how much, sir, " asked my father, "can a young man dress intown?"

"With prudence and reasonable care, a young man of fashion can dressupon eight hundred a year, " my uncle answered. 

I saw my poor father's face grow longer. 

"I fear, sir, that Roddy must keep his country clothes, " said he. "Even with my prize-money--"

"Tut, sir!" cried my uncle. "I already owe Weston something over athousand, so how can a few odd hundreds affect it? If my nephewcomes with me, my nephew is my care. The point is settled, and Imust refuse to argue upon it. " He waved his white hands as if tobrush aside all opposition. 

My parents tried to thank him, but he cut them short. 

"By the way, now that I am in Friar's Oak, there is another smallpiece of business which I have to perform, " said he. "I believethat there is a fighting-man named Harrison here, who at one timemight have held the championship. In those days poor Avon and Iwere his principal backers. I should like to have a word with him. "

You may think how proud I was to walk down the village street withmy magnificent relative, and to note out of the corner of my eye howthe folk came to the doors and windows to see us pass. ChampionHarrison was standing outside the smithy, and he pulled his cap offwhen he saw my uncle. 

"God bless me, sir! Who'd ha' thought of seem' you at Friar's Oak?Why, Sir Charles, it brings old memories back to look at your faceagain. "

"Glad to see you looking so fit, Harrison, " said my uncle, runninghis eyes over him. "Why, with a week's training you would be asgood a man as ever. I don't suppose you scale more than thirteenand a half?"

"Thirteen ten, Sir Charles. I'm in my fortieth year, but I am soundin wind and limb, and if my old woman would have let me off mypromise, I'd ha' had a try with some of these young ones before now. I hear that they've got some amazin' good stuff up from Bristol oflate. "

"Yes, the Bristol yellowman has been the winning colour of late. How d'ye do, Mrs. Harrison? I don't suppose you remember me?"

She had come out from the house, and I noticed that her worn face--on which some past terror seemed to have left its shadow--hardenedinto stern lines as she looked at my uncle. 

"I remember you too well, Sir Charles Tregellis, " said she. "Itrust that you have not come here to-day to try to draw my husbandback into the ways that he has forsaken. "

"That's the way with her, Sir Charles, " said Harrison, resting hisgreat hand upon the woman's shoulder. "She's got my promise, andshe holds me to it! There was never a better or more hard-workingwife, but she ain't what you'd call a patron of sport, and that's afact. "

"Sport!" cried the woman, bitterly. "A fine sport for you, SirCharles, with your pleasant twenty-mile drive into the country andyour luncheon-basket and your wines, and so merrily back to Londonin the cool of the evening, with a well-fought battle to talk over. Think of the sport that it was to me to sit through the long hours, listening for the wheels of the chaise which would bring my man backto me. Sometimes he could walk in, and sometimes he was led in, andsometimes he was carried in, and it was only by his clothes that Icould know him--"

"Come, wifie, " said Harrison, patting her on the shoulder. "I'vebeen cut up in my time, but never as bad as that. "

"And then to live for weeks afterwards with the fear that everyknock at the door may be to tell us that the other is dead, and thatmy man may have to stand in the dock and take his trial for murder. "

"No, she hasn't got a sportin' drop in her veins, " said Harrison. "She'd never make a patron, never! It's Black Baruk's business thatdid it, when we thought he'd napped it once too often. Well, shehas my promise, and I'll never sling my hat over the ropes unlessshe gives me leave. "

"You'll keep your hat on your head like an honest, God-fearing man, John, " said his wife, turning back into the house. 

"I wouldn't for the world say anything to make you change yourresolutions, " said my uncle. "At the same time, if you had wishedto take a turn at the old sport, I had a good thing to put in yourway. "

"Well, it's no use, sir, " said Harrison, "but I'd be glad to hearabout it all the same. "

"They have a very good bit of stuff at thirteen stone downGloucester way. Wilson is his name, and they call him Crab onaccount of his style. "

Harrison shook his head. "Never heard of him, sir. "

"Very likely not, for he has never shown in the P. R. But they thinkgreat things of him in the West, and he can hold his own with eitherof the Belchers with the mufflers. "

"Sparrin' ain't fightin', " said the smith

"I am told that he had the best of it in a by-battle with NoahJames, of Cheshire. "

"There's no gamer man on the list, sir, than Noah James, theguardsman, " said Harrison. "I saw him myself fight fifty roundsafter his jaw had been cracked in three places. If Wilson couldbeat him, Wilson will go far. "

"So they think in the West, and they mean to spring him on theLondon talent. Sir Lothian Hume is his patron, and to make a longstory short, he lays me odds that I won't find a young one of hisweight to meet him. I told him that I had not heard of any goodyoung ones, but that I had an old one who had not put his foot intoa ring for many years, who would make his man wish he had never cometo London. 

"'Young or old, under twenty or over thirty-five, you may bring whomyou will at the weight, and I shall lay two to one on Wilson, ' saidhe. I took him in thousands, and here I am. "

"It won't do, Sir Charles, " said the smith, shaking his head. "There's nothing would please me better, but you heard foryourself. "

"Well, if you won't fight, Harrison, I must try to get somepromising colt. I'd be glad of your advice in the matter. By theway, I take the chair at a supper of the Fancy at the Waggon andHorses in St. Martin's Lane next Friday. I should be very glad ifyou will make one of my guests. Halloa, who's this?" Up flew hisglass to his eye. 

Boy Jim had come out from the forge with his hammer in his hand. Hehad, I remember, a grey flannel shirt, which was open at the neckand turned up at the sleeves. My uncle ran his eyes over the finelines of his magnificent figure with the glance of a connoisseur. 

"That's my nephew, Sir Charles. "

"Is he living with you?"

"His parents are dead. "

"Has he ever been in London?"

"No, Sir Charles. He's been with me here since he was as high asthat hammer. "

My uncle turned to Boy Jim. 

"I hear that you have never been in London, " said he. "Your uncleis coming up to a supper which I am giving to the Fancy next Friday. Would you care to make one of us?"

Boy Jim's dark eyes sparkled with pleasure. 

"I should be glad to come, sir. "

"No, no, Jim, " cried the smith, abruptly. "I'm sorry to gainsayyou, lad, but there are reasons why I had rather you stayed downhere with your aunt. "

"Tut, Harrison, let the lad come!" cried my uncle. 

"No, no, Sir Charles. It's dangerous company for a lad of hismettle. There's plenty for him to do when I'm away. "

Poor Jim turned away with a clouded brow and strode into the smithyagain. For my part, I slipped after him to try to console him, andto tell him all the wonderful changes which had come so suddenlyinto my life. But I had not got half through my story, and Jim, like the good fellow that he was, had just begun to forget his owntroubles in his delight at my good fortune, when my uncle called tome from without. The curricle with its tandem mares was waiting forus outside the cottage, and Ambrose had placed the refection-basket, the lap-dog, and the precious toilet-box inside of it. He hadhimself climbed up behind, and I, after a hearty handshake from myfather, and a last sobbing embrace from my mother, took my placebeside my uncle in the front. 

"Let go her head!" cried he to the ostler, and with a snap, a crack, and a jingle, away we went upon our journey. 

Across all the years how clearly I can see that spring day, with thegreen English fields, the windy English sky, and the yellow, beetle-browed cottage in which I had grown from a child to a man. I see, too, the figures at the garden gate: my mother, with her faceturned away and her handkerchief waving; my father, with his bluecoat and his white shorts, leaning upon his stick with his handshading his eyes as he peered after us. All the village was out tosee young Roddy Stone go off with his grand relative from London tocall upon the Prince in his own palace. The Harrisons were wavingto me from the smithy, and John Cummings from the steps of the inn, and I saw Joshua Allen, my old schoolmaster, pointing me out to thepeople, as if he were showing what came from his teaching. To makeit complete, who should drive past just as we cleared the villagebut Miss Hinton, the play-actress, the pony and phaeton the same aswhen first I saw her, but she herself another woman; and I thoughtto myself that if Boy Jim had done nothing but that one thing, heneed not think that his youth had been wasted in the country. Shewas driving to see him, I have no doubt, for they were closer thanever, and she never looked up nor saw the hand that I waved to her. So as we took the curve of the road the little village vanished, andthere in the dip of the Downs, past the spires of Patcham and ofPreston, lay the broad blue sea and the grey houses of Brighton, with the strange Eastern domes and minarets of the Prince's Pavilionshooting out from the centre of it. 

To every traveller it was a sight of beauty, but to me it was theworld--the great wide free world--and my heart thrilled andfluttered as the young bird's may when it first hears the whirr ofits own flight, and skims along with the blue heaven above it andthe green fields beneath. The day may come when it may look backregretfully to the snug nest in the thornbush, but what does it reckof that when spring is in the air and youth in its blood, and theold hawk of trouble has not yet darkened the sunshine with the ill-boding shadow of its wings?

CHAPTER VII--THE HOPE OF ENGLAND

My uncle drove for some time in silence, but I was conscious thathis eye was always coming round to me, and I had an uneasyconviction that he was already beginning to ask himself whether hecould make anything of me, or whether he had been betrayed into anindiscretion when he had allowed his sister to persuade him to showher son something of the grand world in which he lived. 

"You sing, don't you, nephew?" he asked, suddenly. 

"Yes, sir, a little. "

"A baritone, I should fancy?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And your mother tells me that you play the fiddle. These thingswill be of service to you with the Prince. Music runs in hisfamily. Your education has been what you could get at a villageschool. Well, you are not examined in Greek roots in politesociety, which is lucky for some of us. It is as well just to havea tag or two of Horace or Virgil: 'sub tegmine fagi, ' or 'habetfoenum in cornu, ' which gives a flavour to one's conversation likethe touch of garlic in a salad. It is not bon ton to be learned, but it is a graceful thing to indicate that you have forgotten agood deal. Can you write verse?"

"I fear not, sir. "

"A small book of rhymes may be had for half a crown. Vers deSociete are a great assistance to a young man. If you have theladies on your side, it does not matter whom you have against you. You must learn to open a door, to enter a room, to present a snuff-box, raising the lid with the forefinger of the hand in which youhold it. You must acquire the bow for a man, with its necessarytouch of dignity, and that for a lady, which cannot be too humble, and should still contain the least suspicion of abandon. You mustcultivate a manner with women which shall be deprecating and yetaudacious. Have you any eccentricity?"

It made me laugh, the easy way in which he asked the question, as ifit were a most natural thing to possess. 

"You have a pleasant, catching laugh, at all events, " said he. "Butan eccentricity is very bon ton at present, and if you feel anyleaning towards one, I should certainly advise you to let it run itscourse. Petersham would have remained a mere peer all his life hadit not come out that he had a snuff-box for every day in the year, and that he had caught cold through a mistake of his valet, who senthim out on a bitter winter day with a thin Sevres china box insteadof a thick tortoiseshell. That brought him out of the ruck, yousee, and people remember him. Even some small characteristic, suchas having an apricot tart on your sideboard all the year round, orputting your candle out at night by stuffing it under your pillow, serves to separate you from your neighbour. In my own case, it ismy precise judgment upon matter of dress and decorum which hasplaced me where I am. I do not profess to follow a law. I set one. For example, I am taking you to-day to see the Prince in a nankeenvest. What do you think will be the consequence of that?"

My fears told me that it might be my own very great discomfiture, but I did not say so. 

"Why, the night coach will carry the news to London. It will be inBrookes's and White's to-morrow morning. Within, a week St. James'sStreet and the Mall will be full of nankeen waistcoats. A mostpainful incident happened to me once. My cravat came undone in thestreet, and I actually walked from Carlton House to Watier's inBruton Street with the two ends hanging loose. Do you suppose itshook my position? The same evening there were dozens of youngbloods walking the streets of London with their cravats loose. If Ihad not rearranged mine there would not be one tied in the wholekingdom now, and a great art would have been prematurely lost. Youhave not yet began to practise it?"

I confessed that I had not. 

"You should begin now in your youth. I will myself teach you thecoup d'archet. By using a few hours in each day, which wouldotherwise be wasted, you may hope to have excellent cravats inmiddle life. The whole knack lies in pointing your chin to the sky, and then arranging your folds by the gradual descent of your lowerjaw. "

When my uncle spoke like this there was always that dancing, mischievous light in his dark blue eyes, which showed me that thishumour of his was a conscious eccentricity, depending, as I believe, upon a natural fastidiousness of taste, but wilfully driven togrotesque lengths for the very reason which made him recommend mealso to develop some peculiarity of my own. When I thought of theway in which he had spoken of his unhappy friend, Lord Avon, uponthe evening before, and of the emotion which he showed as he toldthe horrible story, I was glad to think that there was the heart ofa man there, however much it might please him to conceal it. 

And, as it happened, I was very soon to have another peep at it, fora most unexpected event befell us as we drew up in front of theCrown hotel. A swarm of ostlers and grooms had rushed out to us, and my uncle, throwing down the reins, gathered Fidelio on hiscushion from under the seat. 

"Ambrose, " he cried, "you may take Fidelio. "

But there came no answer. The seat behind was unoccupied. Ambrosewas gone. 

We could hardly believe our eyes when we alighted and found that itwas really so. He had most certainly taken his seat there atFriar's Oak, and from there on we had come without a break as fastas the mares could travel. Whither, then, could he have vanishedto?

"He's fallen off in a fit!" cried my uncle. "I'd drive back, butthe Prince is expecting us. Where's the landlord? Here, Coppinger, send your best man back to Friar's Oak as fast as his horse can go, to find news of my valet, Ambrose. See that no pains be spared. Now, nephew, we shall lunch, and then go up to the Pavilion. "

My uncle was much disturbed by the strange loss of his valet, themore so as it was his custom to go through a whole series ofwashings and changings after even the shortest journey. For my ownpart, mindful of my mother's advice, I carefully brushed the dustfrom my clothes and made myself as neat as possible. My heart wasdown in the soles of my little silver-buckled shoes now that I hadthe immediate prospect of meeting so great and terrible a person asthe Prince of Wales. I had seen his flaring yellow barouche flyingthrough Friar's Oak many a time, and had halloaed and waved my hatwith the others as it passed, but never in my wildest dreams had itentered my head that I should ever be called upon to look him in theface and answer his questions. My mother had taught me to regardhim with reverence, as one of those whom God had placed to rule overus; but my uncle smiled when I told him of her teaching. 

"You are old enough to see things as they are, nephew, " said he, "and your knowledge of them is the badge that you are in that innercircle where I mean to place you. There is no one who knows thePrince better than I do, and there is no one who trusts him less. Astranger contradiction of qualities was never gathered under onehat. He is a man who is always in a hurry, and yet has neveranything to do. He fusses about things with which he has noconcern, and he neglects every obvious duty. He is generous tothose who have no claim upon him, but he has ruined his tradesmen byrefusing to pay his just debts. He is affectionate to casualacquaintances, but he dislikes his father, loathes his mother, andis not on speaking terms with his wife. He claims to be the firstgentleman of England, but the gentlemen of England have responded byblackballing his friends at their clubs, and by warning him off fromNewmarket under suspicion of having tampered with a horse. Hespends his days in uttering noble sentiments, and contradicting themby ignoble actions. He tells stories of his own doings which are sogrotesque that they can only be explained by the madness which runsin his blood. And yet, with all this, he can be courteous, dignified, and kindly upon occasion, and I have seen an impulsivegood-heartedness in the man which has made me overlook faults whichcome mainly from his being placed in a position which no one uponthis earth was ever less fitted to fill. But this is betweenourselves, nephew; and now you will come with me and you will forman opinion for yourself. "

It was but a short walk, and yet it took us some time, for my unclestalked along with great dignity, his lace-bordered handkerchief inone hand, and his cane with the clouded amber head dangling from theother. Every one that we met seemed to know him, and their hatsflew from their heads as we passed. He took little notice of thesegreetings, save to give a nod to one, or to slightly raise hisforefinger to another. It chanced, however, that as we turned intothe Pavilion Grounds, we met a magnificent team of four coal-blackhorses, driven by a rough-looking, middle-aged fellow in an oldweather-stained cape. There was nothing that I could see todistinguish him from any professional driver, save that he waschatting very freely with a dainty little woman who was perched onthe box beside him. 

"Halloa, Charlie! Good drive down?" he cried. 

My uncle bowed and smiled to the lady. 

"Broke it at Friar's Oak, " said he. "I've my light curricle and twonew mares--half thorough-bred, half Cleveland bay. "

"What d'you think of my team of blacks?" asked the other. 

"Yes, Sir Charles, what d'you think of them? Ain't they damnationsmart?" cried the little woman. 

"Plenty of power. Good horses for the Sussex clay. Too thick aboutthe fetlocks for me. I like to travel. "

"Travel!" cried the woman, with extraordinary vehemence. "Why, whatthe--" and she broke into such language as I had never heard from aman's lips before. "We'd start with our swingle-bars touching, andwe'd have your dinner ordered, cooked, laid, and eaten before youwere there to claim it. "

"By George, yes, Letty is right!" cried the man. "D'you start to-morrow?"

"Yes, Jack. "

"Well, I'll make you an offer. Look ye here, Charlie! I'll springmy cattle from the Castle Square at quarter before nine. You canfollow as the clock strikes. I've double the horses and double theweight. If you so much as see me before we cross WestminsterBridge, I'll pay you a cool hundred. If not, it's my money--play orpay. Is it a match?"

"Very good, " said my uncle, and, raising his hat, he led the wayinto the grounds. As I followed, I saw the woman take the reins, while the man looked after us, and squirted a jet of tobacco-juicefrom between his teeth in coachman fashion. 

"That's Sir John Lade, " said my uncle, "one of the richest men andbest whips in England. There isn't a professional on the road thatcan handle either his tongue or his ribbons better; but his wife, Lady Letty, is his match with the one or the other. "

"It was dreadful to hear her, " said I. 

"Oh, it's her eccentricity. We all have them; and she amuses thePrince. Now, nephew, keep close at my elbow, and have your eyesopen and your mouth shut. "

Two lines of magnificent red and gold footmen who guarded the doorbowed deeply as my uncle and I passed between them, he with his headin the air and a manner as if he entered into his own, whilst Itried to look assured, though my heart was beating thin and fast. Within there was a high and large hall, ornamented with Easterndecorations, which harmonized with the domes and minarets of theexterior. A number of people were moving quietly about, forminginto groups and whispering to each other. One of these, a short, burly, red-faced man, full of fuss and self-importance, camehurrying up to my uncle. 

"I have de goot news, Sir Charles, " said he, sinking his voice asone who speaks of weighty measures. "Es ist vollendet--dat is, Ihave it at last thoroughly done. "

"Well, serve it hot, " said my uncle, coldly, "and see that thesauces are a little better than when last I dined at Carlton House. "

"Ah, mine Gott, you tink I talk of de cuisine. It is de affair ofde Prince dat I speak of. Dat is one little vol-au-vent dat isworth one hundred tousand pound. Ten per cent. , and double to berepaid when de Royal pappa die. Alles ist fertig. Goldshmidt of deHague have took it up, and de Dutch public has subscribe de money. "

"God help the Dutch public!" muttered my uncle, as the fat littleman bustled off with his news to some new-comer. "That's thePrince's famous cook, nephew. He has not his equal in England for afilet saute aux champignons. He manages his master's moneyaffairs. "

"The cook!" I exclaimed, in bewilderment. 

"You look surprised, nephew. "

"I should have thought that some respectable banking firm--"

My uncle inclined his lips to my ear. 

"No respectable house would touch them, " he whispered. "Ah, Mellish, is the Prince within?"

"In the private saloon, Sir Charles, " said the gentleman addressed. 

"Any one with him?"

"Sheridan and Francis. He said he expected you. "

"Then we shall go through. "

I followed him through the strangest succession of rooms, full ofcurious barbaric splendour which impressed me as being very rich andwonderful, though perhaps I should think differently now. Gold andscarlet in arabesque designs gleamed upon the walls, with giltdragons and monsters writhing along cornices and out of corners. Look where I would, on panel or ceiling, a score of mirrors flashedback the picture of the tall, proud, white-faced man, and the youthwho walked so demurely at his elbow. Finally, a footman opened adoor, and we found ourselves in the Prince's own private apartment. 

Two gentlemen were lounging in a very easy fashion upon luxuriousfauteuils at the further end of the room and a third stood betweenthem, his thick, well-formed legs somewhat apart and his handsclasped behind him. The sun was shining in upon them through aside-window, and I can see the three faces now--one in the dusk, onein the light, and one cut across by the shadow. Of those at thesides, I recall the reddish nose and dark, flashing eyes of the one, and the hard, austere face of the other, with the high coat-collarsand many-wreathed cravats. These I took in at a glance, but it wasupon the man in the centre that my gaze was fixed, for this I knewmust be the Prince of Wales. 

George was then in his forty-first year, and with the help of histailor and his hairdresser, he might have passed as somewhat less. The sight of him put me at my ease, for he was a merry-looking man, handsome too in a portly, full-blooded way, with laughing eyes andpouting, sensitive lips. His nose was turned upwards, whichincreased the good-humoured effect of his countenance at the expenseof its dignity. His cheeks were pale and sodden, like those of aman who lived too well and took too little exercise. He was dressedin a single-breasted black coat buttoned up, a pair of leatherpantaloons stretched tightly across his broad thighs, polishedHessian boots, and a huge white neckcloth. 

"Halloa, Tregellis!" he cried, in the cheeriest fashion, as my unclecrossed the threshold, and then suddenly the smile faded from hisface, and his eyes gleamed with resentment. "What the deuce isthis?" he shouted, angrily. 

A thrill of fear passed through me as I thought that it was myappearance which had produced this outburst. But his eyes weregazing past us, and glancing round we saw that a man in a brown coatand scratch wig had followed so closely at our heels, that thefootmen had let him pass under the impression that he was of ourparty. His face was very red, and the folded blue paper which hecarried in his hand shook and crackled in his excitement. 

"Why, it's Vuillamy, the furniture man, " cried the Prince. "What, am I to be dunned in my own private room? Where's Mellish? Where'sTownshend? What the deuce is Tom Tring doing?"

"I wouldn't have intruded, your Royal Highness, but I must have themoney--or even a thousand on account would do. "

"Must have it, must you, Vuillamy? That's a fine word to use. Ipay my debts in my own time, and I'm not to be bullied. Turn himout, footman! Take him away!"

"If I don't get it by Monday, I shall be in your papa's Bench, "wailed the little man, and as the footman led him out we could hearhim, amidst shouts of laughter, still protesting that he would windup in "papa's Bench. "

"That's the very place for a furniture man, " said the man with thered nose. 

"It should be the longest bench in the world, Sherry, " answered thePrince, "for a good many of his subjects will want seats on it. Very glad to see you back, Tregellis, but you must really be morecareful what you bring in upon your skirts. It was only yesterdaythat we had an infernal Dutchman here howling about some arrears ofinterest and the deuce knows what. 'My good fellow, ' said I, 'aslong as the Commons starve me, I have to starve you, ' and so thematter ended. "

"I think, sir, that the Commons would respond now if the matter werefairly put before them by Charlie Fox or myself, " said Sheridan. 

The Prince burst out against the Commons with an energy of hatredthat one would scarce expect from that chubby, good-humoured face. 

"Why, curse them!" he cried. "After all their preaching andthrowing my father's model life, as they called it, in my teeth, they had to pay HIS debts to the tune of nearly a million, whilst Ican't get a hundred thousand out of them. And look at all they'vedone for my brothers! York is Commander-in-Chief. Clarence isAdmiral. What am I? Colonel of a damned dragoon regiment under theorders of my own younger brother. It's my mother that's at thebottom of it all. She always tried to hold me back. But what'sthis you've brought, Tregellis, eh?"

My uncle put his hand on my sleeve and led me forward. 

"This is my sister's son, sir; Rodney Stone by name, " said he. "Heis coming with me to London, and I thought it right to begin bypresenting him to your Royal Highness. "

"Quite right! Quite right!" said the Prince, with a good-naturedsmile, patting me in a friendly way upon the shoulder. "Is yourmother living?"

"Yes, sir, " said I. 

"If you are a good son to her you will never go wrong. And, mark mywords, Mr. Rodney Stone, you should honour the King, love yourcountry, and uphold the glorious British Constitution. "

When I thought of the energy with which he had just been cursing theHouse of Commons, I could scarce keep from smiling, and I sawSheridan put his hand up to his lips. 

"You have only to do this, to show a regard for your word, and tokeep out of debt in order to insure a happy and respected life. What is your father, Mr. Stone? Royal Navy! Well, it is a gloriousservice. I have had a touch of it myself. Did I ever tell you howwe laid aboard the French sloop of war Minerve--hey, Tregellis?"

"No, sir, " said my uncle. Sheridan and Francis exchanged glancesbehind the Prince's back. 

"She was flying her tricolour out there within sight of my pavilionwindows. Never saw such monstrous impudence in my life! It wouldtake a man of less mettle than me to stand it. Out I went in mylittle cock-boat--you know my sixty-ton yawl, Charlie?--with twofour-pounders on each side, and a six-pounder in the bows. "

"Well, sir! Well, sir! And what then, sir?" cried Francis, whoappeared to be an irascible, rough-tongued man. 

"You will permit me to tell the story in my own way, Sir Philip, "said the Prince, with dignity. "I was about to say that our metalwas so light that I give you my word, gentlemen, that I carried myport broadside in one coat pocket, and my starboard in the other. Up we came to the big Frenchman, took her fire, and scraped thepaint off her before we let drive. But it was no use. By George, gentlemen, our balls just stuck in her timbers like stones in a mudwall. She had her nettings up, but we scrambled aboard, and at itwe went hammer and anvil. It was a sharp twenty minutes, but webeat her people down below, made the hatches fast on them, and towedher into Seaham. Surely you were with us, Sherry?"

"I was in London at the time, " said Sheridan, gravely. 

"You can vouch for it, Francis!"

"I can vouch to having heard your Highness tell the story. "

"It was a rough little bit of cutlass and pistol work. But, for myown part, I like the rapier. It's a gentleman's weapon. You heardof my bout with the Chevalier d'Eon? I had him at my sword-pointfor forty minutes at Angelo's. He was one of the best blades inEurope, but I was a little too supple in the wrist for him. 'Ithank God there was a button on your Highness's foil, ' said he, whenwe had finished our breather. By the way, you're a bit of aduellist yourself, Tregellis. How often have you been out?"

"I used to go when I needed exercise, " said my uncle, carelessly. "But I have taken to tennis now instead. A painful incidenthappened the last time that I was out, and it sickened me of it. "

"You killed your man--?"

"No, no, sir, it was worse than that. I had a coat that Weston hasnever equalled. To say that it fitted me is not to express it. ItWAS me--like the hide on a horse. I've had sixty from him since, but he could never approach it. The sit of the collar brought tearsinto my eyes, sir, when first I saw it; and as to the waist--"

"But the duel, Tregellis!" cried the Prince. 

"Well, sir, I wore it at the duel, like the thoughtless fool that Iwas. It was Major Hunter, of the Guards, with whom I had had alittle tracasserie, because I hinted that he should not come intoBrookes's smelling of the stables. I fired first, and missed. Hefired, and I shrieked in despair. 'He's hit! A surgeon! Asurgeon!' they cried. 'A tailor! A tailor!' said I, for there wasa double hole through the tails of my masterpiece. No, it was pastall repair. You may laugh, sir, but I'll never see the like of itagain. "

I had seated myself on a settee in the corner, upon the Prince'sinvitation, and very glad I was to remain quiet and unnoticed, listening to the talk of these men. It was all in the sameextravagant vein, garnished with many senseless oaths; but Iobserved this difference, that, whereas my uncle and Sheridan hadsomething of humour in their exaggeration, Francis tended always toill-nature, and the Prince to self-glorification. Finally, theconversation turned to music--I am not sure that my uncle did notartfully bring it there, and the Prince, hearing from him of mytastes, would have it that I should then and there sit down at thewonderful little piano, all inlaid with mother-of-pearl, which stoodin the corner, and play him the accompaniment to his song. It wascalled, as I remember, "The Briton Conquers but to Save, " and herolled it out in a very fair bass voice, the others joining in thechorus, and clapping vigorously when he finished. 

"Bravo, Mr. Stone!" said he. "You have an excellent touch; and Iknow what I am talking about when I speak of music. Cramer, of theOpera, said only the other day that he had rather hand his baton tome than to any amateur in England. Halloa, it's Charlie Fox, by allthat's wonderful!"

He had run forward with much warmth, and was shaking the hand of asingular-looking person who had just entered the room. The new-comer was a stout, square-built man, plainly and almost carelesslydressed, with an uncouth manner and a rolling gait. His age mighthave been something over fifty, and his swarthy, harshly-featuredface was already deeply lined either by his years or by hisexcesses. I have never seen a countenance in which the angel andthe devil were more obviously wedded. Above, was the high, broadforehead of the philosopher, with keen, humorous eyes looking outfrom under thick, strong brows. Below, was the heavy jowl of thesensualist curving in a broad crease over his cravat. That brow wasthe brow of the public Charles Fox, the thinker, the philanthropist, the man who rallied and led the Liberal party during the twenty mosthazardous years of its existence. That jaw was the jaw of theprivate Charles Fox, the gambler, the libertine, the drunkard. Yetto his sins he never added the crowning one of hypocrisy. His viceswere as open as his virtues. In some quaint freak of Nature, twospirits seemed to have been joined in one body, and the same frameto contain the best and the worst man of his age. 

"I've run down from Chertsey, sir, just to shake you by the hand, and to make sure that the Tories have not carried you off. "

"Hang it, Charlie, you know that I sink or swim with my friends! AWhig I started, and a Whig I shall remain. "

I thought that I could read upon Fox's dark face that he was by nomeans so confident about the Prince's principles. 

"Pitt has been at you, sir, I understand?"

"Yes, confound him! I hate the sight of that sharp-pointed snout ofhis, which he wants to be ever poking into my affairs. He andAddington have been boggling about the debts again. Why, look ye, Charlie, if Pitt held me in contempt he could not behave different. "

I gathered from the smile which flitted over Sheridan's expressiveface that this was exactly what Pitt did do. But straightway theyall plunged into politics, varied by the drinking of sweetmaraschino, which a footman brought round upon a salver. The King, the Queen, the Lords, and the Commons were each in succession cursedby the Prince, in spite of the excellent advice which he had givenme about the British Constitution. 

"Why, they allow me so little that I can't look after my own people. There are a dozen annuities to old servants and the like, and it'sall I can do to scrape the money together to pay them. However, my"--he pulled himself up and coughed in a consequential way--"myfinancial agent has arranged for a loan, repayable upon the King'sdeath. This liqueur isn't good for either of us, Charlie. We'reboth getting monstrous stout. "

"I can't get any exercise for the gout, " said Fox. 

"I am blooded fifty ounces a month, but the more I take the more Imake. You wouldn't think, to look at us, Tregellis, that we coulddo what we have done. We've had some days and nights together, Charlie!"

Fox smiled and shook his head. 

"You remember how we posted to Newmarket before the races. We tooka public coach, Tregellis, clapped the postillions into the rumble, and jumped on to their places. Charlie rode the leader and I thewheeler. One fellow wouldn't let us through his turnpike, andCharlie hopped off and had his coat off in a minute. The fellowthought he had to do with a fighting man, and soon cleared the wayfor us. "

"By the way, sir, speaking of fighting men, I give a supper to theFancy at the Waggon and Horses on Friday next, " said my uncle. "Ifyou should chance to be in town, they would think it a great honourif you should condescend to look in upon us. "

"I've not seen a fight since I saw Tom Tyne, the tailor, kill Earlfourteen years ago. I swore off then, and you know me as a man ofmy word, Tregellis. Of course, I've been at the ringside incog. Many a time, but never as the Prince of Wales. "

"We should be vastly honoured if you would come incog. To oursupper, sir. "

"Well, well, Sherry, make a note of it. We'll be at Carlton Houseon Friday. The Prince can't come, you know, Tregellis, but youmight reserve a chair for the Earl of Chester. "

"Sir, we shall be proud to see the Earl of Chester there, " said myuncle. 

"By the way, Tregellis, " said Fox, "there's some rumour about yourhaving a sporting bet with Sir Lothian Hume. What's the truth ofit?"

"Only a small matter of a couple of thous to a thou, he giving theodds. He has a fancy to this new Gloucester man, Crab Wilson, andI'm to find a man to beat him. Anything under twenty or overthirty-five, at or about thirteen stone. "

"You take Charlie Fox's advice, then, " cried the Prince. "When itcomes to handicapping a horse, playing a hand, matching a cock, orpicking a man, he has the best judgment in England. Now, Charlie, whom have we upon the list who can beat Crab Wilson, of Gloucester?"

I was amazed at the interest and knowledge which all these greatpeople showed about the ring, for they not only had the deeds of theprincipal men of the time--Belcher, Mendoza, Jackson, or Dutch Sam--at their fingers' ends, but there was no fighting man so obscurethat they did not know the details of his deeds and prospects. Theold ones and then the young were discussed--their weight, theirgameness, their hitting power, and their constitution. Who, as hesaw Sheridan and Fox eagerly arguing as to whether Caleb Baldwin, the Westminster costermonger, could hold his own with Isaac Bittoon, the Jew, would have guessed that the one was the deepest politicalphilosopher in Europe, and that the other would be remembered as theauthor of the wittiest comedy and of the finest speech of hisgeneration?

The name of Champion Harrison came very early into the discussion, and Fox, who had a high idea of Crab Wilson's powers, was of opinionthat my uncle's only chance lay in the veteran taking the fieldagain. "He may be slow on his pins, but he fights with his head, and he hits like the kick of a horse. When he finished Black Barukthe man flew across the outer ring as well as the inner, and fellamong the spectators. If he isn't absolutely stale, Tregellis, heis your best chance. "

My uncle shrugged his shoulders. 

"If poor Avon were here we might do something with him, for he wasHarrison's first patron, and the man was devoted to him. But hiswife is too strong for me. And now, sir, I must leave you, for Ihave had the misfortune to-day to lose the best valet in England, and I must make inquiry for him. I thank your Royal Highness foryour kindness in receiving my nephew in so gracious a fashion. "

"Till Friday, then, " said the Prince, holding out his hand. "I haveto go up to town in any case, for there is a poor devil of an EastIndia Company's officer who has written to me in his distress. If Ican raise a few hundreds, I shall see him and set things right forhim. Now, Mr. Stone, you have your life before you, and I hope itwill be one which your uncle may be proud of. You will honour theKing, and show respect for the Constitution, Mr. Stone. And, harkye, you will avoid debt, and bear in mind that your honour is asacred thing. "

So I carried away a last impression of his sensual, good-humouredface, his high cravat, and his broad leather thighs. Again wepassed the strange rooms, the gilded monsters, and the gorgeousfootmen, and it was with relief that I found myself out in the openair once more, with the broad blue sea in front of us, and the freshevening breeze upon our faces. 

CHAPTER VIII--THE BRIGHTON ROAD

My uncle and I were up betimes next morning, but he was much out oftemper, for no news had been heard of his valet Ambrose. He hadindeed become like one of those ants of which I have read, who areso accustomed to be fed by smaller ants that when they are left tothemselves they die of hunger. It was only by the aid of a man whomthe landlord procured, and of Fox's valet, who had been sentexpressly across, that his toilet was at last performed. 

"I must win this race, nephew, " said he, when he had finishedbreakfast; "I can't afford to be beat. Look out of the window andsee if the Lades are there. "

"I see a red four-in-hand in the square, and there is a crowd roundit. Yes, I see the lady upon the box seat. "

"Is our tandem out?"

"It is at the door. "

"Come, then, and you shall have such a drive as you never hadbefore. "

He stood at the door pulling on his long brown driving-gauntlets andgiving his orders to the ostlers. 

"Every ounce will tell, " said he. "We'll leave that dinner-basketbehind. And you can keep my dog for me, Coppinger. You know himand understand him. Let him have his warm milk and curacoa the sameas usual. Whoa, my darlings, you'll have your fill of it before youreach Westminster Bridge. "

"Shall I put in the toilet-case?" asked the landlord. I saw thestruggle upon my uncle's face, but he was true to his principles. 

"Put it under the seat--the front seat, " said he. "Nephew, you mustkeep your weight as far forward as possible. Can you do anything ona yard of tin? Well, if you can't, we'll leave the trumpet. Bucklethat girth up, Thomas. Have you greased the hubs, as I told you?Well, jump up, nephew, and we'll see them off. "

Quite a crowd had gathered in the Old Square: men and women, dark-coated tradesmen, bucks from the Prince's Court, and officers fromHove, all in a buzz of excitement; for Sir John Lade and my unclewere two of the most famous whips of the time, and a match betweenthem was a thing to talk of for many a long day. 

"The Prince will be sorry to have missed the start, " said my uncle. "He doesn't show before midday. Ah, Jack, good morning! Yourservant, madam! It's a fine day for a little bit of waggoning. "

As our tandem came alongside of the four-in-hand, with the two bonnybay mares gleaming like shot-silk in the sunshine, a murmur ofadmiration rose from the crowd. My uncle, in his fawn-coloureddriving-coat, with all his harness of the same tint, looked theideal of a Corinthian whip; while Sir John Lade, with his many-capedcoat, his white hat, and his rough, weather-beaten face, might havetaken his seat with a line of professionals upon any ale-house benchwithout any one being able to pick him out as one of the wealthiestlandowners in England. It was an age of eccentricity, but he hadcarried his peculiarities to a length which surprised even the out-and-outers by marrying the sweetheart of a famous highwayman whenthe gallows had come between her and her lover. She was perched byhis side, looking very smart in a flowered bonnet and greytravelling-dress, while in front of them the four splendid coal-black horses, with a flickering touch of gold upon their powerful, well-curved quarters, were pawing the dust in their eagerness to beoff. 

"It's a hundred that you don't see us before Westminster with aquarter of an hour's start, " said Sir John. 

"I'll take you another hundred that we pass you, " answered my uncle. 

"Very good. Time's up. Good-bye!" He gave a tchk of the tongue, shook his reins, saluted with his whip; in true coachman's style, and away he went, taking the curve out of the square in aworkmanlike fashion that fetched a cheer from the crowd. We heardthe dwindling roar of the wheels upon the cobblestones until theydied away in the distance. 

It seemed one of the longest quarters of an hour that I had everknown before the first stroke of nine boomed from the parish clock. For my part, I was fidgeting in my seat in my impatience, but myuncle's calm, pale face and large blue eyes were as tranquil anddemure as those of the most unconcerned spectator. He was keenly onthe alert, however, and it seemed to me that the stroke of the clockand the thong of his whip fell together--not in a blow, but in asharp snap over the leader, which sent us flying with a jingle and arattle upon our fifty miles' journey. I heard a roar from behindus, saw the gliding lines of windows with staring faces and wavinghandkerchiefs, and then we were off the stones and on to the goodwhite road which curved away in front of us, with the sweep of thegreen downs upon either side. 

I had been provided with shillings that the turnpike-gate might notstop us, but my uncle reined in the mares and took them at a veryeasy trot up all the heavy stretch which ends in Clayton Hill. Helet them go then, and we flashed through Friar's Oak and across St. John's Common without more than catching a glimpse of the yellowcottage which contained all that I loved best. Never have Itravelled at such a pace, and never have I felt such a sense ofexhilaration from the rush of keen upland air upon our faces, andfrom the sight of those two glorious creatures stretched to theirutmost, with the roar of their hoofs and the rattle of our wheels asthe light curricle bounded and swayed behind them. 

"It's a long four miles uphill from here to Hand Cross, " said myuncle, as we flew through Cuckfield. "I must ease them a bit, for Icannot afford to break the hearts of my cattle. They have the rightblood in them, and they would gallop until they dropped if I werebrute enough to let them. Stand up on the seat, nephew, and see ifyou can get a glimpse of them. "

I stood up, steadying myself upon my uncle's shoulder, but though Icould see for a mile, or perhaps a quarter more, there was not asign of the four-in-hand. 

"If he has sprung his cattle up all these hills they'll be spent erethey see Croydon, " said he. 

"They have four to two, " said I. 

"J'en suis bien sur. Sir John's black strain makes a good, honestcreature, but not fliers like these. There lies Cuckfield Place, where the towers are, yonder. Get your weight right forward on thesplashboard now that we are going uphill, nephew. Look at theaction of that leader: did ever you see anything more easy and morebeautiful?"

We were taking the hill at a quiet trot, but even so, we made thecarrier, walking in the shadow of his huge, broad-wheeled, canvas-covered waggon, stare at us in amazement. Close to Hand Cross wepassed the Royal Brighton stage, which had left at half-past seven, dragging heavily up the slope, and its passengers, toiling alongthrough the dust behind, gave us a cheer as we whirled by. At HandCross we caught a glimpse of the old landlord, hurrying out with hisgin and his gingerbread; but the dip of the ground was downwardsnow, and away we flew as fast as eight gallant hoofs could take us. 

"Do you drive, nephew?"

"Very little, sir. "

"There is no driving on the Brighton Road. "

"How is that, sir?"

"Too good a road, nephew. I have only to give them their heads, andthey will race me into Westminster. It wasn't always so. When Iwas a very young man one might learn to handle his twenty yards oftape here as well as elsewhere. There's not much really goodwaggoning now south of Leicestershire. Show me a man who can hit'em and hold 'em on a Yorkshire dale-side, and that's the man whocomes from the right school. "

We had raced over Crawley Down and into the broad main street ofCrawley village, flying between two country waggons in a way whichshowed me that even now a driver might do something on the road. With every turn I peered ahead, looking for our opponents, but myuncle seemed to concern himself very little about them, and occupiedhimself in giving me advice, mixed up with so many phrases of thecraft, that it was all that I could do to follow him. 

"Keep a finger for each, or you will have your reins clubbed, " saidhe. "As to the whip, the less fanning the better if you havewilling cattle; but when you want to put a little life into a coach, see that you get your thong on to the one that needs it, and don'tlet it fly round after you've hit. I've seen a driver warm up theoff-side passenger on the roof behind him every time he tried to cuthis off-side wheeler. I believe that is their dust over yonder. "

A long stretch of road lay before us, barred with the shadows ofwayside trees. Through the green fields a lazy blue river wasdrawing itself slowly along, passing under a bridge in front of us. Beyond was a young fir plantation, and over its olive line thererose a white whirl which drifted swiftly, like a cloud-scud on abreezy day. 

"Yes, yes, it's they!" cried my uncle. "No one else would travel asfast. Come, nephew, we're half-way when we cross the mole atKimberham Bridge, and we've done it in two hours and fourteenminutes. The Prince drove to Carlton House with a three tandem infour hours and a half. The first half is the worst half, and wemight cut his time if all goes well. We should make up between thisand Reigate. "

And we flew. The bay mares seemed to know what that white puff infront of us signified, and they stretched themselves likegreyhounds. We passed a phaeton and pair London-bound, and we leftit behind as if it had been standing still. Trees, gates, cottageswent dancing by. We heard the folks shouting from the fields, underthe impression that we were a runaway. Faster and faster yet theyraced, the hoofs rattling like castanets, the yellow manes flying, the wheels buzzing, and every joint and rivet creaking and groaning, while the curricle swung and swayed until I found myself clutchingto the side-rail. My uncle eased them and glanced at his watch aswe saw the grey tiles and dingy red houses of Reigate in the hollowbeneath us. 

"We did the last six well under twenty minutes, " said he. "We'vetime in hand now, and a little water at the Red Lion will do them noharm. Red four-in-hand passed, ostler?"

"Just gone, sir. "

"Going hard?"

"Galloping full split, sir! Took the wheel off a butcher's cart atthe corner of the High Street, and was out o' sight before thebutcher's boy could see what had hurt him. "

Z-z-z-z-ack! went the long thong, and away we flew once more. Itwas market day at Redhill, and the road was crowded with carts ofproduce, droves of bullocks, and farmers' gigs. It was a sight tosee how my uncle threaded his way amongst them all. Through themarket-place we dashed amidst the shouting of men, the screaming ofwomen, and the scuttling of poultry, and then we were out in thecountry again, with the long, steep incline of the Redhill Roadbefore us. My uncle waved his whip in the air with a shrill view-halloa. 

There was the dust-cloud rolling up the hill in front of us, andthrough it we had a shadowy peep of the backs of our opponents, witha flash of brass-work and a gleam of scarlet. 

"There's half the game won, nephew. Now we must pass them. Harkforrard, my beauties! By George, if Kitty isn't foundered!"

The leader had suddenly gone dead lame. In an instant we were bothout of the curricle and on our knees beside her. It was but astone, wedged between frog and shoe in the off fore-foot, but it wasa minute or two before we could wrench it out. When we had regainedour places the Lades were round the curve of the hill and out ofsight. 

"Bad luck!" growled my uncle. "But they can't get away from us!"For the first time he touched the mares up, for he had but crackedthe whip over their heads before. "If we catch them in the next fewmiles we can spare them for the rest of the way. "

They were beginning to show signs of exhaustion. Their breath camequick and hoarse, and their beautiful coats were matted withmoisture. At the top of the hill, however, they settled down intotheir swing once more. 

"Where on earth have they got to?" cried my uncle. "Can you makethem out on the road, nephew?"

We could see a long white ribbon of it, all dotted with carts andwaggons coming from Croydon to Redhill, but there was no sign of thebig red four-in-hand. 

"There they are! Stole away! Stole away!" he cried, wheeling themares round into a side road which struck to the right out of thatwhich we had travelled. "There they are, nephew! On the brow ofthe hill!"

Sure enough, on the rise of a curve upon our right the four-in-handhad appeared, the horses stretched to the utmost. Our mares laidthemselves out gallantly, and the distance between us began slowlyto decrease. I found that I could see the black band upon SirJohn's white hat, then that I could count the folds of his cape;finally, that I could see the pretty features of his wife as shelooked back at us. 

"We're on the side road to Godstone and Warlingham, " said my uncle. "I suppose he thought that he could make better time by getting outof the way of the market carts. But we've got the deuce of a hillto come down. You'll see some fun, nephew, or I am mistaken. "

As he spoke I suddenly saw the wheels of the four-in-hand disappear, then the body of it, and then the two figures upon the box, assuddenly and abruptly as if it had bumped down the first three stepsof some gigantic stairs. An instant later we had reached the samespot, and there was the road beneath us, steep and narrow, windingin long curves into the valley. The four-in-hand was swishing downit as hard as the horses could gallop. 

"Thought so!" cried my uncle. "If he doesn't brake, why should I?Now, my darlings, one good spurt, and we'll show them the colour ofour tailboard. "

We shot over the brow and flew madly down the hill with the greatred coach roaring and thundering before us. Already we were in herdust, so that we could see nothing but the dim scarlet blur in theheart of it, rocking and rolling, with its outline hardening atevery stride. We could hear the crack of the whip in front of us, and the shrill voice of Lady Lade as she screamed to the horses. Myuncle was very quiet, but when I glanced up at him I saw that hislips were set and his eyes shining, with just a little flush uponeach pale cheek. There was no need to urge on the mares, for theywere already flying at a pace which could neither be stopped norcontrolled. Our leader's head came abreast of the off hind wheel, then of the off front one--then for a hundred yards we did not gainan inch, and then with a spurt the bay leader was neck to neck withthe black wheeler, and our fore wheel within an inch of their hindone. 

"Dusty work!" said my uncle, quietly. 

"Fan 'em, Jack! Fan 'em!" shrieked the lady. 

He sprang up and lashed at his horses. 

"Look out, Tregellis!" he shouted. "There's a damnation spillcoming for somebody. "

We had got fairly abreast of them now, the rumps of the horsesexactly a-line and the fore wheels whizzing together. There was notsix inches to spare in the breadth of the road, and every instant Iexpected to feel the jar of a locking wheel. But now, as we cameout from the dust, we could see what was ahead, and my unclewhistled between his teeth at the sight. 

Two hundred yards or so in front of us there was a bridge, withwooden posts and rails upon either side. The road narrowed down atthe point, so that it was obvious that the two carriages abreastcould not possibly get over. One must give way to the other. Already our wheels were abreast of their wheelers. 

"I lead!" shouted my uncle. "You must pull them, Lade!"

"Not I!" he roared. 

"No, by George!" shrieked her ladyship. "Fan 'em, Jack; keep onfanning 'em!"

It seemed to me that we were all going to eternity together. But myuncle did the only thing that could have saved us. By a desperateeffort we might just clear the coach before reaching the mouth ofthe bridge. He sprang up, and lashed right and left at the mares, who, maddened by the unaccustomed pain, hurled themselves on in afrenzy. Down we thundered together, all shouting, I believe, at thetop of our voices in the madness of the moment; but still we weredrawing steadily away, and we were almost clear of the leaders whenwe flew on to the bridge. I glanced back at the coach, and I sawLady Lade, with her savage little white teeth clenched together, throw herself forward and tug with both hands at the off-side reins. 

"Jam them, Jack!" she cried. "Jam the--before they can pass. "

Had she done it an instant sooner we should have crashed against thewood-work, carried it away, and been hurled into the deep gullybelow. As it was, it was not the powerful haunch of the blackleader which caught our wheel, but the forequarter, which had notweight enough to turn us from our course. I saw a red wet seam gapesuddenly through the black hair, and next instant we were flyingalone down the road, whilst the four-in-hand had halted, and SirJohn and his lady were down in the road together tending to thewounded horse. 

"Easy now, my beauties!" cried my uncle, settling down into his seatagain, and looking back over his shoulder. "I could not havebelieved that Sir John Lade would have been guilty of such a trickas pulling that leader across. I do not permit a mauvaiseplaisanterie of that sort. He shall hear from me to-night. "

"It was the lady, " said I. 

My uncle's brow cleared, and he began to laugh. 

"It was little Letty, was it?" said he. "I might have known it. There's a touch of the late lamented Sixteen-string Jack about thetrick. Well, it is only messages of another kind that I send to alady, so we'll just drive on our way, nephew, and thank our starsthat we bring whole bones over the Thames. "

We stopped at the Greyhound, at Croydon, where the two good littlemares were sponged and petted and fed, after which, at an easierpace, we made our way through Norbury and Streatham. At last thefields grew fewer and the walls longer. The outlying villas closedup thicker and thicker, until their shoulders met, and we weredriving between a double line of houses with garish shops at thecorners, and such a stream of traffic as I had never seen, roaringdown the centre. Then suddenly we were on a broad bridge with adark coffee-brown river flowing sulkily beneath it, and bluff-bowedbarges drifting down upon its bosom. To right and left stretched abroken, irregular line of many-coloured houses winding along eitherbank as far as I could see. 

"That's the House of Parliament, nephew, " said my uncle, pointingwith his whip, "and the black towers are Westminster Abbey. How do, your Grace? How do? That's the Duke of Norfolk--the stout man inblue upon the swish-tailed mare. Now we are in Whitehall. There'sthe Treasury on the left, and the Horse Guards, and the Admiralty, where the stone dolphins are carved above the gate. "

I had the idea, which a country-bred lad brings up with him, thatLondon was merely a wilderness of houses, but I was astonished nowto see the green slopes and the lovely spring trees showing between. 

"Yes, those are the Privy Gardens, " said my uncle, "and there is thewindow out of which Charles took his last step on to the scaffold. You wouldn't think the mares had come fifty miles, would you? Seehow les petites cheries step out for the credit of their master. Look at the barouche, with the sharp-featured man peeping out of thewindow. That's Pitt, going down to the House. We are coming intoPall Mall now, and this great building on the left is Carlton House, the Prince's Palace. There's St. James's, the big, dingy place withthe clock, and the two red-coated sentries before it. And here'sthe famous street of the same name, nephew, which is the very centreof the world, and here's Jermyn Street opening out of it, andfinally, here's my own little box, and we are well under the fivehours from Brighton Old Square. "

CHAPTER IX--WATIER'S

My uncle's house in Jermyn Street was quite a small one--five roomsand an attic. "A man-cook and a cottage, " he said, "are all that awise man requires. " On the other hand, it was furnished with theneatness and taste which belonged to his character, so that his mostluxurious friends found something in the tiny rooms which made themdiscontented with their own sumptuous mansions. Even the attic, which had been converted into my bedroom, was the most perfectlittle bijou attic that could possibly be imagined. Beautiful andvaluable knick-knacks filled every corner of every apartment, andthe house had become a perfect miniature museum which would havedelighted a virtuoso. My uncle explained the presence of all thesepretty things with a shrug of his shoulders and a wave of his hands. "They are des petites cadeaux, " said he, "but it would be anindiscretion for me to say more. "

We found a note from Ambrose waiting for us which increased ratherthan explained the mystery of his disappearance. 

"My dear Sir Charles Tregellis, " it ran, "it will ever be a subjectof regret to me that the force of circumstances should havecompelled me to leave your service in so abrupt a fashion, butsomething occurred during our journey from Friar's Oak to Brightonwhich left me without any possible alternative. I trust, however, that my absence may prove to be but a temporary one. The isinglassrecipe for the shirt-fronts is in the strong-box at Drummond'sBank. --Yours obediently, AMBROSE. "

"Well, I suppose I must fill his place as best I can, " said myuncle, moodily. "But how on earth could something have occurred tomake him leave me at a time when we were going full-trot down hillin my curricle? I shall never find his match again either forchocolate or cravats. Je suis desole! But now, nephew, we mustsend to Weston and have you fitted up. It is not for a gentleman togo to a shop, but for the shop to come to the gentleman. Until youhave your clothes you must remain en retraite. "

The measuring was a most solemn and serious function, though it wasnothing to the trying-on two days later, when my uncle stood by inan agony of apprehension as each garment was adjusted, he and Westonarguing over every seam and lapel and skirt until I was dizzy withturning round in front of them. Then, just as I had hoped that allwas settled, in came young Mr. Brummell, who promised to be an evengreater exquisite than my uncle, and the whole matter had to bethrashed out between them. He was a good-sized man, this Brummell, with a long, fair face, light brown hair, and slight sandy side-whiskers. His manner was languid, his voice drawling, and while heeclipsed my uncle in the extravagance of his speech, he had not theair of manliness and decision which underlay all my kinsman'saffectations. 

"Why, George, " cried my uncle, "I thought you were with yourregiment. "

"I've sent in my papers, " drawled the other. 

"I thought it would come to that. "

"Yes. The Tenth was ordered to Manchester, and they could hardlyexpect me to go to a place like that. Besides, I found the majormonstrous rude. "

"How was that?"

"He expected me to know about his absurd drill, Tregellis, and I hadother things to think of, as you may suppose. I had no difficultyin taking my right place on parade, for there was a trooper with ared nose on a flea-bitten grey, and I had observed that my post wasalways immediately in front of him. This saved a great deal oftrouble. The other day, however, when I came on parade, I gallopedup one line and down the other, but the deuce a glimpse could I getof that long nose of his! Then, just as I was at my wits' end, Icaught sight of him, alone at one side; so I formed up in front. Itseems he had been put there to keep the ground, and the major so farforgot himself as to say that I knew nothing of my duties. "

My uncle laughed, and Brummell looked me up and down with his large, intolerant eyes. 

"These will do very passably, " said he. "Buff and blue are alwaysvery gentlemanlike. But a sprigged waistcoat would have beenbetter. "

"I think not, " said my uncle, warmly. 

"My dear Tregellis, you are infallible upon a cravat, but you mustallow me the right of my own judgment upon vests. I like it vastlyas it stands, but a touch of red sprig would give it the finish thatit needs. "

They argued with many examples and analogies for a good ten minutes, revolving round me at the same time with their heads on one side andtheir glasses to their eyes. It was a relief to me when they atlast agreed upon a compromise. 

"You must not let anything I have said shake your faith in SirCharles's judgment, Mr. Stone, " said Brummell, very earnestly. 

I assured him that I should not. 

"If you were my nephew, I should expect you to follow my taste. Butyou will cut a very good figure as it is. I had a young cousin whocame up to town last year with a recommendation to my care. But hewould take no advice. At the end of the second week I met himcoming down St. James's Street in a snuff-coloured coat cut by acountry tailor. He bowed to me. Of course I knew what was due tomyself. I looked all round him, and there was an end to his careerin town. You are from the country, Mr. Stone?"

"From Sussex, sir. "

"Sussex! Why, that is where I send my washing to. There is anexcellent clear-starcher living near Hayward's Heath. I send myshirts two at a time, for if you send more it excites the woman anddiverts her attention. I cannot abide anything but country washing. But I should be vastly sorry to have to live there. What can a manfind to do?"

"You don't hunt, George?"

"When I do, it's a woman. But surely you don't go to hounds, Charles?"

"I was out with the Belvoir last winter. "

"The Belvoir! Did you hear how I smoked Rutland? The story hasbeen in the clubs this month past. I bet him that my bag wouldweigh more than his. He got three and a half brace, but I shot hisliver-coloured pointer, so he had to pay. But as to hunting, whatamusement can there be in flying about among a crowd of greasy, galloping farmers? Every man to his own taste, but Brookes's windowby day and a snug corner of the macao table at Watier's by night, give me all I want for mind and body. You heard how I pluckedMontague the brewer!"

"I have been out of town. "

"I had eight thousand from him at a sitting. 'I shall drink yourbeer in future, Mr. Brewer, ' said I. 'Every blackguard in Londondoes, ' said he. It was monstrous impolite of him, but some peoplecannot lose with grace. Well, I am going down to Clarges Street topay Jew King a little of my interest. Are you bound that way?Well, good-bye, then! I'll see you and your young friend at theclub or in the Mall, no doubt, " and he sauntered off upon his way. 

"That young man is destined to take my place, " said my uncle, gravely, when Brummell had departed. "He is quite young and of nodescent, but he has made his way by his cool effrontery, his naturaltaste, and his extravagance of speech. There is no man who can beimpolite in so polished a fashion. He has a half-smile, and a wayof raising his eyebrows, for which he will be shot one of thesemornings. Already his opinion is quoted in the clubs as a rival tomy own. Well, every man has his day, and when I am convinced thatmine is past, St. James's Street shall know me no more, for it isnot in my nature to be second to any man. But now, nephew, in thatbuff and blue suit you may pass anywhere; so, if you please, we willstep into my vis-a-vis, and I will show you something of the town. "

How can I describe all that we saw and all that we did upon thatlovely spring day? To me it was as if I had been wafted to a fairyworld, and my uncle might have been some benevolent enchanter in ahigh-collared, long-tailed coat, who was guiding me about in it. Heshowed me the West-end streets, with the bright carriages and thegaily dressed ladies and sombre-clad men, all crossing and hurryingand recrossing like an ants' nest when you turn it over with astick. Never had I formed a conception of such endless banks ofhouses, and such a ceaseless stream of life flowing between. Thenwe passed down the Strand, where the crowd was thicker than ever, and even penetrated beyond Temple Bar and into the City, though myuncle begged me not to mention it, for he would not wish it to begenerally known. There I saw the Exchange and the Bank and Lloyd'sCoffee House, with the brown-coated, sharp-faced merchants and thehurrying clerks, the huge horses and the busy draymen. It was avery different world this from that which we had left in the West--aworld of energy and of strength, where there was no place for thelistless and the idle. Young as I was, I knew that it was here, inthe forest of merchant shipping, in the bales which swung up to thewarehouse windows, in the loaded waggons which roared over thecobblestones, that the power of Britain lay. Here, in the City ofLondon, was the taproot from which Empire and wealth and so manyother fine leaves had sprouted. Fashion and speech and manners maychange, but the spirit of enterprise within that square mile or twoof land must not change, for when it withers all that has grown fromit must wither also. 

We lunched at Stephen's, the fashionable inn in Bond Street, where Isaw a line of tilburys and saddle-horses, which stretched from thedoor to the further end of the street. And thence we went to theMail in St. James's Park, and thence to Brookes's, the great Whigclub, and thence again to Watier's, where the men of fashion used togamble. Everywhere I met the same sort of men, with their stifffigures and small waists, all showing the utmost deference to myuncle, and for his sake an easy tolerance of me. The talk wasalways such as I had already heard at the Pavilion: talk ofpolitics, talk of the King's health, talk of the Prince'sextravagance, of the expected renewal of war, of horse-racing, andof the ring. I saw, too, that eccentricity was, as my uncle hadtold me, the fashion; and if the folk upon the Continent look uponus even to this day as being a nation of lunatics, it is no doubt atradition handed down from the time when the only travellers whomthey were likely to see were drawn from the class which I was nowmeeting. 

It was an age of heroism and of folly. On the one hand soldiers, sailors, and statesmen of the quality of Pitt, Nelson, andafterwards Wellington, had been forced to the front by the imminentmenace of Buonaparte. We were great in arms, and were soon also tobe great in literature, for Scott and Byron were in their day thestrongest forces in Europe. On the other hand, a touch of madness, real or assumed, was a passport through doors which were closed towisdom and to virtue. The man who could enter a drawing-roomwalking upon his hands, the man who had filed his teeth that hemight whistle like a coachman, the man who always spoke his thoughtsaloud and so kept his guests in a quiver of apprehension, these werethe people who found it easy to come to the front in London society. Nor could the heroism and the folly be kept apart, for there werefew who could quite escape the contagion of the times. In an agewhen the Premier was a heavy drinker, the Leader of the Opposition alibertine, and the Prince of Wales a combination of the two, it washard to know where to look for a man whose private and publiccharacters were equally lofty. At the same time, with all itsfaults it was a STRONG age, and you will be fortunate if in yourtime the country produces five such names as Pitt, Fox, Scott, Nelson, and Wellington. 

It was in Watier's that night, seated by my uncle on one of the redvelvet settees at the side of the room, that I had pointed out to mesome of those singular characters whose fame and eccentricities areeven now not wholly forgotten in the world. The long, many-pillaredroom, with its mirrors and chandeliers, was crowded with full-blooded, loud-voiced men-about-town, all in the same dark eveningdress with white silk stockings, cambric shirt-fronts, and little, flat chapeau-bras under their arms. 

"The acid-faced old gentleman with the thin legs is the Marquis ofQueensberry, " said my uncle. "His chaise was driven nineteen milesin an hour in a match against the Count Taafe, and he sent a messagefifty miles in thirty minutes by throwing it from hand to hand in acricket-ball. The man he is talking to is Sir Charles Bunbury, ofthe Jockey Club, who had the Prince warned off the Heath atNewmarket on account of the in-and-out riding of Sam Chifney, hisjockey. There's Captain Barclay going up to them now. He knowsmore about training than any man alive, and he has walked ninetymiles in twenty-one hours. You have only to look at his calves tosee that Nature built him for it. There's another walker there, theman with a flowered vest standing near the fireplace. That is BuckWhalley, who walked to Jerusalem in a long blue coat, top-boots, andbuckskins. "

"Why did he do that, sir?" I asked, in astonishment. 

My uncle shrugged his shoulders. 

"It was his humour, " said he. "He walked into society through it, and that was better worth reaching than Jerusalem. There's LordPetersham, the man with the beaky nose. He always rises at six inthe evening, and he has laid down the finest cellar of snuff inEurope. It was he who ordered his valet to put half a dozen ofsherry by his bed and call him the day after to-morrow. He'stalking to Lord Panmure, who can take his six bottles of claret andargue with a bishop after it. The lean man with the weak knees isGeneral Scott who lives upon toast and water and has won 200, 000pounds at whist. He is talking to young Lord Blandford who gave1800 pounds for a Boccaccio the other day. Evening, Dudley!"

"Evening, Tregellis!" An elderly, vacant-looking man had stoppedbefore us and was looking me up and down. 

"Some young cub Charlie Tregellis has caught in the country, " hemurmured. "He doesn't look as if he would be much credit to him. Been out of town, Tregellis?"

"For a few days. "

"Hem!" said the man, transferring his sleepy gaze to my uncle. "He's looking pretty bad. He'll be going into the country feetforemost some of these days if he doesn't pull up!" He nodded, andpassed on. 

"You mustn't look so mortified, nephew, " said my uncle, smiling. "That's old Lord Dudley, and he has a trick of thinking aloud. People used to be offended, but they take no notice of him now. Itwas only last week, when he was dining at Lord Elgin's, that heapologized to the company for the shocking bad cooking. He thoughthe was at his own table, you see. It gives him a place of his ownin society. That's Lord Harewood he has fastened on to now. Harewood's peculiarity is to mimic the Prince in everything. Oneday the Prince hid his queue behind the collar of his coat, soHarewood cut his off, thinking that they were going out of fashion. Here's Lumley, the ugly man. 'L'homme laid' they called him inParis. The other one is Lord Foley--they call him No. 11, onaccount of his thin legs. "

"There is Mr. Brummell, sir, " said I. 

"Yes, he'll come to us presently. That young man has certainly afuture before him. Do you observe the way in which he looks roundthe room from under his drooping eyelids, as though it were acondescension that he should have entered it? Small conceits areintolerable, but when they are pushed to the uttermost they becomerespectable. How do, George?"

"Have you heard about Vereker Merton?" asked Brummell, strolling upwith one or two other exquisites at his heels. "He has run awaywith his father's woman-cook, and actually married her. "

"What did Lord Merton do?"

"He congratulated him warmly, and confessed that he had alwaysunderrated his intelligence. He is to live with the young couple, and make a handsome allowance on condition that the bride sticks toher old duties. By the way, there was a rumour that you were aboutto marry, Tregellis. "

"I think not, " answered my uncle. "It would be a mistake tooverwhelm one by attentions which are a pleasure to many. "

"My view, exactly, and very neatly expressed, " cried Brummell. "Isit fair to break a dozen hearts in order to intoxicate one withrapture? I'm off to the Continent next week. "

"Bailiffs?" asked one of his companions. 

"Too bad, Pierrepoint. No, no; it is pleasure and instructioncombined. Besides, it is necessary to go to Paris for your littlethings, and if there is a chance of the war breaking out again, itwould be well to lay in a supply. "

"Quite right, " said my uncle, who seemed to have made up his mind tooutdo Brummell in extravagance. "I used to get my sulphur-colouredgloves from the Palais Royal. When the war broke out in '93 I wascut off from them for nine years. Had it not been for a luggerwhich I specially hired to smuggle them, I might have been reducedto English tan. "

"The English are excellent at a flat-iron or a kitchen poker, butanything more delicate is beyond them. "

"Our tailors are good, " cried my uncle, "but our stuffs lack tasteand variety. The war has made us more rococo than ever. It has cutus off from travel, and there is nothing to match travel forexpanding the mind. Last year, for example, I came upon some newwaist-coating in the Square of San Marco, at Venice. It was yellow, with the prettiest little twill of pink running through it. Howcould I have seen it had I not travelled? I brought it back withme, and for a time it was all the rage. "

"The Prince took it up. "

"Yes, he usually follows my lead. We dressed so alike last yearthat we were frequently mistaken for each other. It tells againstme, but so it was. He often complains that things do not look aswell upon him as upon me, but how can I make the obvious reply? Bythe way, George, I did not see you at the Marchioness of Dover'sball. "

"Yes, I was there, and lingered for a quarter of an hour or so. Iam surprised that you did not see me. I did not go past thedoorway, however, for undue preference gives rise to jealousy. "

"I went early, " said my uncle, "for I had heard that there were tobe some tolerable debutantes. It always pleases me vastly when I amable to pass a compliment to any of them. It has happened, but notoften, for I keep to my own standard. "

So they talked, these singular men, and I, looking from one to theother, could not imagine how they could help bursting out a-laughingin each other's faces. But, on the contrary, their conversation wasvery grave, and filled out with many little bows, and opening andshutting of snuff-boxes, and flickings of laced handkerchiefs. Quite a crowd had gathered silently around, and I could see that thetalk had been regarded as a contest between two men who were lookedupon as rival arbiters of fashion. It was finished by the Marquisof Queensberry passing his arm through Brummell's and leading himoff, while my uncle threw out his laced cambric shirt-front and shothis ruffles as if he were well satisfied with his share in theencounter. It is seven-and-forty years since I looked upon thatcircle of dandies, and where, now, are their dainty little hats, their wonderful waistcoats, and their boots, in which one couldarrange one's cravat? They lived strange lives, these men, and theydied strange deaths--some by their own hands, some as beggars, somein a debtor's gaol, some, like the most brilliant of them all, in amadhouse in a foreign land. 

"There is the card-room, Rodney, " said my uncle, as we passed anopen door on our way out. Glancing in, I saw a line of little greenbaize tables with small groups of men sitting round, while at oneside was a longer one, from which there came a continuous murmur ofvoices. "You may lose what you like in there, save only your nerveor your temper, " my uncle continued. "Ah, Sir Lothian, I trust thatthe luck was with you?"

A tall, thin man, with a hard, austere face, had stepped out of theopen doorway. His heavily thatched eyebrows covered quick, furtivegrey eyes, and his gaunt features were hollowed at the cheek andtemple like water-grooved flint. He was dressed entirely in black, and I noticed that his shoulders swayed a little as if he had beendrinking. 

"Lost like the deuce, " he snapped. 

"Dice?"

"No, whist. "

"You couldn't get very hard hit over that. "

"Couldn't you?" he snarled. "Play a hundred a trick and a thousandon the rub, losing steadily for five hours, and see what you thinkof it. "

My uncle was evidently struck by the haggard look upon the other'sface. 

"I hope it's not very bad, " he said. 

"Bad enough. It won't bear talking about. By the way, Tregellis, have you got your man for this fight yet?"

"No. "

"You seem to be hanging in the wind a long time. It's play or pay, you know. I shall claim forfeit if you don't come to scratch. "

"If you will name your day I shall produce my man, Sir Lothian, "said my uncle, coldly. 

"This day four weeks, if you like. "

"Very good. The 18th of May. "

"I hope to have changed my name by then!"

"How is that?" asked my uncle, in surprise. 

"It is just possible that I may be Lord Avon. "

"What, you have had some news?" cried my uncle, and I noticed atremor in his voice. 

"I've had my agent over at Monte Video, and he believes he has proofthat Avon died there. Anyhow, it is absurd to suppose that becausea murderer chooses to fly from justice--"

"I won't have you use that word, Sir Lothian, " cried my uncle, sharply. 

"You were there as I was. You know that he was a murderer. "

"I tell you that you shall not say so. "

Sir Lothian's fierce little grey eyes had to lower themselves beforethe imperious anger which shone in my uncle's. 

"Well, to let that point pass, it is monstrous to suppose that thetitle and the estates can remain hung up in this way for ever. I'mthe heir, Tregellis, and I'm going to have my rights. "

"I am, as you are aware, Lord Avon's dearest friend, " said my uncle, sternly. "His disappearance has not affected my love for him, anduntil his fate is finally ascertained, I shall exert myself to seethat HIS rights also are respected. "

"His rights would be a long drop and a cracked spine, " Sir Lothiananswered, and then, changing his manner suddenly, he laid his handupon my uncle's sleeve. 

"Come, come, Tregellis, I was his friend as well as you, " said he. "But we cannot alter the facts, and it is rather late in the day forus to fall out over them. Your invitation holds good for Fridaynight?"

"Certainly. "

"I shall bring Crab Wilson with me, and finally arrange theconditions of our little wager. "

"Very good, Sir Lothian: I shall hope to see you. " They bowed, andmy uncle stood a little time looking after him as he made his wayamidst the crowd. 

"A good sportsman, nephew, " said he. "A bold rider, the bestpistol-shot in England, but . . . A dangerous man!"

CHAPTER X--THE MEN OF THE RING

It was at the end of my first week in London that my uncle gave asupper to the fancy, as was usual for gentlemen of that time if theywished to figure before the public as Corinthians and patrons ofsport. He had invited not only the chief fighting-men of the day, but also those men of fashion who were most interested in the ring:Mr. Fletcher Reid, Lord Say and Sele, Sir Lothian Hume, Sir JohnLade, Colonel Montgomery, Sir Thomas Apreece, the Hon. BerkeleyCraven, and many more. The rumour that the Prince was to be presenthad already spread through the clubs, and invitations were eagerlysought after. 

The Waggon and Horses was a well-known sporting house, with an oldprize-fighter for landlord. And the arrangements were as primitiveas the most Bohemian could wish. It was one of the many curiousfashions which have now died out, that men who were blase fromluxury and high living seemed to find a fresh piquancy in life bydescending to the lowest resorts, so that the night-houses andgambling-dens in Covent Garden or the Haymarket often gatheredillustrious company under their smoke-blackened ceilings. It was achange for them to turn their backs upon the cooking of Weltjie andof Ude, or the chambertin of old Q. , and to dine upon a porter-housesteak washed down by a pint of ale from a pewter pot. 

A rough crowd had assembled in the street to see the fighting-men goin, and my uncle warned me to look to my pockets as we pushed ourway through it. Within was a large room with faded red curtains, asanded floor, and walls which were covered with prints of pugilistsand race-horses. Brown liquor-stained tables were dotted about init, and round one of these half a dozen formidable-looking men wereseated, while one, the roughest of all, was perched upon the tableitself, swinging his legs to and fro. A tray of small glasses andpewter mugs stood beside them. 

"The boys were thirsty, sir, so I brought up some ale and someliptrap, " whispered the landlord; "I thought you would have noobjection, sir. "

"Quite right, Bob! How are you all? How are you, Maddox? How areyou, Baldwin? Ah, Belcher, I am very glad to see you. "

The fighting-men rose and took their hats off, except the fellow onthe table, who continued to swing his legs and to look my uncle verycoolly in the face. 

"How are you, Berks?"

"Pretty tidy. 'Ow are you?"

"Say 'sir' when you speak to a genelman, " said Belcher, and with asudden tilt of the table he sent Berks flying almost into my uncle'sarms. 

"See now, Jem, none o' that!" said Berks, sulkily. 

"I'll learn you manners, Joe, which is more than ever your fatherdid. You're not drinkin' black-jack in a boozin' ken, but you aremeetin' noble, slap-up Corinthians, and it's for you to behave assuch. "

"I've always been reckoned a genelman-like sort of man, " said Berks, thickly, "but if so be as I've said or done what I 'adn't ought to--"

"There, there, Berks, that's all right!" cried my uncle, only tooanxious to smooth things over and to prevent a quarrel at the outsetof the evening. "Here are some more of our friends. How are you, Apreece? How are you, Colonel? Well, Jackson, you are lookingvastly better. Good evening, Lade. I trust Lady Lade was none theworse for our pleasant drive. Ah, Mendoza, you look fit enough tothrow your hat over the ropes this instant. Sir Lothian, I am gladto see you. You will find some old friends here. "

Amid the stream of Corinthians and fighting-men who were thronginginto the room I had caught a glimpse of the sturdy figure and broad, good-humoured face of Champion Harrison. The sight of him was likea whiff of South Down air coming into that low-roofed, oil-smellingroom, and I ran forward to shake him by the hand. 

"Why, Master Rodney--or I should say Mr. Stone, I suppose--you'vechanged out of all knowledge. I can't hardly believe that it wasreally you that used to come down to blow the bellows when Boy Jimand I were at the anvil. Well, you are fine, to be sure!"

"What's the news of Friar's Oak?" I asked eagerly. 

"Your father was down to chat with me, Master Rodney, and he tellsme that the war is going to break out again, and that he hopes tosee you here in London before many days are past; for he is comingup to see Lord Nelson and to make inquiry about a ship. Your motheris well, and I saw her in church on Sunday. "

"And Boy Jim?"

Champion Harrison's good-humoured face clouded over. 

"He'd set his heart very much on comin' here to-night, but therewere reasons why I didn't wish him to, and so there's a shadowbetwixt us. It's the first that ever was, and I feel it, MasterRodney. Between ourselves, I have very good reason to wish him tostay with me, and I am sure that, with his high spirit and hisideas, he would never settle down again after once he had a taste o'London. I left him behind me with enough work to keep him busyuntil I get back to him. "

A tall and beautifully proportioned man, very elegantly dressed, wasstrolling towards us. He stared in surprise and held out his handto my companion. 

"Why, Jack Harrison!" he cried. "This is a resurrection. Where inthe world did you come from?"

"Glad to see you, Jackson, " said my companion. "You look as welland as young as ever. "

"Thank you, yes. I resigned the belt when I could get no one tofight me for it, and I took to teaching. "

"I'm doing smith's work down Sussex way. "

"I've often wondered why you never had a shy at my belt. I tell youhonestly, between man and man, I'm very glad you didn't. "

"Well, it's real good of you to say that, Jackson. I might ha' doneit, perhaps, but the old woman was against it. She's been a goodwife to me and I can't go against her. But I feel a bit lonesomehere, for these boys are since my time. "

"You could do some of them over now, " said Jackson, feeling myfriend's upper arm. "No better bit of stuff was ever seen in atwenty-four foot ring. It would be a rare treat to see you takesome of these young ones on. Won't you let me spring you on them?"

Harrison's eyes glistened at the idea, but he shook his head. 

"It won't do, Jackson. My old woman holds my promise. That'sBelcher, ain't it--the good lookin' young chap with the flash coat?"

"Yes, that's Jem. You've not seen him! He's a jewel. "

"So I've heard. Who's the youngster beside him? He looks a tidychap. "

"That's a new man from the West. Crab Wilson's his name. "

Harrison looked at him with interest. "I've heard of him, " said he. "They are getting a match on for him, ain't they?"

"Yes. Sir Lothian Hume, the thin-faced gentleman over yonder, hasbacked him against Sir Charles Tregellis's man. We're to hear aboutthe match to-night, I understand. Jem Belcher thinks great thingsof Crab Wilson. There's Belcher's young brother, Tom. He's lookingout for a match, too. They say he's quicker than Jem with themufflers, but he can't hit as hard. I was speaking of your brother, Jem. "

"The young 'un will make his way, " said Belcher, who had come acrossto us. "He's more a sparrer than a fighter just at present, butwhen his gristle sets he'll take on anything on the list. Bristol'sas full o' young fightin'-men now as a bin is of bottles. We've gottwo more comin' up--Gully and Pearce--who'll make you London millingcoves wish they was back in the west country again. "

"Here's the Prince, " said Jackson, as a hum and bustle rose from thedoor. 

I saw George come bustling in, with a good-humoured smile upon hiscomely face. My uncle welcomed him, and led some of the Corinthiansup to be presented. 

"We'll have trouble, gov'nor, " said Belcher to Jackson. "Here's JoeBerks drinkin' gin out of a mug, and you know what a swine he iswhen he's drunk. "

"You must put a stopper on 'im gov'nor, " said several of the otherprize-fighters. "'E ain't what you'd call a charmer when 'e'ssober, but there's no standing 'im when 'e's fresh. "

Jackson, on account of his prowess and of the tact which hepossessed, had been chosen as general regulator of the whole prize-fighting body, by whom he was usually alluded to as the Commander-in-Chief. He and Belcher went across now to the table upon whichBerks was still perched. The ruffian's face was already flushed, and his eyes heavy and bloodshot. 

"You must keep yourself in hand to-night, Berks, " said Jackson. "The Prince is here, and--"

"I never set eyes on 'im yet, " cried Berks, lurching off the table. "Where is 'e, gov'nor? Tell 'im Joe Berks would like to do 'isselfproud by shakin' 'im by the 'and. "

"No, you don't, Joe, " said Jackson, laying his hand upon Berks'schest, as he tried to push his way through the crowd. "You've gotto keep your place, Joe, or we'll put you where you can make all thenoise you like. "

"Where's that, gov'nor?"

"Into the street, through the window. We're going to have apeaceful evening, as Jem Belcher and I will show you if you get upto any of your Whitechapel games. "

"No 'arm, gov'nor, " grumbled Berks. "I'm sure I've always 'ad thename of bein' a very genelman-like man. "

"So I've always said, Joe Berks, and mind you prove yourself such. But the supper is ready for us, and there's the Prince and Lord Solegoing in. Two and two, lads, and don't forget whose company you arein. "

The supper was laid in a large room, with Union Jacks and mottoeshung thickly upon the walls. The tables were arranged in threesides of a square, my uncle occupying the centre of the principalone, with the Prince upon his right and Lord Sele upon his left. Byhis wise precaution the seats had been allotted beforehand, so thatthe gentlemen might be scattered among the professionals and no riskrun of two enemies finding themselves together, or a man who hadbeen recently beaten falling into the company of his conqueror. Formy own part, I had Champion Harrison upon one side of me and astout, florid-faced man upon the other, who whispered to me that hewas "Bill Warr, landlord of the One Tun public-house, of JermynStreet, and one of the gamest men upon the list. "

"It's my flesh that's beat me, sir, " said he. "It creeps over meamazin' fast. I should fight at thirteen-eight, and 'ere I amnearly seventeen. It's the business that does it, what with loflin'about behind the bar all day, and bein' afraid to refuse a wet forfear of offendin' a customer. It's been the ruin of many a goodfightin'-man before me. "

"You should take to my job, " said Harrison. "I'm a smith by trade, and I've not put on half a stone in fifteen years. "

"Some take to one thing and some to another, but the most of us tryto 'ave a bar-parlour of our own. There's Will Wood, that I beat inforty rounds in the thick of a snowstorm down Navestock way, 'edrives a 'ackney. Young Firby, the ruffian, 'e's a waiter now. Dick 'Umphries sells coals--'e was always of a genelmanlydisposition. George Ingleston is a brewer's drayman. We all findour own cribs. But there's one thing you are saved by livin' in thecountry, and that is 'avin' the young Corinthians and bloods abouttown smackin' you eternally in the face. "

This was the last inconvenience which I should have expected afamous prize-fighter to be subjected to, but several bull-facedfellows at the other side of the table nodded their concurrence. 

"You're right, Bill, " said one of them. "There's no one has hadmore trouble with them than I have. In they come of an evenin' intomy bar, with the wine in their heads. 'Are you Tom Owen thebruiser?' says one o' them. 'At your service, sir, ' says I. 'Takethat, then, ' says he, and it's a clip on the nose, or a backhandedslap across the chops as likely as not. Then they can brag alltheir lives that they had hit Tom Owen. "

"D'you draw their cork in return?" asked Harrison. 

"I argey it out with them. I say to them, 'Now, gents, fightin' ismy profession, and I don't fight for love any more than a doctordoctors for love, or a butcher gives away a loin chop. Put up asmall purse, master, and I'll do you over and proud. But don'texpect that you're goin' to come here and get glutted by a middle-weight champion for nothing. "

"That's my way too, Tom, " said my burly neighbour. "If they putdown a guinea on the counter--which they do if they 'ave beendrinkin' very 'eavy--I give them what I think is about a guinea'sworth and take the money. "

"But if they don't?"

"Why, then, it's a common assault, d'ye see, against the body of 'isMajesty's liege, William Warr, and I 'as 'em before the beak nextmornin', and it's a week or twenty shillin's. "

Meanwhile the supper was in full swing--one of those solid anduncompromising meals which prevailed in the days of yourgrandfathers, and which may explain to some of you why you never seteyes upon that relative. 

Great rounds of beef, saddles of mutton, smoking tongues, veal andham pies, turkeys and chickens, and geese, with every variety ofvegetables, and a succession of fiery cherries and heavy ales werethe main staple of the feast. It was the same meal and the samecooking as their Norse or German ancestors might have sat down tofourteen centuries before, and, indeed, as I looked through thesteam of the dishes at the lines of fierce and rugged faces, and themighty shoulders which rounded themselves over the board, I couldhave imagined myself at one of those old-world carousals of which Ihad read, where the savage company gnawed the joints to the bone, and then, with murderous horseplay, hurled the remains at theirprisoners. Here and there the pale, aquiline features of a sportingCorinthian recalled rather the Norman type, but in the main thesestolid, heavy-jowled faces, belonging to men whose whole life was abattle, were the nearest suggestion which we have had in moderntimes of those fierce pirates and rovers from whose loins we havesprung. 

And yet, as I looked carefully from man to man in the line whichfaced me, I could see that the English, although they were ten toone, had not the game entirely to themselves, but that other raceshad shown that they could produce fighting-men worthy to rank withthe best. 

There were, it is true, no finer or braver men in the room thanJackson and Jem Belcher, the one with his magnificent figure, hissmall waist and Herculean shoulders; the other as graceful as an oldGrecian statue, with a head whose beauty many a sculptor had wishedto copy, and with those long, delicate lines in shoulder and loinsand limbs, which gave him the litheness and activity of a panther. Already, as I looked at him, it seemed to me that there was a shadowof tragedy upon his face, a forecast of the day then but a fewmonths distant when a blow from a racquet ball darkened the sight ofone eye for ever. Had he stopped there, with his unbeaten careerbehind him, then indeed the evening of his life might have been asglorious as its dawn. But his proud heart could not permit histitle to be torn from him without a struggle. If even now you canread how the gallant fellow, unable with his one eye to judge hisdistances, fought for thirty-five minutes against his young andformidable opponent, and how, in the bitterness of defeat, he washeard only to express his sorrow for a friend who had backed himwith all he possessed, and if you are not touched by the story theremust be something wanting in you which should go to the making of aman. 

But if there were no men at the tables who could have held their ownagainst Jackson or Jem Belcher, there were others of a differentrace and type who had qualities which made them dangerous bruisers. A little way down the room I saw the black face and woolly head ofBill Richmond, in a purple-and-gold footman's livery--destined to bethe predecessor of Molineaux, Sutton, and all that line of blackboxers who have shown that the muscular power and insensibility topain which distinguish the African give him a peculiar advantage inthe sports of the ring. He could boast also of the higher honour ofhaving been the first born American to win laurels in the Britishring. There also I saw the keen features of Dada Mendoza, the Jew, just retired from active work, and leaving behind him a reputationfor elegance and perfect science which has, to this day, never beenexceeded. The worst fault that the critics could find with him wasthat there was a want of power in his blows--a remark whichcertainly could not have been made about his neighbour, whose longface, curved nose, and dark, flashing eyes proclaimed him as amember of the same ancient race. This was the formidable Dutch Sam, who fought at nine stone six, and yet possessed such hitting powers, that his admirers, in after years, were willing to back him againstthe fourteen-stone Tom Cribb, if each were strapped a-straddle to abench. Half a dozen other sallow Hebrew faces showed howenergetically the Jews of Houndsditch and Whitechapel had taken tothe sport of the land of their adoption, and that in this, as inmore serious fields of human effort, they could hold their own withthe best. 

It was my neighbour Warr who very good-humouredly pointed out to meall these celebrities, the echoes of whose fame had been wafted downeven to our little Sussex village. 

"There's Andrew Gamble, the Irish champion, " said he. "It was 'ethat beat Noah James, the Guardsman, and was afterwards nearlykilled by Jem Belcher, in the 'ollow of Wimbledon Common byAbbershaw's gibbet. The two that are next 'im are Irish also, JackO'Donnell and Bill Ryan. When you get a good Irishman you can'tbetter 'em, but they're dreadful 'asty. That little cove with theleery face is Caleb Baldwin the Coster, 'im that they call the Prideof Westminster. 'E's but five foot seven, and nine stone five, but'e's got the 'eart of a giant. 'E's never been beat, and thereain't a man within a stone of 'im that could beat 'im, except onlyDutch Sam. There's George Maddox, too, another o' the same breed, and as good a man as ever pulled his coat off. The genelmanly manthat eats with a fork, 'im what looks like a Corinthian, only thatthe bridge of 'is nose ain't quite as it ought to be, that's Dick'Umphries, the same that was cock of the middle-weights untilMendoza cut his comb for 'im. You see the other with the grey 'eadand the scars on his face?"

"Why, it's old Tom Faulkner the cricketer!" cried Harrison, following the line of Bill Warr's stubby forefinger. "He's thefastest bowler in the Midlands, and at his best there weren't manyboxers in England that could stand up against him. "

"You're right there, Jack 'Arrison. 'E was one of the three whocame up to fight when the best men of Birmingham challenged the bestmen of London. 'E's an evergreen, is Tom. Why, he was turned five-and-fifty when he challenged and beat, after fifty minutes of it, Jack Thornhill, who was tough enough to take it out of many ayoungster. It's better to give odds in weight than in years. "

"Youth will be served, " said a crooning voice from the other side ofthe table. "Ay, masters, youth will be served. "

The man who had spoken was the most extraordinary of all the manycurious figures in the room. He was very, very old, so old that hewas past all comparison, and no one by looking at his mummy skin andfish-like eyes could give a guess at his years. A few scanty greyhairs still hung about his yellow scalp. As to his features, theywere scarcely human in their disfigurement, for the deep wrinklesand pouchings of extreme age had been added to a face which hadalways been grotesquely ugly, and had been crushed and smashed inaddition by many a blow. I had noticed this creature at thebeginning of the meal, leaning his chest against the edge of thetable as if its support was a welcome one, and feebly picking at thefood which was placed before him. Gradually, however, as hisneighbours plied him with drink, his shoulders grew squarer, hisback stiffened, his eyes brightened, and he looked about him, withan air of surprise at first, as if he had no clear recollection ofhow he came there, and afterwards with an expression of deepeninginterest, as he listened, with his ear scooped up in his hand, tothe conversation around him. 

"That's old Buckhorse, " whispered Champion Harrison. "He was justthe same as that when I joined the ring twenty years ago. Time waswhen he was the terror of London. "

"'E was so, " said Bill Warr. "'E would fight like a stag, and 'ewas that 'ard that 'e would let any swell knock 'im down for 'alf-a-crown. 'E 'ad no face to spoil, d'ye see, for 'e was always theugliest man in England. But 'e's been on the shelf now for nearsixty years, and it cost 'im many a beatin' before 'e couldunderstand that 'is strength was slippin' away from 'im. "

"Youth will be served, masters, " droned the old man, shaking hishead miserably. 

"Fill up 'is glass, " said Warr. "'Ere, Tom, give old Buckhorse asup o' liptrap. Warm his 'eart for 'im. "

The old man poured a glass of neat gin down his shrivelled throat, and the effect upon him was extraordinary. A light glimmered ineach of his dull eyes, a tinge of colour came into his wax-likecheeks, and, opening his toothless mouth, he suddenly emitted apeculiar, bell-like, and most musical cry. A hoarse roar oflaughter from all the company answered it, and flushed faces cranedover each other to catch a glimpse of the veteran. 

"There's Buckhorse!" they cried. "Buckhorse is comin' round again. "

"You can laugh if you vill, masters, " he cried, in his Lewkner Lanedialect, holding up his two thin, vein-covered hands. "It von't belong that you'll be able to see my crooks vich 'ave been on Figg'sconk, and on Jack Broughton's, and on 'Arry Gray's, and many anothergood fightin' man that was millin' for a livin' before your fatherscould eat pap. "

The company laughed again, and encouraged the old man by half-derisive and half-affectionate cries. 

"Let 'em 'ave it, Buckhorse! Give it 'em straight! Tell us how themillin' coves did it in your time. "

The old gladiator looked round him in great contempt. 

"Vy, from vot I see, " he cried, in his high, broken treble, "there'ssome on you that ain't fit to flick a fly from a joint o' meat. You'd make werry good ladies' maids, the most of you, but you tookthe wrong turnin' ven you came into the ring. "

"Give 'im a wipe over the mouth, " said a hoarse voice. 

"Joe Berks, " said Jackson, "I'd save the hangman the job of breakingyour neck if His Royal Highness wasn't in the room. "

"That's as it may be, guv'nor, " said the half-drunken ruffian, staggering to his feet. "If I've said anything wot isn'tgenelmanlike--"

"Sit down, Berks!" cried my uncle, with such a tone of command thatthe fellow collapsed into his chair. 

"Vy, vitch of you would look Tom Slack in the face?" piped the oldfellow; "or Jack Broughton?--him vot told the old Dook of Cumberlandthat all he vanted vas to fight the King o' Proosia's guard, day byday, year in, year out, until 'e 'ad worked out the whole regimentof 'em--and the smallest of 'em six foot long. There's not more'n afew of you could 'it a dint in a pat o' butter, and if you gets asmack or two it's all over vith you. Vich among you could get upagain after such a vipe as the Eytalian Gondoleery cove gave to BobVittaker?"

"What was that, Buckhorse?" cried several voices. 

"'E came over 'ere from voreign parts, and 'e was so broad 'e 'ad tocome edgewise through the doors. 'E 'ad so, upon my davy! 'E wasthat strong that wherever 'e 'it the bone had got to go; and when'e'd cracked a jaw or two it looked as though nothing in the countrycould stan' against him. So the King 'e sent one of his genelmendown to Figg and he said to him: ''Ere's a cove vot cracks a boneevery time 'e lets vly, and it'll be little credit to the Lunnonboys if they lets 'im get avay vithout a vacking. ' So Figg he ups, and he says, 'I do not know, master, but he may break one of 'iscountrymen's jawbones vid 'is vist, but I'll bring 'im a Cockney ladand 'e shall not be able to break 'is jawbone with a sledge 'ammer. 'I was with Figg in Slaughter's coffee-'ouse, as then vas, ven 'esays this to the King's genelman, and I goes so, I does!" Again heemitted the curious bell-like cry, and again the Corinthians and thefighting-men laughed and applauded him. 

"His Royal Highness--that is, the Earl of Chester--would be glad tohear the end of your story, Buckhorse, " said my uncle, to whom thePrince had been whispering. 

"Vell, your R'yal 'Ighness, it vas like this. Ven the day cameround, all the volk came to Figg's Amphitheatre, the same that vosin Tottenham Court, an' Bob Vittaker 'e vos there, and the EytalianGondoleery cove 'e vas there, and all the purlitest, genteelestcrowd that ever vos, twenty thousand of 'em, all sittin' with their'eads like purtaties on a barrer, banked right up round the stage, and me there to pick up Bob, d'ye see, and Jack Figg 'imself justfor fair play to do vot was right by the cove from voreign parts. They vas packed all round, the folks was, but down through themiddle of 'em was a passage just so as the gentry could come throughto their seats, and the stage it vas of wood, as the custom thenvas, and a man's 'eight above the 'eads of the people. Vell, then, ven Bob was put up opposite this great Eytalian man I says 'Slap 'imin the vind, Bob, ' 'cos I could see vid 'alf an eye that he vas aspuffy as a cheesecake; so Bob he goes in, and as he comes thevorriner let 'im 'ave it amazin' on the conk. I 'eard the thump ofit, and I kind o' velt somethin' vistle past me, but ven I lookedthere vas the Eytalian a feelin' of 'is muscles in the middle o' thestage, and as to Bob, there vern't no sign' of 'im at all no more'nif 'e'd never been. "

His audience was riveted by the old prize-fighter's story. "Well, "cried a dozen voices, "what then, Buckhorse: 'ad 'e swallowed 'im, or what?"

"Yell, boys, that vas vat _I_ wondered, when sudden I seed two legsa-stickin' up out o' the crowd a long vay off, just like these twovingers, d'ye see, and I knewed they vas Bob's legs, seein' that 'e'ad kind o' yellow small clothes vid blue ribbons--vich blue vas 'iscolour--at the knee. So they up-ended 'im, they did, an' they madea lane for 'im an' cheered 'im to give 'im 'eart, though 'e neverlacked for that. At virst 'e vas that dazed that 'e didn't know if'e vas in church or in 'Orsemonger Gaol; but ven I'd bit 'is twoears 'e shook 'isself together. 'Ve'll try it again, Buck, ' says'e. 'The mark!' says I. And 'e vinked all that vas left o' oneeye. So the Eytalian 'e lets swing again, but Bob 'e jumps insidean' 'e lets 'im 'ave it plumb square on the meat safe as 'ard asever the Lord would let 'im put it in. "

"Well? Well?"

"Vell, the Eytalian 'e got a touch of the gurgles, an' 'e shut'imself right up like a two-foot rule. Then 'e pulled 'imselfstraight, an' 'e gave the most awful Glory Allelujah screech as everyou 'eard. Off 'e jumps from the stage an' down the passage as 'ardas 'is 'oofs would carry 'im. Up jumps the 'ole crowd, and after'im as 'ard as they could move for laughin'. They vas lyin' in thekennel three deep all down Tottenham Court road wid their 'ands totheir sides just vit to break themselves in two. Vell, ve chased'im down 'Olburn, an' down Fleet Street, an' down Cheapside, an'past the 'Change, and on all the vay to Voppin' an' we only catched'im in the shippin' office, vere 'e vas askin' 'ow soon 'e could geta passage to voreign parts. "

There was much laughter and clapping of glasses upon the table atthe conclusion of old Buckhorse's story, and I saw the Prince ofWales hand something to the waiter, who brought it round and slippedit into the skinny hand of the veteran, who spat upon it beforethrusting it into his pocket. The table had in the meanwhile beencleared, and was now studded with bottles and glasses, while longclay pipes and tobacco-boxes were handed round. My uncle neversmoked, thinking that the habit might darken his teeth, but many ofthe Corinthians, and the Prince amongst the first of them, set theexample of lighting up. All restraint had been done away with, andthe prize-fighters, flushed with wine, roared across the tables toeach other, or shouted their greetings to friends at the other endof the room. The amateurs, falling into the humour of theircompany, were hardly less noisy, and loudly debated the merits ofthe different men, criticizing their styles of fighting before theirfaces, and making bets upon the results of future matches. 

In the midst of the uproar there was an imperative rap upon thetable, and my uncle rose to speak. As he stood with his pale, calmface and fine figure, I had never seen him to greater advantage, forhe seemed, with all his elegance, to have a quiet air of dominationamongst these fierce fellows, like a huntsman walking carelesslythrough a springing and yapping pack. He expressed his pleasure atseeing so many good sportsmen under one roof, and acknowledged thehonour which had been done both to his guests and himself by thepresence there that night of the illustrious personage whom heshould refer to as the Earl of Chester. He was sorry that theseason prevented him from placing game upon the table, but there wasso much sitting round it that it would perhaps be hardly missed(cheers and laughter). The sports of the ring had, in his opinion, tended to that contempt of pain and of danger which had contributedso much in the past to the safety of the country, and which might, if what he heard was true, be very quickly needed once more. If anenemy landed upon our shores it was then that, with our small army, we should be forced to fall back upon native valour trained intohardihood by the practice and contemplation of manly sports. Intime of peace also the rules of the ring had been of service inenforcing the principles of fair play, and in turning public opinionagainst that use of the knife or of the boot which was so common inforeign countries. He begged, therefore, to drink "Success to theFancy, " coupled with the name of John Jackson, who might stand as atype of all that was most admirable in British boxing. 

Jackson having replied with a readiness which many a public manmight have envied, my uncle rose once more. 

"We are here to-night, " said he, "not only to celebrate the pastglories of the prize ring, but also to arrange some sport for thefuture. It should be easy, now that backers and fighting men aregathered together under one roof, to come to terms with each other. I have myself set an example by making a match with Sir LothianHume, the terms of which will be communicated to you by thatgentleman. "

Sir Lothian rose with a paper in his hand. 

"The terms, your Royal Highness and gentlemen, are briefly these, "said he. "My man, Crab Wilson, of Gloucester, having never yetfought a prize battle, is prepared to meet, upon May the 18th ofthis year, any man of any weight who may be selected by Sir CharlesTregellis. Sir Charles Tregellis's selection is limited to menbelow twenty or above thirty-five years of age, so as to excludeBelcher and the other candidates for championship honours. Thestakes are two thousand pounds against a thousand, two hundred to bepaid by the winner to his man; play or pay. "

It was curious to see the intense gravity of them all, fighters andbackers, as they bent their brows and weighed the conditions of thematch. 

"I am informed, " said Sir John Lade, "that Crab Wilson's age istwenty-three, and that, although he has never fought a regular P. R. Battle, he has none the less fought within ropes for a stake on manyoccasions. "

"I've seen him half a dozen times at the least, " said Belcher. 

"It is precisely for that reason, Sir John, that I am laying odds oftwo to one in his favour. "

"May I ask, " said the Prince, "what the exact height and weight ofWilson may be?"

"Five foot eleven and thirteen-ten, your Royal Highness. "

"Long enough and heavy enough for anything on two legs, " saidJackson, and the professionals all murmured their assent. 

"Read the rules of the fight, Sir Lothian. "

"The battle to take place on Tuesday, May the 18th, at the hour often in the morning, at a spot to be afterwards named. The ring tobe twenty foot square. Neither to fall without a knock-down blow, subject to the decision of the umpires. Three umpires to be chosenupon the ground, namely, two in ordinary and one in reference. Doesthat meet your wishes, Sir Charles?"

My uncle bowed. 

"Have you anything to say, Wilson?"

The young pugilist, who had a curious, lanky figure, and a craggy, bony face, passed his fingers through his close-cropped hair. 

"If you please, zir, " said he, with a slight west-country burr, "atwenty-voot ring is too small for a thirteen-stone man. "

There was another murmur of professional agreement. 

"What would you have it, Wilson?"

"Vour-an'-twenty, Sir Lothian. "

"Have you any objection, Sir Charles?"

"Not the slightest. "

"Anything else, Wilson?"

"If you please, zir, I'd like to know whom I'm vighting with. "

"I understand that you have not publicly nominated your man, SirCharles?"

"I do not intend to do so until the very morning of the fight. Ibelieve I have that right within the terms of our wager. "

"Certainly, if you choose to exercise it. "

"I do so intend. And I should be vastly pleased if Mr. BerkeleyCraven will consent to be stake-holder. "

That gentleman having willingly given his consent, the finalformalities which led up to these humble tournaments were concluded. 

And then, as these full-blooded, powerful men became heated withtheir wine, angry eyes began to glare across the table, and amid thegrey swirls of tobacco-smoke the lamp-light gleamed upon the fierce, hawk-like Jews, and the flushed, savage Saxons. The old quarrel asto whether Jackson had or had not committed a foul by seizingMendoza by the hair on the occasion of their battle at Hornchurch, eight years before, came to the front once more. Dutch Sam hurled ashilling down upon the table, and offered to fight the Pride ofWestminster for it if he ventured to say that Mendoza had beenfairly beaten. Joe Berks, who had grown noisier and morequarrelsome as the evening went on, tried to clamber across thetable, with horrible blasphemies, to come to blows with an old Jewnamed Fighting Yussef, who had plunged into the discussion. Itneeded very little more to finish the supper by a general andferocious battle, and it was only the exertions of Jackson, Belcher, Harrison, and others of the cooler and steadier men, which saved usfrom a riot. 

And then, when at last this question was set aside, that of therival claims to championships at different weights came on in itsstead, and again angry words flew about and challenges were in theair. There was no exact limit between the light, middle, andheavyweights, and yet it would make a very great difference to thestanding of a boxer whether he should be regarded as the heaviest ofthe light-weights, or the lightest of the heavy-weights. Oneclaimed to be ten-stone champion, another was ready to take onanything at eleven, but would not run to twelve, which would havebrought the invincible Jem Belcher down upon him. Faulkner claimedto be champion of the seniors, and even old Buckhorse's curious callrang out above the tumult as he turned the whole company to laughterand good humour again by challenging anything over eighty and underseven stone. 

But in spite of gleams of sunshine, there was thunder in the air, and Champion Harrison had just whispered in my ear that he was quitesure that we should never get through the night without trouble, andwas advising me, if it got very bad, to take refuge under the table, when the landlord entered the room hurriedly and handed a note to myuncle. 

He read it, and then passed it to the Prince, who returned it withraised eyebrows and a gesture of surprise. Then my uncle rose withthe scrap of paper in his hand and a smile upon his lips. 

"Gentlemen, " said he, "there is a stranger waiting below who desiresa fight to a finish with the best men in the room. "

CHAPTER XI--THE FIGHT IN THE COACH-HOUSE

The curt announcement was followed by a moment of silent surprise, and then by a general shout of laughter. There might be argument asto who was champion at each weight; but there could be no questionthat all the champions of all the weights were seated round thetables. An audacious challenge which embraced them one and all, without regard to size or age, could hardly be regarded otherwisethan as a joke--but it was a joke which might be a dear one for thejoker. 

"Is this genuine?" asked my uncle. 

"Yes, Sir Charles, " answered the landlord; "the man is waitingbelow. "

"It's a kid!" cried several of the fighting-men. "Some cove is agammonin' us. "

"Don't you believe it, " answered the landlord. "He's a real slap-upCorinthian, by his dress; and he means what he says, or else I ain'tno judge of a man. "

My uncle whispered for a few moments with the Prince of Wales. "Well, gentlemen, " said he, at last, "the night is still young, andif any of you should wish to show the company a little of yourskill, you could not ask a better opportunity. "

"What weight is he, Bill?" asked Jem Belcher. 

"He's close on six foot, and I should put him well into the thirteenstones when he's buffed. "

"Heavy metal!" cried Jackson. "Who takes him on?"

They all wanted to, from nine-stone Dutch Sam upwards. The air wasfilled with their hoarse shouts and their arguments why each shouldbe the chosen one. To fight when they were flushed with wine andripe for mischief--above all, to fight before so select a companywith the Prince at the ringside, was a chance which did not oftencome in their way. Only Jackson, Belcher, Mendoza, and one or twoothers of the senior and more famous men remained silent, thinkingit beneath their dignity that they should condescend to so irregulara bye-battle. 

"Well, you can't all fight him, " remarked Jackson, when the babelhad died away. "It's for the chairman to choose. "

"Perhaps your Royal Highness has a preference, " said my uncle. 

"By Jove, I'd take him on myself if my position was different, " saidthe Prince, whose face was growing redder and his eyes more glazed. "You've seen me with the mufflers, Jackson! You know my form!"

"I've seen your Royal Highness, and I have felt your RoyalHighness, " said the courtly Jackson. 

"Perhaps Jem Belcher would give us an exhibition, " said my uncle. 

Belcher smiled and shook his handsome head. 

"There's my brother Tom here has never been blooded in London yet, sir. He might make a fairer match of it. "

"Give him over to me!" roared Joe Berks. "I've been waitin' for aturn all evenin', an' I'll fight any man that tries to take myplace. 'E's my meat, my masters. Leave 'im to me if you want tosee 'ow a calf's 'ead should be dressed. If you put Tom Belcherbefore me I'll fight Tom Belcher, an' for that matter I'll fight JemBelcher, or Bill Belcher, or any other Belcher that ever came out ofBristol. "

It was clear that Berks had got to the stage when he must fight someone. His heavy face was gorged and the veins stood out on his lowforehead, while his fierce grey eyes looked viciously from man toman in quest of a quarrel. His great red hands were bunched intohuge, gnarled fists, and he shook one of them menacingly as hisdrunken gaze swept round the tables. 

"I think you'll agree with me, gentlemen, that Joe Berks would beall the better for some fresh air and exercise, " said my uncle. "With the concurrence of His Royal Highness and of the company, Ishall select him as our champion on this occasion. "

"You do me proud, " cried the fellow, staggering to his feet andpulling at his coat. "If I don't glut him within the five minutes, may I never see Shropshire again. "

"Wait a bit, Berks, " cried several of the amateurs. "Where's itgoing to be held?"

"Where you like, masters. I'll fight him in a sawpit, or on theoutside of a coach if it please you. Put us toe to toe, and leavethe rest with me. "

"They can't fight here with all this litter, " said my uncle. "Whereshall it be?"

"'Pon my soul, Tregellis, " cried the Prince, "I think our unknownfriend might have a word to say upon that matter. He'll be vastlyill-used if you don't let him have his own choice of conditions. "

"You are right, sir. We must have him up. "

"That's easy enough, " said the landlord, "for here he comes throughthe doorway. "

I glanced round and had a side view of a tall and well-dressed youngman in a long, brown travelling coat and a black felt hat. The nextinstant he had turned and I had clutched with both my hands on toChampion Harrison's arm. 

"Harrison!" I gasped. "It's Boy Jim!"

And yet somehow the possibility and even the probability of it hadoccurred to me from the beginning, and I believe that it had toHarrison also, for I had noticed that his face grew grave andtroubled from the very moment that there was talk of the strangerbelow. Now, the instant that the buzz of surprise and admirationcaused by Jim's face and figure had died away, Harrison was on hisfeet, gesticulating in his excitement. 

"It's my nephew Jim, gentlemen, " he cried. "He's not twenty yet, and it's no doing of mine that he should be here. "

"Let him alone, Harrison, " cried Jackson. "He's big enough to takecare of himself. "

"This matter has gone rather far, " said my uncle. "I think, Harrison, that you are too good a sportsman to prevent your nephewfrom showing whether he takes after his uncle. "

"It's very different from me, " cried Harrison, in great distress. "But I'll tell you what I'll do, gentlemen. I never thought tostand up in a ring again, but I'll take on Joe Berks with pleasure, just to give a bit o' sport to this company. "

Boy Jim stepped across and laid his hand upon the prize-fighter'sshoulder. 

"It must be so, uncle, " I heard him whisper. "I am sorry to goagainst your wishes, but I have made up my mind, and I must carry itthrough. "

Harrison shrugged his huge shoulders. 

"Jim, Jim, you don't know what you are doing! But I've heard youspeak like that before, boy, and I know that it ends in your gettingyour way. "

"I trust, Harrison, that your opposition is withdrawn?" said myuncle. 

"Can I not take his place?"

"You would not have it said that I gave a challenge and let anothercarry it out?" whispered Jim. "This is my one chance. For Heaven'ssake don't stand in my way. "

The smith's broad and usually stolid face was all working with hisconflicting emotions. At last he banged his fist down upon thetable. 

"It's no fault of mine!" he cried. "It was to be and it is. Jim, boy, for the Lord's sake remember your distances, and stick to out-fightin' with a man that could give you a stone. "

"I was sure that Harrison would not stand in the way of sport, " saidmy uncle. "We are glad that you have stepped up, that we mightconsult you as to the arrangements for giving effect to your verysporting challenge. "

"Whom am I to fight?" asked Jim, looking round at the company, whowere now all upon their feet. 

"Young man, you'll know enough of who you 'ave to fight before youare through with it, " cried Berks, lurching heavily through thecrowd. "You'll need a friend to swear to you before I've finished, d'ye see?"

Jim looked at him with disgust in every line of his face. 

"Surely you are not going to set me to fight a drunken man!" saidhe. "Where is Jem Belcher?"

"My name, young man. "

"I should be glad to try you, if I may. "

"You must work up to me, my lad. You don't take a ladder at onejump, but you do it rung by rung. Show yourself to be a match forme, and I'll give you a turn. "

"I'm much obliged to you. "

"And I like the look of you, and wish you well, " said Belcher, holding out his hand. They were not unlike each other, either inface or figure, though the Bristol man was a few years the older, and a murmur of critical admiration was heard as the two tall, lithefigures, and keen, clean-cut faces were contrasted. 

"Have you any choice where the fight takes place?" asked my uncle. 

"I am in your hands, sir, " said Jim. 

"Why not go round to the Five's Court?" suggested Sir John Lade. 

"Yes, let us go to the Five's Court. "

But this did not at all suit the views of the landlord, who saw inthis lucky incident a chance of reaping a fresh harvest from hisspendthrift company. 

"If it please you, " he cried, "there is no need to go so far. Mycoach-house at the back of the yard is empty, and a better place fora mill you'll never find. "

There was a general shout in favour of the coach-house, and thosewho were nearest the door began to slip through, in the hope ofscouring the best places. My stout neighbour, Bill Warr, pulledHarrison to one side. 

"I'd stop it if I were you, " he whispered. 

"I would if I could. It's no wish of mine that he should fight. But there's no turning him when once his mind is made up. " All hisown fights put together had never reduced the pugilist to such astate of agitation. 

"Wait on 'im yourself, then, and chuck up the sponge when thingsbegin to go wrong. You know Joe Berks's record?"

"He's since my time. "

"Well, 'e's a terror, that's all. It's only Belcher that can master'im. You see the man for yourself, six foot, fourteen stone, andfull of the devil. Belcher's beat 'im twice, but the second time 'e'ad all 'is work to do it. "

"Well, well, we've got to go through with it. You've not seen BoyJim put his mawleys up, or maybe you'd think better of his chances. When he was short of sixteen he licked the Cock of the South Downs, and he's come on a long way since then. "

The company was swarming through the door and clattering down thestair, so we followed in the stream. A fine rain was falling, andthe yellow lights from the windows glistened upon the wetcobblestones of the yard. How welcome was that breath of sweet, damp air after the fetid atmosphere of the supper-room. At theother end of the yard was an open door sharply outlined by the gleamof lanterns within, and through this they poured, amateurs andfighting-men jostling each other in their eagerness to get to thefront. For my own part, being a smallish man, I should have seennothing had I not found an upturned bucket in a corner, upon which Iperched myself with the wall at my back. 

It was a large room with a wooden floor and an open square in theceiling, which was fringed with the heads of the ostlers and stableboys who were looking down from the harness-room above. A carriage-lamp was slung in each corner, and a very large stable-lantern hungfrom a rafter in the centre. A coil of rope had been brought in, and under the direction of Jackson four men had been stationed tohold it. 

"What space do you give them?" asked my uncle. 

"Twenty-four, as they are both big ones, sir. "

"Very good, and half-minutes between rounds, I suppose? I'll umpireif Sir Lothian Hume will do the same, and you can hold the watch andreferee, Jackson. "

With great speed and exactness every preparation was rapidly made bythese experienced men. Mendoza and Dutch Sam were commissioned toattend to Berks, while Belcher and Jack Harrison did the same forBoy Jim. Sponges, towels, and some brandy in a bladder were passedover the heads of the crowd for the use of the seconds. 

"Here's our man, " cried Belcher. "Come along, Berks, or we'll go tofetch you. "

Jim appeared in the ring stripped to the waist, with a colouredhandkerchief tied round his middle. A shout of admiration came fromthe spectators as they looked upon the fine lines of his figure, andI found myself roaring with the rest. His shoulders were slopingrather than bulky, and his chest was deep rather than broad, but themuscle was all in the right place, rippling down in long, low curvesfrom neck to shoulder, and from shoulder to elbow. His work at theanvil had developed his arms to their utmost, and his healthycountry living gave a sleek gloss to his ivory skin, which shone inthe lamplight. His expression was full of spirit and confidence, and he wore a grim sort of half-smile which I had seen many a timein our boyhood, and which meant, I knew, that his pride had set ironhard, and that his senses would fail him long before his courage. 

Joe Berks in the meanwhile had swaggered in and stood with foldedarms between his seconds in the opposite corner. His face had noneof the eager alertness of his opponent, and his skin, of a deadwhite, with heavy folds about the chest and ribs, showed, even to myinexperienced eyes, that he was not a man who should fight withouttraining. A life of toping and ease had left him flabby and gross. On the other hand, he was famous for his mettle and for his hittingpower, so that, even in the face of the advantages of youth andcondition, the betting was three to one in his favour. His heavy-jowled, clean-shaven face expressed ferocity as well as courage, andhe stood with his small, blood-shot eyes fixed viciously upon Jim, and his lumpy shoulders stooping a little forwards, like a fiercehound training on a leash. 

The hubbub of the betting had risen until it drowned all othersounds, men shouting their opinions from one side of the coach-houseto the other, and waving their hands to attract attention, or as asign that they had accepted a wager. Sir John Lade, standing justin front of me, was roaring out the odds against Jim, and layingthem freely with those who fancied the appearance of the unknown. 

"I've seen Berks fight, " said he to the Honourable Berkeley Craven. "No country hawbuck is going to knock out a man with such a record. "

"He may be a country hawbuck, " the other answered, "but I have beenreckoned a judge of anything either on two legs or four, and I tellyou, Sir John, that I never saw a man who looked better bred in mylife. Are you still laying against him?"

"Three to one. "

"Have you once in hundreds. "

"Very good, Craven! There they go! Berks! Berks! Bravo! Berks!Bravo! I think, Craven, that I shall trouble you for that hundred. "

The two men had stood up to each other, Jim as light upon his feetas a goat, with his left well out and his right thrown across thelower part of his chest, while Berks held both arms half extendedand his feet almost level, so that he might lead off with eitherside. For an instant they looked each other over, and then Berks, ducking his head and rushing in with a handover-hand style ofhitting, bored Jim down into his corner. It was a backward sliprather than a knockdown, but a thin trickle of blood was seen at thecorner of Jim's mouth. In an instant the seconds had seized theirmen and carried them back into their corners. 

"Do you mind doubling our bet?" said Berkeley Craven, who wascraning his neck to get a glimpse of Jim. 

"Four to one on Berks! Four to one on Berks!" cried the ringsiders. 

"The odds have gone up, you see. Will you have four to one inhundreds?"

"Very good, Sir John. "

"You seem to fancy him more for having been knocked down. "

"He was pushed down, but he stopped every blow, and I liked the lookon his face as he got up again. "

"Well, it's the old stager for me. Here they come again! He's gota pretty style, and he covers his points well, but it isn't the bestlooking that wins. "

They were at it again, and I was jumping about upon my bucket in myexcitement. It was evident that Berks meant to finish the battleoff-hand, whilst Jim, with two of the most experienced men inEngland to advise him, was quite aware that his correct tactics wereto allow the ruffian to expend his strength and wind in vain. Therewas something horrible in the ferocious energy of Berks's hitting, every blow fetching a grunt from him as he smashed it in, and aftereach I gazed at Jim, as I have gazed at a stranded vessel upon theSussex beach when wave after wave has roared over it, fearing eachtime that I should find it miserably mangled. But still thelamplight shone upon the lad's clear, alert face, upon his well-opened eyes and his firm-set mouth, while the blows were taken uponhis forearm or allowed, by a quick duck of the head, to whistle overhis shoulder. But Berks was artful as well as violent. Graduallyhe worked Jim back into an angle of the ropes from which there wasno escape, and then, when he had him fairly penned, he sprang uponhim like a tiger. What happened was so quick that I cannot set itssequence down in words, but I saw Jim make a quick stoop under theswinging arms, and at the same instant I heard a sharp, ringingsmack, and there was Jim dancing about in the middle of the ring, and Berks lying upon his side on the floor, with his hand to hiseye. 

How they roared! Prize-fighters, Corinthians, Prince, stable-boy, and landlord were all shouting at the top of their lungs. OldBuckhorse was skipping about on a box beside me, shrieking outcriticisms and advice in strange, obsolete ring-jargon, which no onecould understand. His dull eyes were shining, his parchment facewas quivering with excitement, and his strange musical call rang outabove all the hubbub. The two men were hurried to their corners, one second sponging them down and the other flapping a towel infront of their face; whilst they, with arms hanging down and legsextended, tried to draw all the air they could into their lungs inthe brief space allowed them. 

"Where's your country hawbuck now?" cried Craven, triumphantly. "Did ever you witness anything more masterly?"

"He's no Johnny Raw, certainly, " said Sir John, shaking his head. "What odds are you giving on Berks, Lord Sole?"

"Two to one. "

"I take you twice in hundreds. "

"Here's Sir John Lade hedging!" cried my uncle, smiling back at usover his shoulder. 

"Time!" said Jackson, and the two men sprang forward to the markagain. 

This round was a good deal shorter than that which had preceded it. Berks's orders evidently were to close at any cost, and so make useof his extra weight and strength before the superior condition ofhis antagonist could have time to tell. On the other hand, Jim, after his experience in the last round, was less disposed to makeany great exertion to keep him at arms' length. He led at Berks'shead, as he came rushing in, and missed him, receiving a severe bodyblow in return, which left the imprint of four angry knuckles abovehis ribs. As they closed Jim caught his opponent's bullet headunder his arm for an instant, and put a couple of half-arm blows in;but the prize-fighter pulled him over by his weight, and the twofell panting side by side upon the ground. Jim sprang up, however, and walked over to his corner, while Berks, distressed by hisevening's dissipation, leaned one arm upon Mendoza and the otherupon Dutch Sam as he made for his seat. 

"Bellows to mend!" cried Jem Belcher. "Where's the four to onenow?"

"Give us time to get the lid off our pepper-box, " said Mendoza. "Wemean to make a night of it. "

"Looks like it, " said Jack Harrison. "He's shut one of his eyesalready. Even money that my boy wins it!"

"How much?" asked several voices. 

"Two pound four and threepence, " cried Harrison, counting out allhis worldly wealth. 

"Time!" said Jackson once more. 

They were both at the mark in an instant, Jim as full of sprightlyconfidence as ever, and Berks with a fixed grin upon his bull-dogface and a most vicious gleam in the only eye which was of use tohim. His half-minute had not enabled him to recover his breath, andhis huge, hairy chest was rising and falling with a quick, loudpanting like a spent hound. "Go in, boy! Bustle him!" roaredHarrison and Belcher. "Get your wind, Joe; get your wind!" criedthe Jews. So now we had a reversal of tactics, for it was Jim whowent in to hit with all the vigour of his young strength andunimpaired energy, while it was the savage Berks who was paying hisdebt to Nature for the many injuries which he had done her. Hegasped, he gurgled, his face grew purple in his attempts to get hisbreath, while with his long left arm extended and his right thrownacross, he tried to screen himself from the attack of his wiryantagonist. "Drop when he hits!" cried Mendoza. "Drop and have arest!"

But there was no shyness or shiftiness about Berks's fighting. Hewas always a gallant ruffian, who disdained to go down before anantagonist as long as his legs would sustain him. He propped Jimoff with his long arm, and though the lad sprang lightly round himlooking for an opening, he was held off as if a forty-inch bar ofiron were between them. Every instant now was in favour of Berks, and already his breathing was easier and the bluish tinge fadingfrom his face. Jim knew that his chance of a speedy victory wasslipping away from him, and he came back again and again as swift asa flash to the attack without being able to get past the passivedefence of the trained fighting-man. It was at such a moment thatringcraft was needed, and luckily for Jim two masters of it were athis back. 

"Get your left on his mark, boy, " they shouted, "then go to his headwith the right. "

Jim heard and acted on the instant. Plunk! came his left just wherehis antagonist's ribs curved from his breast-bone. The force of theblow was half broken by Berks's elbow, but it served its purpose ofbringing forward his head. Spank! went the right, with the clear, crisp sound of two billiard balls clapping together, and Berksreeled, flung up his arms, spun round, and fell in a huge, fleshyheap upon the floor. His seconds were on him instantly, and proppedhim up in a sitting position, his head rolling helplessly from oneshoulder to the other, and finally toppling backwards with his chinpointed to the ceiling. Dutch Sam thrust the brandy-bladder betweenhis teeth, while Mendoza shook him savagely and howled insults inhis ear, but neither the spirits nor the sense of injury could breakinto that serene insensibility. "Time!" was duly called, and theJews, seeing that the affair was over, let their man's head fallback with a crack upon the floor, and there he lay, his huge armsand legs asprawl, whilst the Corinthians and fighting-men crowdedpast him to shake the hand of his conqueror. 

For my part, I tried also to press through the throng, but it was noeasy task for one of the smallest and weakest men in the room. Onall sides of me I heard a brisk discussion from amateurs andprofessionals of Jim's performance and of his prospects. 

"He's the best bit of new stuff that I've seen since Jem Belcherfought his first fight with Paddington Jones at Wormwood Scrubbsfour years ago last April, " said Berkeley Craven. "You'll see himwith the belt round his waist before he's five-and-twenty, or I amno judge of a man. "

"That handsome face of his has cost me a cool five hundred, "grumbled Sir John Lade. "Who'd have thought he was such a punishinghitter?"

"For all that, " said another, "I am confident that if Joe Berks hadbeen sober he would have eaten him. Besides, the lad was intraining, and the other would burst like an overdone potato if hewere hit. I never saw a man so soft, or with his wind in suchcondition. Put the men in training, and it's a horse to a hen onthe bruiser. "

Some agreed with the last speaker and some were against him, so thata brisk argument was being carried on around me. In the midst of itthe Prince took his departure, which was the signal for the greaterpart of the company to make for the door. In this way I was able atlast to reach the corner where Jim had just finished his dressing, while Champion Harrison, with tears of joy still shining upon hischeeks, was helping him on with his overcoat. 

"In four rounds!" he kept repeating in a sort of an ecstasy. "JoeBerks in four rounds! And it took Jem Belcher fourteen!"

"Well, Roddy, " cried Jim, holding out his hand, "I told you that Iwould come to London and make my name known. "

"It was splendid, Jim!"

"Dear old Roddy! I saw your white face staring at me from thecorner. You are not changed, for all your grand clothes and yourLondon friends. "

"It is you who are changed, Jim, " said I; "I hardly knew you whenyou came into the room. "

"Nor I, " cried the smith. "Where got you all these fine feathers, Jim? Sure I am that it was not your aunt who helped you to thefirst step towards the prize-ring. "

"Miss Hinton has been my friend--the best friend I ever had. "

"Humph! I thought as much, " grumbled the smith. "Well, it is nodoing of mine, Jim, and you must bear witness to that when we gohome again. I don't know what--but, there, it is done, and it can'tbe helped. After all, she's--Now, the deuce take my clumsy tongue!"

I could not tell whether it was the wine which he had taken atsupper or the excitement of Boy Jim's victory which was affectingHarrison, but his usually placid face wore a most disturbedexpression, and his manner seemed to betray an alternation ofexultation and embarrassment. Jim looked curiously at him, wondering evidently what it was that lay behind these abruptsentences and sudden silences. The coach-house had in the mean timebeen cleared; Berks with many curses had staggered at last to hisfeet, and had gone off in company with two other bruisers, while JemBelcher alone remained chatting very earnestly with my uncle. 

"Very good, Belcher, " I heard my uncle say. 

"It would be a real pleasure to me to do it, sir, " and the famousprize-fighter, as the two walked towards us. 

"I wished to ask you, Jim Harrison, whether you would undertake tobe my champion in the fight against Crab Wilson of Gloucester?" saidmy uncle. 

"That is what I want, Sir Charles--to have a chance of fighting myway upwards. "

"There are heavy stakes upon the event--very heavy stakes, " said myuncle. "You will receive two hundred pounds, if you win. Does thatsatisfy you?"

"I shall fight for the honour, and because I wish to be thoughtworthy of being matched against Jem Belcher. "

Belcher laughed good-humouredly. 

"You are going the right way about it, lad, " said he. "But you hada soft thing on to-night with a drunken man who was out ofcondition. "

"I did not wish to fight him, " said Jim, flushing. 

"Oh, I know you have spirit enough to fight anything on two legs. Iknew that the instant I clapped eyes on you; but I want you toremember that when you fight Crab Wilson, you will fight the mostpromising man from the west, and that the best man of the west islikely to be the best man in England. He's as quick and as long inthe reach as you are, and he'll train himself to the last half-ounceof tallow. I tell you this now, d'ye see, because if I'm to havethe charge of you--"

"Charge of me!"

"Yes, " said my uncle. "Belcher has consented to train you for thecoming battle if you are willing to enter. "

"I am sure I am very much obliged to you, " cried Jim, heartily. "Unless my uncle should wish to train me, there is no one I wouldrather have. "

"Nay, Jim; I'll stay with you a few days, but Belcher knows a dealmore about training than I do. Where will the quarters be?"

"I thought it would be handy for you if we fixed it at the George, at Crawley. Then, if we have choice of place, we might chooseCrawley Down, for, except Molesey Hurst, and, maybe, Smitham Bottom, there isn't a spot in the country that would compare with it for amill. Do you agree with that?"

"With all my heart, " said Jim. 

"Then you're my man from this hour on, d'ye see?" said Belcher. "Your food is mine, and your drink is mine, and your sleep is mine, and all you've to do is just what you are told. We haven't an hourto lose, for Wilson has been in half-training this month back. Yousaw his empty glass to-night. "

"Jim's fit to fight for his life at the present moment, " saidHarrison. "But we'll both come down to Crawley to-morrow. So goodnight, Sir Charles. "

"Good night, Roddy, " said Jim. "You'll come down to Crawley and seeme at my training quarters, will you not?"

And I heartily promised that I would. 

"You must be more careful, nephew, " said my uncle, as we rattledhome in his model vis-a-vis. "En premiere jeunesse one is a littleinclined to be ruled by one's heart rather than by one's reason. Jim Harrison seems to be a most respectable young fellow, but afterall he is a blacksmith's apprentice, and a candidate for the prize-ring. There is a vast gap between his position and that of my ownblood relation, and you must let him feel that you are hissuperior. "

"He is the oldest and dearest friend that I have in the world, sir, "I answered. "We were boys together, and have never had a secretfrom each other. As to showing him that I am his superior, I don'tknow how I can do that, for I know very well that he is mine. "

"Hum!" said my uncle, drily, and it was the last word that headdressed to me that night. 

CHAPTER XII--THE COFFEE-ROOM OF FLADONG'S

So Boy Jim went down to the George, at Crawley, under the charge ofJim Belcher and Champion Harrison, to train for his great fight withCrab Wilson, of Gloucester, whilst every club and bar parlour ofLondon rang with the account of how he had appeared at a supper ofCorinthians, and beaten the formidable Joe Berks in four rounds. Iremembered that afternoon at Friar's Oak when Jim had told me thathe would make his name known, and his words had come true soonerthan he could have expected it, for, go where one might, one heardof nothing but the match between Sir Lothian Hume and Sir CharlesTregellis, and the points of the two probable combatants. Thebetting was still steadily in favour of Wilson, for he had a numberof bye-battles to set against this single victory of Jim's, and itwas thought by connoisseurs who had seen him spar that the singulardefensive tactics which had given him his nickname would prove verypuzzling to a raw antagonist. In height, strength, and reputationfor gameness there was very little to choose between them, butWilson had been the more severely tested. 

It was but a few days before the battle that my father made hispromised visit to London. The seaman had no love of cities, and washappier wandering over the Downs, and turning his glass upon everytopsail which showed above the horizon, than when finding his wayamong crowded streets, where, as he complained, it was impossible tokeep a course by the sun, and hard enough by dead reckoning. Rumours of war were in the air, however, and it was necessary thathe should use his influence with Lord Nelson if a vacancy were to befound either for himself or for me. 

My uncle had just set forth, as was his custom of an evening, cladin his green riding-frock, his plate buttons, his Cordovan boots, and his round hat, to show himself upon his crop-tailed tit in theMall. I had remained behind, for, indeed, I had already made up mymind that I had no calling for this fashionable life. These men, with their small waists, their gestures, and their unnatural ways, had become wearisome to me, and even my uncle, with his cold andpatronizing manner, filled me with very mixed feelings. My thoughtswere back in Sussex, and I was dreaming of the kindly, simple waysof the country, when there came a rat-tat at the knocker, the ringof a hearty voice, and there, in the doorway, was the smiling, weather-beaten face, with the puckered eyelids and the light blueeyes. 

"Why, Roddy, you are grand indeed!" he cried. "But I had rather seeyou with the King's blue coat upon your back than with all thesefrills and ruffles. "

"And I had rather wear it, father. "

"It warms my heart to hear you say so. Lord Nelson has promised methat he would find a berth for you, and to-morrow we shall seek himout and remind him of it. But where is your uncle?"

"He is riding in the Mall. "

A look of relief passed over my father's honest face, for he wasnever very easy in his brother-in-law's company. "I have been tothe Admiralty, " said he, "and I trust that I shall have a ship whenwar breaks out; by all accounts it will not be long first. Lord St. Vincent told me so with his own lips. But I am at Fladong's, Rodney, where, if you will come and sup with me, you will see someof my messmates from the Mediterranean. "

When you think that in the last year of the war we had 140, 000seamen and mariners afloat, commanded by 4000 officers, and thathalf of these had been turned adrift when the Peace of Amiens laidtheir ships up in the Hamoaze or Portsdown creek, you willunderstand that London, as well as the dockyard towns, was full ofseafarers. You could not walk the streets without catching sight ofthe gipsy-faced, keen-eyed men whose plain clothes told of theirthin purses as plainly as their listless air showed their wearinessof a life of forced and unaccustomed inaction. Amid the darkstreets and brick houses there was something out of place in theirappearance, as when the sea-gulls, driven by stress of weather, areseen in the Midland shires. Yet while prize-courts procrastinated, or there was a chance of an appointment by showing their sunburnedfaces at the Admiralty, so long they would continue to pace withtheir quarter-deck strut down Whitehall, or to gather of an eveningto discuss the events of the last war or the chances of the next atFladong's, in Oxford Street, which was reserved as entirely for theNavy as Slaughter's was for the Army, or Ibbetson's for the Churchof England. 

It did not surprise me, therefore, that we should find the largeroom in which we supped crowded with naval men, but I remember thatwhat did cause me some astonishment was to observe that all thesesailors, who had served under the most varying conditions in allquarters of the globe, from the Baltic to the East Indies, shouldhave been moulded into so uniform a type that they were more likeeach other than brother is commonly to brother. The rules of theservice insured that every face should be clean-shaven, every headpowdered, and every neck covered by the little queue of natural hairtied with a black silk ribbon. Biting winds and tropical suns hadcombined to darken them, whilst the habit of command and the menaceof ever-recurring dangers had stamped them all with the sameexpression of authority and of alertness. There were some jovialfaces amongst them, but the older officers, with their deep-linedcheeks and their masterful noses, were, for the most part, asaustere as so many weather-beaten ascetics from the desert. Lonelywatches, and a discipline which cut them off from all companionship, had left their mark upon those Red Indian faces. For my part, Icould hardly eat my supper for watching them. Young as I was, Iknew that if there were any freedom left in Europe it was to thesemen that we owed it; and I seemed to read upon their grim, harshfeatures the record of that long ten years of struggle which hadswept the tricolour from the seas. 

When we had finished our supper, my father led me into the greatcoffee-room, where a hundred or more officers may have beenassembled, drinking their wine and smoking their long clay pipes, until the air was as thick as the main-deck in a close-foughtaction. As we entered we found ourselves face to face with anelderly officer who was coming out. He was a man with large, thoughtful eyes, and a full, placid face--such a face as one wouldexpect from a philosopher and a philanthropist, rather than from afighting seaman. 

"Here's Cuddie Collingwood, " whispered my father. 

"Halloa, Lieutenant Stone!" cried the famous admiral very cheerily. "I have scarce caught a glimpse of you since you came aboard theExcellent after St. Vincent. You had the luck to be at the Nilealso, I understand?"

"I was third of the Theseus, under Millar, sir. "

"It nearly broke my heart to have missed it. I have not yetoutlived it. To think of such a gallant service, and I engaged inharassing the market-boats, the miserable cabbage-carriers of St. Luccars!"

"Your plight was better than mine, Sir Cuthbert, " said a voice frombehind us, and a large man in the full uniform of a post-captaintook a step forward to include himself in our circle. His mastiffface was heavy with emotion, and he shook his head miserably as hespoke. 

"Yes, yes, Troubridge, I can understand and sympathize with yourfeelings. "

"I passed through torment that night, Collingwood. It left a markon me that I shall never lose until I go over the ship's side in acanvas cover. To have my beautiful Culloden laid on a sandbank justout of gunshot. To hear and see the fight the whole night through, and never to pull a lanyard or take the tompions out of my guns. Twice I opened my pistol-case to blow out my brains, and it was butthe thought that Nelson might have a use for me that held me back. "

Collingwood shook the hand of the unfortunate captain. 

"Admiral Nelson was not long in finding a use for you, Troubridge, "said he. "We have all heard of your siege of Capua, and how you ranup your ship's guns without trenches or parallels, and fired point-blank through the embrasures. "

The melancholy cleared away from the massive face of the big seaman, and his deep laughter filled the room. 

"I'm not clever enough or slow enough for their Z-Z fashions, " saidhe. "We got alongside and slapped it in through their port-holesuntil they struck their colours. But where have you been, SirCuthbert?"

"With my wife and my two little lasses at Morpeth in the NorthCountry. I have but seen them this once in ten years, and it may beten more, for all I know, ere I see them again. I have been doinggood work for the fleet up yonder. "

"I had thought, sir, that it was inland, " said my father. 

Collingwood took a little black bag out of his pocket and shook it. 

"Inland it is, " said he, "and yet I have done good work for thefleet there. What do you suppose I hold in this bag?"

"Bullets, " said Troubridge. 

"Something that a sailor needs even more than that, " answered theadmiral, and turning it over he tilted a pile of acorns on to hispalm. "I carry them with me in my country walks, and where I see afruitful nook I thrust one deep with the end of my cane. My oaktrees may fight those rascals over the water when I am longforgotten. Do you know, lieutenant, how many oaks go to make aneighty-gun ship?"

My father shook his head. 

"Two thousand, no less. For every two-decked ship that carries thewhite ensign there is a grove the less in England. So how are ourgrandsons to beat the French if we do not give them the trees withwhich to build their ships?"

He replaced his bag in his pocket, and then, passing his arm throughTroubridge's, they went through the door together. 

"There's a man whose life might help you to trim your own course, "said my father, as we took our seats at a vacant table. "He is everthe same quiet gentleman, with his thoughts busy for the comfort ofhis ship's company, and his heart with his wife and children whom hehas so seldom seen. It is said in the fleet that an oath has neverpassed his lips, Rodney, though how he managed when he was firstlieutenant of a raw crew is more than I can conceive. But they alllove Cuddie, for they know he's an angel to fight. How d'ye do, Captain Foley? My respects, Sir Ed'ard! Why, if they could butpress the company, they would man a corvette with flag officers. "

"There's many a man here, Rodney, " continued my father, as heglanced about him, "whose name may never find its way into any booksave his own ship's log, but who in his own way has set as fine anexample as any admiral of them all. We know them, and talk of themin the fleet, though they may never be bawled in the streets ofLondon. There's as much seamanship and pluck in a good cutteraction as in a line-o'-battleship fight, though you may not come bya title nor the thanks of Parliament for it. There's Hamilton, forexample, the quiet, pale-faced man who is learning against thepillar. It was he who, with six rowing-boats, cut out the 44-gunfrigate Hermione from under the muzzles of two hundred shore-guns inthe harbour of Puerto Cabello. No finer action was done in thewhole war. There's Jaheel Brenton, with the whiskers. It was hewho attacked twelve Spanish gunboats in his one little brig, andmade four of them strike to him. There's Walker, of the Rosecutter, who, with thirteen men, engaged three French privateers withcrews of a hundred and forty-six. He sank one, captured one, andchased the third. How are you, Captain Ball? I hope I see youwell?"

Two or three of my father's acquaintances who had been sitting closeby drew up their chairs to us, and soon quite a circle had formed, all talking loudly and arguing upon sea matters, shaking their long, red-tipped pipes at each other as they spoke. My father whisperedin my ear that his neighbour was Captain Foley, of the Goliath, wholed the van at the Nile, and that the tall, thin, foxy-haired manopposite was Lord Cochrane, the most dashing frigate captain in theService. Even at Friar's Oak we had heard how, in the littleSpeedy, of fourteen small guns with fifty-four men, he had carriedby boarding the Spanish frigate Gamo with her crew of three hundred. It was easy to see that he was a quick, irascible, high-blooded man, for he was talking hotly about his grievances with a flush of angerupon his freckled cheeks. 

"We shall never do any good upon the ocean until we have hanged thedockyard contractors, " he cried. "I'd have a dead dockyardcontractor as a figure-head for every first-rate in the fleet, and aprovision dealer for every frigate. I know them with their puttiedseams and their devil bolts, risking five hundred lives that theymay steal a few pounds' worth of copper. What became of the Chance, and of the Martin, and of the Orestes? They foundered at sea, andwere never heard of more, and I say that the crews of them weremurdered men. "

Lord Cochrane seemed to be expressing the views of all, for a murmurof assent, with a mutter of hearty, deep-sea curses, ran round thecircle. 

"Those rascals over yonder manage things better, " said an old one-eyed captain, with the blue-and-white riband for St. Vincent peepingout of his third buttonhole. "They sheer away their heads if theyget up to any foolery. Did ever a vessel come out of Toulon as my38-gun frigate did from Plymouth last year, with her masts rollingabout until her shrouds were like iron bars on one side and hangingin festoons upon the other? The meanest sloop that ever sailed outof France would have overmatched her, and then it would be on me, and not on this Devonport bungler, that a court-martial would becalled. "

They loved to grumble, those old salts, for as soon as one had shotoff his grievance his neighbour would follow with another, each morebitter than the last. 

"Look at our sails!" cried Captain Foley. "Put a French and aBritish ship at anchor together, and how can you tell which iswhich?"

"Frenchy has his fore and maintop-gallant masts about equal, " saidmy father. 

"In the old ships, maybe, but how many of the new are laid down onthe French model? No, there's no way of telling them at anchor. But let them hoist sail, and how d'you tell them then?"

"Frenchy has white sails, " cried several. 

"And ours are black and rotten. That's the difference. No wonderthey outsail us when the wind can blow through our canvas. "

"In the Speedy, " said Cochrane, "the sailcloth was so thin that, when I made my observation, I always took my meridian through theforetopsail and my horizon through the foresail. "

There was a general laugh at this, and then at it they all wentagain, letting off into speech all those weary broodings and silenttroubles which had rankled during long years of service, for an irondiscipline prevented them from speaking when their feet were upontheir own quarter-decks. One told of his powder, six pounds ofwhich were needed to throw a ball a thousand yards. Another cursedthe Admiralty Courts, where a prize goes in as a full-rigged shipand comes out as a schooner. The old captain spoke of thepromotions by Parliamentary interest which had put many a youngsterinto the captain's cabin when he should have been in the gun-room. And then they came back to the difficulty of finding crews for theirvessels, and they all together raised up their voices and wailed. 

"What is the use of building fresh ships, " cried Foley, "when evenwith a ten-pound bounty you can't man the ships that you have got?"

But Lord Cochrane was on the other side in this question. 

"You'd have the men, sir, if you treated them well when you gotthem, " said he. "Admiral Nelson can get his ships manned. So canAdmiral Collingwood. Why? Because he has thought for the men, andso the men have thought for him. Let men and officers know andrespect each other, and there's no difficulty in keeping a ship'scompany. It's the infernal plan of turning a crew over from ship toship and leaving the officers behind that rots the Navy. But I havenever found a difficulty, and I dare swear that if I hoist mypennant to-morrow I shall have all my old Speedies back, and as manyvolunteers as I care to take. "

"That is very well, my lord, " said the old captain, with somewarmth; "when the Jacks hear that the Speedy took fifty vessels inthirteen months, they are sure to volunteer to serve with hercommander. Every good cruiser can fill her complement quicklyenough. But it is not the cruisers that fight the country's battlesand blockade the enemy's ports. I say that all prize-money shouldbe divided equally among the whole fleet, and until you have such arule, the smartest men will always be found where they are of leastservice to any one but themselves. "

This speech produced a chorus of protests from the cruiser officersand a hearty agreement from the line-of-battleship men, who seemedto be in the majority in the circle which had gathered round. Fromthe flushed faces and angry glances it was evident that the questionwas one upon which there was strong feeling upon both sides. 

"What the cruiser gets the cruiser earns, " cried a frigate captain. 

"Do you mean to say, sir, " said Captain Foley, "that the duties ofan officer upon a cruiser demand more care or higher professionalability than those of one who is employed upon blockade service, with a lee coast under him whenever the wind shifts to the west, andthe topmasts of an enemy's squadron for ever in his sight?"

"I do not claim higher ability, sir. "

"Then why should you claim higher pay? Can you deny that a seamanbefore the mast makes more in a fast frigate than a lieutenant canin a battleship?"

"It was only last year, " said a very gentlemanly-looking officer, who might have passed for a buck upon town had his skin not beenburned to copper in such sunshine as never bursts upon London--"itwas only last year that I brought the old Alexander back from theMediterranean, floating like an empty barrel and carrying nothingbut honour for her cargo. In the Channel we fell in with thefrigate Minerva from the Western Ocean, with her lee ports underwater and her hatches bursting with the plunder which had been toovaluable to trust to the prize crews. She had ingots of silveralong her yards and bowsprit, and a bit of silver plate at the truckof the masts. My Jacks could have fired into her, and would, too, if they had not been held back. It made them mad to think of allthey had done in the south, and then to see this saucy frigateflashing her money before their eyes. "

"I cannot see their grievance, Captain Ball, " said Cochrane. 

"When you are promoted to a two-decker, my lord, it will possiblybecome clearer to you. "

"You speak as if a cruiser had nothing to do but take prizes. Ifthat is your view, you will permit me to say that you know verylittle of the matter. I have handled a sloop, a corvette, and afrigate, and I have found a great variety of duties in each of them. I have had to avoid the enemy's battleships and to fight hiscruisers. I have had to chase and capture his privateers, and tocut them out when they run under his batteries. I have had toengage his forts, to take my men ashore, and to destroy his guns andhis signal stations. All this, with convoying, reconnoitring, andrisking one's own ship in order to gain a knowledge of the enemy'smovements, comes under the duties of the commander of a cruiser. Imake bold to say that the man who can carry these objects out withsuccess has deserved better of the country than the officer of abattleship, tacking from Ushant to the Black Rocks and back againuntil she builds up a reef with her beef-bones. "

"Sir, " said the angry old sailor, "such an officer is at least in nodanger of being mistaken for a privateersman. "

"I am surprised, Captain Bulkeley, " Cochran retorted hotly, "thatyou should venture to couple the names of privateersman and King'sofficer. "

There was mischief brewing among these hot-headed, short-spokensalts, but Captain Foley changed the subject to discuss the newships which were being built in the French ports. It was ofinterest to me to hear these men, who were spending their lives infighting against our neighbours, discussing their character andways. You cannot conceive--you who live in times of peace andcharity--how fierce the hatred was in England at that time againstthe French, and above all against their great leader. It was morethan a mere prejudice or dislike. It was a deep, aggressiveloathing of which you may even now form some conception if youexamine the papers or caricatures of the day. The word "Frenchman"was hardly spoken without "rascal" or "scoundrel" slipping in beforeit. In all ranks of life and in every part of the country thefeeling was the same. Even the Jacks aboard our ships fought with aviciousness against a French vessel which they would never show toDane, Dutchman, or Spaniard. 

If you ask me now, after fifty years, why it was that there shouldhave been this virulent feeling against them, so foreign to theeasy-going and tolerant British nature, I would confess that I thinkthe real reason was fear. Not fear of them individually, of course--our foulest detractors have never called us faint-hearted--but fearof their star, fear of their future, fear of the subtle brain whoseplans always seemed to go aright, and of the heavy hand which hadstruck nation after nation to the ground. We were but a smallcountry, with a population which, when the war began, was not muchmore than half that of France. And then, France had increased byleaps and bounds, reaching out to the north into Belgium andHolland, and to the south into Italy, whilst we were weakened bydeep-lying disaffection among both Catholics and Presbyterians inIreland. The danger was imminent and plain to the least thoughtful. One could not walk the Kent coast without seeing the beacons heapedup to tell the country of the enemy's landing, and if the sun wereshining on the uplands near Boulogne, one might catch the flash ofits gleam upon the bayonets of manoeuvring veterans. No wonder thata fear of the French power lay deeply in the hearts of the mostgallant men, and that fear should, as it always does, beget a bitterand rancorous hatred. 

The seamen did not speak kindly then of their recent enemies. Theirhearts loathed them, and in the fashion of our country their lipssaid what the heart felt. Of the French officers they could nothave spoken with more chivalry, as of worthy foemen, but the nationwas an abomination to them. The older men had fought against themin the American War, they had fought again for the last ten years, and the dearest wish of their hearts seemed to be that they might becalled upon to do the same for the remainder of their days. Yet ifI was surprised by the virulence of their animosity against theFrench, I was even more so to hear how highly they rated them asantagonists. The long succession of British victories which hadfinally made the French take to their ports and resign the strugglein despair had given all of us the idea that for some reason aBriton on the water must, in the nature of things, always have thebest of it against a Frenchman. But these men who had done thefighting did not think so. They were loud in their praise of theirfoemen's gallantry, and precise in their reasons for his defeat. They showed how the officers of the old French Navy had nearly allbeen aristocrats. How the Revolution had swept them out of theirships, and the force been left with insubordinate seamen and nocompetent leaders. This ill-directed fleet had been hustled intoport by the pressure of the well-manned and well-commanded British, who had pinned them there ever since, so that they had never had anopportunity of learning seamanship. Their harbour drill and theirharbour gunnery had been of no service when sails had to be trimmedand broadsides fired on the heave of an Atlantic swell. Let one oftheir frigates get to sea and have a couple of years' free run inwhich the crew might learn their duties, and then it would be afeather in the cap of a British officer if with a ship of equalforce he could bring down her colours. 

Such were the views of these experienced officers, fortified by manyreminiscences and examples of French gallantry, such as the way inwhich the crew of the L'Orient had fought her quarter-deck guns whenthe main-deck was in a blaze beneath them, and when they must haveknown that they were standing over an exploding magazine. Thegeneral hope was that the West Indian expedition since the peacemight have given many of their fleet an ocean training, and thatthey might be tempted out into mid-Channel if the war were to breakout afresh. But would it break out afresh? We had spent giganticsums and made enormous exertions to curb the power of Napoleon andto prevent him from becoming the universal despot of Europe. Wouldthe Government try it again? Or were they appalled by the giganticload of debt which must bend the backs of many generations unborn?Pitt was there, and surely he was not a man to leave his work halfdone. 

And then suddenly there was a bustle at the door. Amid the greyswirl of the tobacco-smoke I could catch a glimpse of a blue coatand gold epaulettes, with a crowd gathering thickly round them, while a hoarse murmur rose from the group which thickened into adeep-chested cheer. Every one was on his feet, peering and askingeach other what it might mean. And still the crowd seethed and thecheering swelled. 

"What is it? What has happened?" cried a score of voices. 

"Put him up! Hoist him up!" shouted somebody, and an instant laterI saw Captain Troubridge appear above the shoulders of the crowd. His face was flushed, as if he were in wine, and he was waving whatseemed to be a letter in the air. The cheering died away, and therewas such a hush that I could hear the crackle of the paper in hishand. 

"Great news, gentlemen!" he roared. "Glorious news! Rear-AdmiralCollingwood has directed me to communicate it to you. The FrenchAmbassador has received his papers to-night. Every ship on the listis to go into commission. Admiral Cornwallis is ordered out ofCawsand Bay to cruise off Ushant. A squadron is starting for theNorth Sea and another for the Irish Channel. "

He may have had more to say, but his audience could wait no longer. How they shouted and stamped and raved in their delight! Harsh oldflag-officers, grave post-captains, young lieutenants, all wereroaring like schoolboys breaking up for the holidays. There was nothought now of those manifold and weary grievances to which I hadlistened. The foul weather was passed, and the landlocked sea-birdswould be out on the foam once more. The rhythm of "God Save theKing" swelled through the babel, and I heard the old lines sung in away that made you forget their bad rhymes and their bald sentiments. I trust that you will never hear them so sung, with tears uponrugged cheeks, and catchings of the breath from strong men. Darkdays will have come again before you hear such a song or see such asight as that. Let those talk of the phlegm of our countrymen whohave never seen them when the lava crust of restraint is broken, andwhen for an instant the strong, enduring fires of the North glowupon the surface. I saw them then, and if I do not see them now, Iam not so old or so foolish as to doubt that they are there. 

CHAPTER XIII--LORD NELSON

My father's appointment with Lord Nelson was an early one, and hewas the more anxious to be punctual as he knew how much theAdmiral's movements must be affected by the news which we had heardthe night before. I had hardly breakfasted then, and my uncle hadnot rung for his chocolate, when he called for me at Jermyn Street. A walk of a few hundred yards brought us to the high building ofdiscoloured brick in Piccadilly, which served the Hamiltons as atown house, and which Nelson used as his head-quarters when businessor pleasure called him from Merton. A footman answered our knock, and we were ushered into a large drawing-room with sombre furnitureand melancholy curtains. My father sent in his name, and there wesat, looking at the white Italian statuettes in the corners, and thepicture of Vesuvius and the Bay of Naples which hung over theharpsichord. I can remember that a black clock was ticking loudlyupon the mantelpiece, and that every now and then, amid the rumbleof the hackney coaches, we could hear boisterous laughter from someinner chamber. 

When at last the door opened, both my father and I sprang to ourfeet, expecting to find ourselves face to face with the greatestliving Englishman. It was a very different person, however, whoswept into the room. 

She was a lady, tall, and, as it seemed to me, exceedinglybeautiful, though, perhaps, one who was more experienced and morecritical might have thought that her charm lay in the past ratherthan the present. Her queenly figure was moulded upon large andnoble lines, while her face, though already tending to becomesomewhat heavy and coarse, was still remarkable for the brilliancyof the complexion, the beauty of the large, light blue eyes, and thetinge of the dark hair which curled over the low white forehead. She carried herself in the most stately fashion, so that as I lookedat her majestic entrance, and at the pose which she struck as sheglanced at my father, I was reminded of the Queen of the Peruviansas, in the person of Miss Polly Hinton, she incited Boy Jim andmyself to insurrection. 

"Lieutenant Anson Stone?" she asked. 

"Yes, your ladyship, " answered my father. 

"Ah, " she cried, with an affected and exaggerated start, "you knowme, then?"

"I have seen your ladyship at Naples. "

"Then you have doubtless seen my poor Sir William also--my poor, poor Sir William!" She touched her dress with her white, ring-covered fingers, as if to draw our attention to the fact that shewas in the deepest mourning. 

"I heard of your ladyship's sad loss, " said my father. 

"We died together, " she cried. "What can my life be now save along-drawn living death?"

She spoke in a beautiful, rich voice, with the most heart-brokenthrill in it, but I could not conceal from myself that she appearedto be one of the most robust persons that I had ever seen, and I wassurprised to notice that she shot arch little questioning glances atme, as if the admiration even of so insignificant a person were ofsome interest to her. My father, in his blunt, sailor fashion, tried to stammer out some commonplace condolence, but her eyes sweptpast his rude, weather-beaten face to ask and reask what effect shehad made upon me. 

"There he hangs, the tutelary angel of this house, " she cried, pointing with a grand sweeping gesture to a painting upon the wall, which represented a very thin-faced, high-nosed gentleman withseveral orders upon his coat. "But enough of my private sorrow!"She dashed invisible tears from her eyes. "You have come to seeLord Nelson. He bid me say that he would be with you in an instant. You have doubtless heard that hostilities are about to reopen?"

"We heard the news last night. "

"Lord Nelson is under orders to take command of the MediterraneanFleet. You can think at such a moment--But, ah, is it not hislordship's step that I hear?"

My attention was so riveted by the lady's curious manner and by thegestures and attitudes with which she accompanied every remark, thatI did not see the great admiral enter the room. When I turned hewas standing close by my elbow, a small, brown man with the lithe, slim figure of a boy. He was not clad in uniform, but he wore ahigh-collared brown coat, with the right sleeve hanging limp andempty by his side. The expression of his face was, as I rememberit, exceedingly sad and gentle, with the deep lines upon it whichtold of the chafing of his urgent and fiery soul. One eye wasdisfigured and sightless from a wound, but the other looked from myfather to myself with the quickest and shrewdest of expressions. Indeed, his whole manner, with his short, sharp glance and the finepoise of the head, spoke of energy and alertness, so that hereminded me, if I may compare great things with small, of a well-bred fighting terrier, gentle and slim, but keen and ready forwhatever chance might send. 

"Why, Lieutenant Stone, " said he, with great cordiality, holding outhis left hand to my father, "I am very glad to see you. London isfull of Mediterranean men, but I trust that in a week there will notbe an officer amongst you all with his feet on dry land. "

"I had come to ask you, sir, if you could assist me to a ship. "

"You shall have one, Stone, if my word goes for anything at theAdmiralty. I shall want all my old Nile men at my back. I cannotpromise you a first-rate, but at least it shall be a 64-gun ship, and I can tell you that there is much to be done with a handy, well-manned, well-found 64-gun ship. "

"Who could doubt it who has heard of the Agamemnon?" cried LadyHamilton, and straightway she began to talk of the admiral and ofhis doings with such extravagance of praise and such a shower ofcompliments and of epithets, that my father and I did not know whichway to look, feeling shame and sorrow for a man who was compelled tolisten to such things said in his own presence. But when I venturedto glance at Lord Nelson I found, to my surprise, that, far fromshowing any embarrassment, he was smiling with pleasure, as if thisgross flattery of her ladyship's were the dearest thing in all theworld to him. 

"Come, come, my dear lady, " said he, "you speak vastly beyond mymerits;" upon which encouragement she started again in a theatricalapostrophe to Britain's darling and Neptune's eldest son, which heendured with the same signs of gratitude and pleasure. That a manof the world, five-and-forty years of age, shrewd, honest, andacquainted with Courts, should be beguiled by such crude and coarsehomage, amazed me, as it did all who knew him; but you who have seenmuch of life do not need to be told how often the strongest andnoblest nature has its one inexplicable weakness, showing up themore obviously in contrast to the rest, as the dark stain looks thefouler upon the whitest sheet. 

"You are a sea-officer of my own heart, Stone, " said he, when herladyship had exhausted her panegyric. "You are one of the oldbreed!" He walked up and down the room with little, impatient stepsas he talked, turning with a whisk upon his heel every now and then, as if some invisible rail had brought him up. "We are getting toofine for our work with these new-fangled epaulettes and quarter-decktrimmings. When I joined the Service, you would find a lieutenantgammoning and rigging his own bowsprit, or aloft, maybe, with amarlinspike slung round his neck, showing an example to his men. Now, it's as much as he'll do to carry his own sextant up thecompanion. When could you join?"

"To-night, my lord. "

"Right, Stone, right! That is the true spirit. They are workingdouble tides in the yards, but I do not know when the ships will beready. I hoist my flag on the Victory on Wednesday, and we sail atonce. "

"No, no; not so soon! She cannot be ready for sea, " said LadyHamilton, in a wailing voice, clasping her hands and turning up hereyes as she spoke. 

"She must and she shall be ready, " cried Nelson, with extraordinaryvehemence. "By Heaven! if the devil stands at the door, I sail onWednesday. Who knows what these rascals may be doing in my absence?It maddens me to think of the deviltries which they may be devising. At this very instant, dear lady, the Queen, OUR Queen, may bestraining her eyes for the topsails of Nelson's ships. "

Thinking, as I did, that he was speaking of our own old QueenCharlotte, I could make no meaning out of this; but my father toldme afterwards that both Nelson and Lady Hamilton had conceived anextraordinary affection for the Queen of Naples, and that it was theinterests of her little kingdom which he had so strenuously atheart. It may have been my expression of bewilderment whichattracted Nelson's attention to me, for he suddenly stopped in hisquick quarter-deck walk, and looked me up and down with a severeeye. 

"Well, young gentleman!" said he, sharply. 

"This is my only son, sir, " said my father. "It is my wish that heshould join the Service, if a berth can be found for him; for wehave all been King's officers for many generations. "

"So, you wish to come and have your bones broken?" cried Nelson, roughly, looking with much disfavour at the fine clothes which hadcost my uncle and Mr. Brummel such a debate. "You will have tochange that grand coat for a tarry jacket if you serve under me, sir. "

I was so embarrassed by the abruptness of his manner that I couldbut stammer out that I hoped I should do my duty, on which his sternmouth relaxed into a good-humoured smile, and he laid his littlebrown hand for an instant upon my shoulder. 

"I dare say that you will do very well, " said he. "I can see thatyou have the stuff in you. But do not imagine that it is a lightservice which you undertake, young gentleman, when you enter HisMajesty's Navy. It is a hard profession. You hear of the few whosucceed, but what do you know of the hundreds who never find theirway? Look at my own luck! Out of 200 who were with me in the SanJuan expedition, 145 died in a single night. I have been in 180engagements, and I have, as you see, lost my eye and my arm, andbeen sorely wounded besides. It chanced that I came through, andhere I am flying my admiral's flag; but I remember many a man asgood as me who did not come through. Yes, " he added, as herladyship broke in with a voluble protest, "many and many as good aman who has gone to the sharks or the land-crabs. But it is auseless sailor who does not risk himself every day, and the lives ofall of us are in the hands of Him who best knows when to claimthem. "

For an instant, in his earnest gaze and reverent manner, we seemedto catch a glimpse of the deeper, truer Nelson, the man of theEastern counties, steeped in the virile Puritanism which sent fromthat district the Ironsides to fashion England within, and thePilgrim Fathers to spread it without. Here was the Nelson whodeclared that he saw the hand of God pressing upon the French, andwho waited on his knees in the cabin of his flag-ship while she boredown upon the enemy's line. There was a human tenderness, too, inhis way of speaking of his dead comrades, which made me understandwhy it was that he was so beloved by all who served with him, for, iron-hard as he was as seaman and fighter, there ran through hiscomplex nature a sweet and un-English power of affectionate emotion, showing itself in tears if he were moved, and in such tenderimpulses as led him afterwards to ask his flag-captain to kiss himas he lay dying in the cockpit of the Victory. 

My father had risen to depart, but the admiral, with that kindlinesswhich he ever showed to the young, and which had been momentarilychilled by the unfortunate splendour of my clothes, still paced upand down in front of us, shooting out crisp little sentences ofexhortation and advice. 

"It is ardour that we need in the Service, young gentleman, " saidhe. "We need red-hot men who will never rest satisfied. We hadthem in the Mediterranean, and we shall have them again. There wasa band of brothers! When I was asked to recommend one for specialservice, I told the Admiralty they might take the names as theycame, for the same spirit animated them all. Had we taken nineteenvessels, we should never have said it was well done while thetwentieth sailed the seas. You know how it was with us, Stone. Youare too old a Mediterranean man for me to tell you anything. "

"I trust, my lord, that I shall be with you when next we meet them, "said my father. 

"Meet them we shall and must. By Heaven, I shall never rest until Ihave given them a shaking. The scoundrel Buonaparte wishes tohumble us. Let him try, and God help the better cause!"

He spoke with such extraordinary animation that the empty sleeveflapped about in the air, giving him the strangest appearance. Seeing my eyes fixed upon it, he turned with a smile to my father. 

"I can still work my fin, Stone, " said he, putting his hand acrossto the stump of his arm. "What used they to say in the fleet aboutit?"

"That it was a sign, sir, that it was a bad hour to cross yourhawse. "

"They knew me, the rascals. You can see, young gentleman, that nota scrap of the ardour with which I serve my country has been shotaway. Some day you may find that you are flying your own flag, andwhen that time comes you may remember that my advice to an officeris that he should have nothing to do with tame, slow measures. Layall your stake, and if you lose through no fault of your own, thecountry will find you another stake as large. Never mindmanoeuvres! Go for them! The only manoeuvre you need is that whichwill place you alongside your enemy. Always fight, and you willalways be right. Give not a thought to your own ease or your ownlife, for from the day that you draw the blue coat over your backyou have no life of your own. It is the country's, to be mostfreely spent if the smallest gain can come from it. How is the windthis morning, Stone?"

"East-south-east, " my father answered, readily. 

"Then Cornwallis is, doubtless, keeping well up to Brest, though, for my own part, I had rather tempt them out into the open sea. "

"That is what every officer and man in the fleet would prefer, yourlordship, " said my father. 

"They do not love the blockading service, and it is little wonder, since neither money nor honour is to be gained at it. You canremember how it was in the winter months before Toulon, Stone, whenwe had neither firing, wine, beef, pork, nor flour aboard the ships, nor a spare piece of rope, canvas, or twine. We braced the oldhulks with our spare cables, and God knows there was never aLevanter that I did not expect it to send us to the bottom. But weheld our grip all the same. Yet I fear that we do not get muchcredit for it here in England, Stone, where they light the windowsfor a great battle, but they do not understand that it is easier forus to fight the Nile six times over, than to keep our station allwinter in the blockade. But I pray God that we may meet this newfleet of theirs and settle the matter by a pell-mell battle. "

"May I be with you, my lord!" said my father, earnestly. "But wehave already taken too much of your time, and so I beg to thank youfor your kindness and to wish you good morning. "

"Good morning, Stone!" said Nelson. "You shall have your ship, andif I can make this young gentleman one of my officers it shall bedone. But I gather from his dress, " he continued, running his eyeover me, "that you have been more fortunate in prize-money than mostof your comrades. For my own part, I never did nor could turn mythoughts to money-making. "

My father explained that I had been under the charge of the famousSir Charles Tregellis, who was my uncle, and with whom I was nowresiding. 

"Then you need no help from me, " said Nelson, with some bitterness. "If you have either guineas or interest you can climb over the headsof old sea-officers, though you may not know the poop from thegalley, or a carronade from a long nine. Nevertheless--But what thedeuce have we here?"

The footman had suddenly precipitated himself into the room, butstood abashed before the fierce glare of the admiral's eye. 

"Your lordship told me to rush to you if it should come, " heexplained, holding out a large blue envelope. 

"By Heaven, it is my orders!" cried Nelson, snatching it up andfumbling with it in his awkward, one-handed attempt to break theseals. Lady Hamilton ran to his assistance, but no sooner had sheglanced at the paper inclosed than she burst into a shrill scream, and throwing up her hands and her eyes, she sank backwards in aswoon. I could not but observe, however, that her fall was verycarefully executed, and that she was fortunate enough, in spite ofher insensibility, to arrange her drapery and attitude into agraceful and classical design. But he, the honest seaman, soincapable of deceit or affectation that he could not suspect it inothers, ran madly to the bell, shouting for the maid, the doctor, and the smelling-salts, with incoherent words of grief, and suchpassionate terms of emotion that my father thought it more discreetto twitch me by the sleeve as a signal that we should steal from theroom. There we left him then in the dim-lit London drawing-room, beside himself with pity for this shallow and most artificial woman, while without, at the edge of the Piccadilly curb, there stood thehigh dark berline ready to start him upon that long journey whichwas to end in his chase of the French fleet over seven thousandmiles of ocean, his meeting with it, his victory, which confinedNapoleon's ambition for ever to the land, and his death, coming, asI would it might come to all of us, at the crowning moment of hislife. 

CHAPTER XIV--ON THE ROAD

And now the day of the great fight began to approach. Even theimminent outbreak of war and the renewed threats of Napoleon weresecondary things in the eyes of the sportsmen--and the sportsmen inthose days made a large half of the population. In the club of thepatrician and the plebeian gin-shop, in the coffee-house of themerchant or the barrack of the soldier, in London or the provinces, the same question was interesting the whole nation. Every west-country coach brought up word of the fine condition of Crab Wilson, who had returned to his own native air for his training, and wasknown to be under the immediate care of Captain Barclay, the expert. On the other hand, although my uncle had not yet named his man, there was no doubt amongst the public that Jim was to be hisnominee, and the report of his physique and of his performance foundhim many backers. On the whole, however, the betting was in favourof Wilson, for Bristol and the west country stood by him to a man, whilst London opinion was divided. Three to two were to be had onWilson at any West End club two days before the battle. 

I had twice been down to Crawley to see Jim in his trainingquarters, where I found him undergoing the severe regimen which wasusual. From early dawn until nightfall he was running, jumping, striking a bladder which swung upon a bar, or sparring with hisformidable trainer. His eyes shone and his skin glowed withexuberent health, and he was so confident of success that my ownmisgivings vanished as I watched his gallant bearing and listened tohis quiet and cheerful words. 

"But I wonder that you should come and see me now, Rodney, " said he, when we parted, trying to laugh as he spoke. "I have become abruiser and your uncle's paid man, whilst you are a Corinthian upontown. If you had not been the best and truest little gentleman inthe world, you would have been my patron instead of my friend beforenow. "

When I looked at this splendid fellow, with his high-bred, clean-cutface, and thought of the fine qualities and gentle, generousimpulses which I knew to lie within him, it seemed so absurd that heshould speak as though my friendship towards him were acondescension, that I could not help laughing aloud. 

"That is all very well, Rodney, " said he, looking hard into my eyes. "But what does your uncle think about it?"

This was a poser, and I could only answer lamely enough that, muchas I was indebted to my uncle, I had known Jim first, and that I wassurely old enough to choose my own friends. 

Jim's misgivings were so far correct that my uncle did very stronglyobject to any intimacy between us; but there were so many otherpoints in which he disapproved of my conduct, that it made the lessdifference. I fear that he was already disappointed in me. I wouldnot develop an eccentricity, although he was good enough to pointout several by which I might "come out of the ruck, " as he expressedit, and so catch the attention of the strange world in which helived. 

"You are an active young fellow, nephew, " said he. "Do you notthink that you could engage to climb round the furniture of anordinary room without setting foot upon the ground? Some littletour-de-force of the sort is in excellent taste. There was acaptain in the Guards who attained considerable social success bydoing it for a small wager. Lady Lieven, who is exceedinglyexigeant, used to invite him to her evenings merely that he mightexhibit it. "

I had to assure him that the feat would be beyond me. 

"You are just a little difficile, " said he, shrugging his shoulders. "As my nephew, you might have taken your position by perpetuating myown delicacy of taste. If you had made bad taste your enemy, theworld of fashion would willingly have looked upon you as an arbiterby virtue of your family traditions, and you might without astruggle have stepped into the position to which this young upstartBrummell aspires. But you have no instinct in that direction. Youare incapable of minute attention to detail. Look at your shoes!Look at your cravat! Look at your watch-chain! Two links areenough to show. I HAVE shown three, but it was an indiscretion. Atthis moment I can see no less than five of yours. I regret it, nephew, but I do not think that you are destined to attain thatposition which I have a right to expect from my blood relation. "

"I am sorry to be a disappointment to you, sir, " said I. 

"It is your misfortune not to have come under my influence earlier, "said he. "I might then have moulded you so as to have satisfiedeven my own aspirations. I had a younger brother whose case was asimilar one. I did what I could for him, but he would wear ribbonsin his shoes, and he publicly mistook white Burgundy for Rhine wine. Eventually the poor fellow took to books, and lived and died in acountry vicarage. He was a good man, but he was commonplace, andthere is no place in society for commonplace people. "

"Then I fear, sir, that there is none for me, " said I. "But myfather has every hope that Lord Nelson will find me a position inthe fleet. If I have been a failure in town, I am none the lessconscious of your kindness in trying to advance my interests, and Ihope that, should I receive my commission, I may be a credit to youyet. "

"It is possible that you may attain the very spot which I had markedout for you, but by another road, " said my uncle. "There are manymen in town, such as Lord St. Vincent, Lord Hood, and others, whomove in the most respectable circles, although they have nothing buttheir services in the Navy to recommend them. "

It was on the afternoon of the day before the fight that thisconversation took place between my uncle and myself in the daintysanctum of his Jermyn-Street house. He was clad, I remember, in hisflowing brocade dressing-gown, as was his custom before he set offfor his club, and his foot was extended upon a stool--for Abernethyhad just been in to treat him for an incipient attack of the gout. It may have been the pain, or it may have been his disappointment atmy career, but his manner was more testy than was usual with him, and I fear that there was something of a sneer in his smile as hespoke of my deficiencies. For my own part I was relieved at theexplanation, for my father had left London in the full convictionthat a vacancy would speedily be found for us both, and the onething which had weighed upon my mind was that I might have found ithard to leave my uncle without interfering with the plans which hehad formed. I was heart-weary of this empty life, for which I wasso ill-fashioned, and weary also of that intolerant talk which wouldmake a coterie of frivolous women and foolish fops the central pointof the universe. Something of my uncle's sneer may have flickeredupon my lips as I heard him allude with supercilious surprise to thepresence in those sacrosanct circles of the men who had stoodbetween the country and destruction. 

"By the way, nephew, " said he, "gout or no gout, and whetherAbernethy likes it or not, we must be down at Crawley to-night. Thebattle will take place upon Crawley Downs. Sir Lothian Hume and hisman are at Reigate. I have reserved beds at the George for both ofus. The crush will, it is said, exceed anything ever known. Thesmell of these country inns is always most offensive to me--mais quevoulez-vous? Berkeley Craven was saying in the club last night thatthere is not a bed within twenty miles of Crawley which is notbespoke, and that they are charging three guineas for the night. Ihope that your young friend, if I must describe him as such, willfulfil the promise which he has shown, for I have rather more uponthe event than I care to lose. Sir Lothian has been plunging also--he made a single bye-bet of five thousand to three upon Wilson inLimmer's yesterday. From what I hear of his affairs it will be aserious matter for him if we should pull it off. Well, Lorimer?"

"A person to see you, Sir Charles, " said the new valet. 

"You know that I never see any one until my dressing is complete. "

"He insists upon seeing you, sir. He pushed open the door. "

"Pushed it open! What d'you mean, Lorimer? Why didn't you put himout?"

A smile passed over the servant's face. At the same moment therecame a deep voice from the passage. 

"You show me in this instant, young man, d'ye 'ear? Let me see yourmaster, or it'll be the worse for you. "

I thought that I had heard the voice before, but when, over theshoulder of the valet, I caught a glimpse of a large, fleshy, bull-face, with a flattened Michael Angelo nose in the centre of it, Iknew at once that it was my neighbour at the supper party. 

"It's Warr, the prizefighter, sir, " said I. 

"Yes, sir, " said our visitor, pushing his huge form into the room. "It's Bill Warr, landlord of the One Ton public-'ouse, JermynStreet, and the gamest man upon the list. There's only one thingthat ever beat me, Sir Charles, and that was my flesh, which creepsover me that amazin' fast that I've always got four stone that 'asno business there. Why, sir, I've got enough to spare to make afeather-weight champion out of. You'd 'ardly think, to look at me, that even after Mendoza fought me I was able to jump the four-footropes at the ring-side just as light as a little kiddy; but if I wasto chuck my castor into the ring now I'd never get it till the windblew it out again, for blow my dicky if I could climb after. Myrespec's to you, young sir, and I 'ope I see you well. "

My uncle's face had expressed considerable disgust at this invasionof his privacy, but it was part of his position to be on good termswith the fighting-men, so he contented himself with asking curtlywhat business had brought him there. For answer the hugeprizefighter looked meaningly at the valet. 

"It's important, Sir Charles, and between man and man, " said he. 

"You may go, Lorimer. Now, Warr, what is the matter?"

The bruiser very calmly seated himself astride of a chair with hisarms resting upon the back of it. 

"I've got information, Sir Charles, " said he. 

"Well, what is it?" cried my uncle, impatiently. 

"Information of value. "

"Out with it, then!"

"Information that's worth money, " said Warr, and pursed up his lips. 

"I see. You want to be paid for what you know?"

The prizefighter smiled an affirmative. 

"Well, I don't buy things on trust. You should know me better thanto try on such a game with me. "

"I know you for what you are, Sir Charles, and that is a noble, slap-up Corinthian. But if I was to use this against you, d'ye see, it would be worth 'undreds in my pocket. But my 'eart won't let medo it, for Bill Warr's always been on the side o' good sport andfair play. If I use it for you, then I expect that you won't see methe loser. "

"You can do what you like, " said my uncle. "If your news is ofservice to me, I shall know how to treat you. "

"You can't say fairer than that. We'll let it stand there, gov'nor, and you'll do the 'andsome thing, as you 'ave always 'ad the namefor doin'. Well, then, your man, Jim 'Arisen, fights Crab Wilson, of Gloucester, at Crawley Down to-morrow mornin' for a stake. "

"What of that?"

"Did you 'appen to know what the bettin' was yesterday?"

"It was three to two on Wilson. "

"Right you are, gov'nor. Three to two was offered in my own bar-parlour. D'you know what the bettin' is to-day?"

"I have not been out yet. "

"Then I'll tell you. It's seven to one against your man. "

"What?"

"Seven to one, gov'nor, no less. "

"You're talking nonsense, Warr! How could the betting change fromthree to two to seven to one?"

"Ive been to Tom Owen's, and I've been to the 'Ole in the Wall, andI've been to the Waggon and 'Orses, and you can get seven to one inany of them. There's tons of money being laid against your man. It's a 'orse to a 'en in every sportin' 'ouse and boozin' ken from'ere to Stepney. "

For a moment the expression upon my uncle's face made me realizethat this match was really a serious matter to him. Then heshrugged his shoulders with an incredulous smile. 

"All the worse for the fools who give the odds, " said he. "My manis all right. You saw him yesterday, nephew?"

"He was all right yesterday, sir. "

"If anything had gone wrong I should have heard. "

"But perhaps, " said Warr, "it 'as not gone wrong with 'im YET. "

"What d'you mean?"

"I'll tell you what I mean, sir. You remember Berks? You know that'e ain't to be overmuch depended on at any time, and that 'e 'ad agrudge against your man 'cause 'e laid 'im out in the coach-'ouse. Well, last night about ten o'clock in 'e comes into my bar, and thethree bloodiest rogues in London at 'is 'eels. There was Red Ike, 'im that was warned off the ring 'cause 'e fought a cross withBittoon; and there was Fightin' Yussef, who would sell 'is motherfor a seven-shillin'-bit; the third was Chris McCarthy, who is afogle-snatcher by trade, with a pitch outside the 'Aymarket Theatre. You don't often see four such beauties together, and all with asmuch as they could carry, save only Chris, who is too leary a coveto drink when there's somethin' goin' forward. For my part, Ishowed 'em into the parlour, not 'cos they was worthy of it, but'cos I knew right well they would start bashin' some of mycustomers, and maybe get my license into trouble if I left 'em inthe bar. I served 'em with drink, and stayed with 'em just to seethat they didn't lay their 'ands on the stuffed parroquet and thepictures. 

"Well, gov'nor, to cut it short, they began to talk about the fight, and they all laughed at the idea that young Jim 'Arrison could winit--all except Chris, and e' kept a-nudging and a-twitchin' at theothers until Joe Berks nearly gave him a wipe across the face for'is trouble. I saw somethin' was in the wind, and it wasn't very'ard to guess what it was--especially when Red Ike was ready to putup a fiver that Jim 'Arrison would never fight at all. So I up toget another bottle of liptrap, and I slipped round to the shutterthat we pass the liquor through from the private bar into theparlour. I drew it an inch open, and I might 'ave been at the tablewith them, I could 'ear every word that clearly. 

"There was Chris McCarthy growlin' at them for not keepin' theirtongues still, and there was Joe Berks swearin' that 'e would knock'is face in if 'e dared give 'im any of 'is lip. So Chris 'e sortof argued with them, for 'e was frightened of Berks, and 'e put itto them whether they would be fit for the job in the mornin', andwhether the gov'nor would pay the money if 'e found they 'ad beendrinkin' and were not to be trusted. This struck them sober, allthree, an' Fighting Yussef asked what time they were to start. Chris said that as long as they were at Crawley before the Georgeshut up they could work it. 'It's poor pay for a chance of a rope, 'said Red Ike. 'Rope be damned!' cried Chris, takin' a little loadedstick out of his side pocket. 'If three of you 'old him down and Ibreak his arm-bone with this, we've earned our money, and we don'trisk more'n six months' jug. ' ''E'll fight, ' said Berks. 'Well, it's the only fight 'e'll get, ' answered Chris, and that was all I'eard of it. This mornin' out I went, and I found as I told youafore that the money is goin' on to Wilson by the ton, and that noodds are too long for the layers. So it stands, gov'nor, and youknow what the meanin' of it may be better than Bill Warr can tellyou. "

"Very good, Warr, " said my uncle, rising. "I am very much obligedto you for telling me this, and I will see that you are not a loserby it. I put it down as the gossip of drunken ruffians, but nonethe less you have served me vastly by calling my attention to it. Isuppose I shall see you at the Downs to-morrow?"

"Mr. Jackson 'as asked me to be one o' the beaters-out, sir. "

"Very good. I hope that we shall have a fair and good fight. Goodday to you, and thank you. "

My uncle had preserved his jaunty demeanour as long as Warr was inthe room, but the door had hardly closed upon him before he turnedto me with a face which was more agitated than I had ever seen it. 

"We must be off for Crawley at once, nephew, " said he, ringing thebell. "There's not a moment to be lost. Lorimer, order the bays tobe harnessed in the curricle. Put the toilet things in, and tellWilliam to have it round at the door as soon as possible. "

"I'll see to it, sir, " said I, and away I ran to the mews in LittleRyder Street, where my uncle stabled his horses. The groom wasaway, and I had to send a lad in search of him, while with the helpof the livery-man I dragged the curricle from the coach-house andbrought the two mares out of their stalls. It was half an hour, orpossibly three-quarters, before everything had been found, andLorimer was already waiting in Jermyn Street with the inevitablebaskets, whilst my uncle stood in the open door of his house, cladin his long fawn-coloured driving-coat, with no sign upon his calmpale face of the tumult of impatience which must, I was sure, beraging within. 

"We shall leave you, Lorimer, " said he. "We might find it hard toget a bed for you. Keep at her head, William! Jump in, nephew. Halloa, Warr, what is the matter now?"

The prizefighter was hastening towards us as fast as his bulk wouldallow. 

"Just one word before you go, Sir Charles, " he panted. "I've just'eard in my taproom that the four men I spoke of left for Crawley atone o'clock. "

"Very good, Warr, " said my uncle, with his foot upon the step. 

"And the odds 'ave risen to ten to one. "

"Let go her head, William!"

"Just one more word, gov'nor. You'll excuse the liberty, but if Iwas you I'd take my pistols with me. "

"Thank you; I have them. "

The long thong cracked between the ears of the leader, the groomsprang for the pavement, and Jermyn Street had changed for St. James's, and that again for Whitehall with a swiftness which showedthat the gallant mares were as impatient as their master. It washalf-past four by the Parliament clock as we flew on to WestminsterBridge. There was the flash of water beneath us, and then we werebetween those two long dun-coloured lines of houses which had beenthe avenue which had led us to London. My uncle sat with tightenedlips and a brooding brow. We had reached Streatham before he brokethe silence. 

"I have a good deal at stake, nephew, " said he. 

"So have I, sir, " I answered. 

"You!" he cried, in surprise. 

"My friend, sir. "

"Ah, yes, I had forgot. You have some eccentricities, after all, nephew. You are a faithful friend, which is a rare enough thing inour circles. I never had but one friend of my own position, and he--but you've heard me tell the story. I fear it will be dark beforewe reach Crawley. "

"I fear that it will. "

"In that case we may be too late. "

"Pray God not, sir!"

"We sit behind the best cattle in England, but I fear lest we findthe roads blocked before we get to Crawley. Did you observe, nephew, that these four villains spoke in Warr's hearing of themaster who was behind them, and who was paying them for theirinfamy? Did you not understand that they were hired to cripple myman? Who, then, could have hired them? Who had an interest unlessit was--I know Sir Lothian Hume to be a desperate man. I know thathe has had heavy card losses at Watier's and White's. I know alsothat he has much at stake upon this event, and that he has plungedupon it with a rashness which made his friends think that he hadsome private reason for being satisfied as to the result. ByHeaven, it all hangs together! If it should be so--!" He relapsedinto silence, but I saw the same look of cold fierceness settle uponhis features which I had marked there when he and Sir John Lade hadraced wheel to wheel down the Godstone road. 

The sun sank slowly towards the low Surrey hills, and the shadowscrept steadily eastwards, but the whirr of the wheels and the roarof the hoofs never slackened. A fresh wind blew upon our faces, while the young leaves drooped motionless from the wayside branches. The golden edge of the sun was just sinking behind the oaks ofReigate Hill when the dripping mares drew up before the Crown atRedhill. The landlord, an old sportsman and ringsider, ran out togreet so well-known a Corinthian as Sir Charles Tregellis. 

"You know Berks, the bruiser?" asked my uncle. 

"Yes, Sir Charles. "

"Has he passed?"

"Yes, Sir Charles. It may have been about four o'clock, though withthis crowd of folk and carriages it's hard to swear to it. Therewas him, and Red Ike, and Fighting Yussef the Jew, and another, witha good bit of blood betwixt the shafts. They'd been driving herhard, too, for she was all in a lather. "

"That's ugly, nephew, " said my uncle, when we were flying onwardstowards Reigate. "If they drove so hard, it looks as though theywished to get early to work. "

"Jim and Belcher would surely be a match for the four of them, " Isuggested. 

"If Belcher were with him I should have no fear. But you cannottell what diablerie they may be up to. Let us only find him safeand sound, and I'll never lose sight of him until I see him in thering. We'll sit up on guard with our pistols, nephew, and I onlytrust that these villains may be indiscreet enough to attempt it. But they must have been very sure of success before they put theodds up to such a figure, and it is that which alarms me. "

"But surely they have nothing to win by such villainy, sir? If theywere to hurt Jim Harrison the battle could not be fought, and thebets would not be decided. "

"So it would be in an ordinary prize-battle, nephew; and it isfortunate that it should be so, or the rascals who infest the ringwould soon make all sport impossible. But here it is different. Onthe terms of the wager I lose unless I can produce a man, within theprescribed ages, who can beat Crab Wilson. You must remember that Ihave never named my man. C'est dommage, but so it is! We know whoit is and so do our opponents, but the referees and stakeholderwould take no notice of that. If we complain that Jim Harrison hasbeen crippled, they would answer that they have no officialknowledge that Jim Harrison was our nominee. It's play or pay, andthe villains are taking advantage of it. "

My uncle's fears as to our being blocked upon the road were only toowell founded, for after we passed Reigate there was such aprocession of every sort of vehicle, that I believe for the wholeeight miles there was not a horse whose nose was further than a fewfeet from the back of the curricle or barouche in front. Every roadleading from London, as well as those from Guildford in the west andTunbridge in the east, had contributed their stream of four-in-hands, gigs, and mounted sportsmen, until the whole broad Brightonhighway was choked from ditch to ditch with a laughing, singing, shouting throng, all flowing in the same direction. No man wholooked upon that motley crowd could deny that, for good or evil, thelove of the ring was confined to no class, but was a nationalpeculiarity, deeply seated in the English nature, and a commonheritage of the young aristocrat in his drag and of the roughcosters sitting six deep in their pony cart. There I saw statesmenand soldiers, noblemen and lawyers, farmers and squires, with roughsof the East End and yokels of the shires, all toiling along with theprospect of a night of discomfort before them, on the chance ofseeing a fight which might, for all that they knew, be decided in asingle round. A more cheery and hearty set of people could not beimagined, and the chaff flew about as thick as the dust clouds, while at every wayside inn the landlord and the drawers would be outwith trays of foam-headed tankards to moisten those importunatethroats. The ale-drinking, the rude good-fellowship, theheartiness, the laughter at discomforts, the craving to see thefight--all these may be set down as vulgar and trivial by those towhom they are distasteful; but to me, listening to the far-off anduncertain echoes of our distant past, they seem to have been thevery bones upon which much that is most solid and virile in thisancient race was moulded. 

But, alas for our chance of hastening onwards! Even my uncle'sskill could not pick a passage through that moving mass. We couldbut fall into our places and be content to snail along from Reigateto Horley and on to Povey Cross and over Lowfield Heath, while dayshaded away into twilight, and that deepened into night. AtKimberham Bridge the carriage-lamps were all lit, and it waswonderful, where the road curved downwards before us, to see thiswrithing serpent with the golden scales crawling before us in thedarkness. And then, at last, we saw the formless mass of the hugeCrawley elm looming before us in the gloom, and there was the broadvillage street with the glimmer of the cottage windows, and the highfront of the old George Inn, glowing from every door and pane andcrevice, in honour of the noble company who were to sleep withinthat night. 

CHAPTER XV--FOUL PLAY

My uncle's impatience would not suffer him to wait for the slowrotation which would bring us to the door, but he flung the reinsand a crown-piece to one of the rough fellows who thronged the side-walk, and pushing his way vigorously through the crowd, he made forthe entrance. As he came within the circle of light thrown by thewindows, a whisper ran round as to who this masterful gentleman withthe pale face and the driving-coat might be, and a lane was formedto admit us. I had never before understood the popularity of myuncle in the sporting world, for the folk began to huzza as wepassed with cries of "Hurrah for Buck Tregellis! Good luck to youand your man, Sir Charles! Clear a path for a bang-up nobleCorinthian!" whilst the landlord, attracted by the shouting, camerunning out to greet us. 

"Good evening, Sir Charles!" he cried. "I hope I see you well, sir, and I trust that you will find that your man does credit to theGeorge. "

"How is he?" asked my uncle, quickly. 

"Never better, sir. Looks a picture, he does--and fit to fight fora kingdom. "

My uncle gave a sigh of relief. 

"Where is he?" he asked. 

"He's gone to his room early, sir, seein' that he had some verypartic'lar business to-morrow mornin', " said the landlord, grinning. 

"Where is Belcher?"

"Here he is, in the bar parlour. "

He opened a door as he spoke, and looking in we saw a score of well-dressed men, some of whose faces had become familiar to me during myshort West End career, seated round a table upon which stood asteaming soup-tureen filled with punch. At the further end, verymuch at his ease amongst the aristocrats and exquisites whosurrounded him, sat the Champion of England, his superb figurethrown back in his chair, a flush upon his handsome face, and aloose red handkerchief knotted carelessly round his throat in thepicturesque fashion which was long known by his name. Half acentury has passed since then, and I have seen my share of fine men. Perhaps it is because I am a slight creature myself, but it is mypeculiarity that I had rather look upon a splendid man than upon anywork of Nature. Yet during all that time I have never seen a finerman than Jim Belcher, and if I wish to match him in my memory, I canonly turn to that other Jim whose fate and fortunes I am trying tolay before you. 

There was a shout of jovial greeting when my uncle's face was seenin the doorway. 

"Come in, Tregellis!" "We were expecting you!" "There's a devilledbladebone ordered. " "What's the latest from London?" "What is themeaning of the long odds against your man?" "Have the folk gonemad?" "What the devil is it all about?" They were all talking atonce. 

"Excuse me, gentlemen, " my uncle answered. "I shall be happy togive you any information in my power a little later. I have amatter of some slight importance to decide. Belcher, I would have aword with you!"

The Champion came out with us into the passage. 

"Where is your man, Belcher?"

"He has gone to his room, sir. I believe that he should have aclear twelve hours' sleep before fighting. "

"What sort of day has he had?"

"I did him lightly in the matter of exercise. Clubs, dumbbells, walking, and a half-hour with the mufflers. He'll do us all proud, sir, or I'm a Dutchman! But what in the world's amiss with thebetting? If I didn't know that he was as straight as a line, I'dha' thought he was planning a cross and laying against himself. "

"It's about that I've hurried down. I have good information, Belcher, that there has been a plot to cripple him, and that therogues are so sure of success that they are prepared to lay anythingagainst his appearance. "

Belcher whistled between his teeth. 

"I've seen no sign of anything of the kind, sir. No one has beennear him or had speech with him, except only your nephew there andmyself. "

"Four villains, with Berks at their head, got the start of us byseveral hours. It was Warr who told me. "

"What Bill Warr says is straight, and what Joe Berks does iscrooked. Who were the others, sir?"

"Red Ike, Fighting Yussef, and Chris McCarthy. "

"A pretty gang, too! Well, sir, the lad is safe, but it would be aswell, perhaps, for one or other of us to stay in his room with him. For my own part, as long as he's my charge I'm never very far away. "

"It is a pity to wake him. "

"He can hardly be asleep with all this racket in the house. Thisway, sir, and down the passage!"

We passed along the low-roofed, devious corridors of the old-fashioned inn to the back of the house. 

"This is my room, sir, " said Belcher, nodding to a door upon theright. "This one upon the left is his. " He threw it open as hespoke. "Here's Sir Charles Tregellis come to see you, Jim, " saidhe; and then, "Good Lord, what is the meaning of this?"

The little chamber lay before us brightly illuminated by a brasslamp which stood upon the table. The bedclothes had not been turneddown, but there was an indentation upon the counterpane which showedthat some one had lain there. One-half of the lattice window wasswinging on its hinge, and a cloth cap lying upon the table was theonly sign of the occupant. My uncle looked round him and shook hishead. 

"It seems that we are too late, " said he. 

"That's his cap, sir. Where in the world can he have gone to withhis head bare? I thought he was safe in his bed an hour ago. Jim!Jim!" he shouted. 

"He has certainly gone through the window, " cried my uncle. "Ibelieve these villains have enticed him out by some devilish deviceof their own. Hold the lamp, nephew. Ha! I thought so. Here arehis footmarks upon the flower-bed outside. "

The landlord, and one or two of the Corinthians from the bar-parlour, had followed us to the back of the house. Some one hadopened the side door, and we found ourselves in the kitchen garden, where, clustering upon the gravel path, we were able to hold thelamp over the soft, newly turned earth which lay between us and thewindow. 

"That's his footmark!" said Belcher. "He wore his running bootsthis evening, and you can see the nails. But what's this? Some oneelse has been here. "

"A woman!" I cried. 

"By Heaven, you're right, nephew, " said my uncle. 

Belcher gave a hearty curse. 

"He never had a word to say to any girl in the village. I tookpartic'lar notice of that. And to think of them coming in like thisat the last moment!"

"It's clear as possible, Tregellis, " said the Hon. Berkeley Craven, who was one of the company from the bar-parlour. "Whoever it wascame outside the window and tapped. You see here, and here, thesmall feet have their toes to the house, while the others are allleading away. She came to summon him, and he followed her. "

"That is perfectly certain, " said my uncle. "There's not a momentto be lost. We must divide and search in different directions, unless we can get some clue as to where they have gone. "

"There's only the one path out of the garden, " cried the landlord, leading the way. "It opens out into this back lane, which leads upto the stables. The other end of the lane goes out into the sideroad. "

The bright yellow glare from a stable lantern cut a ring suddenlyfrom the darkness, and an ostler came lounging out of the yard. 

"Who's that?" cried the landlord. 

"It's me, master! Bill Shields. "

"How long have you been there, Bill?"

"Well, master, I've been in an' out of the stables this hour back. We can't pack in another 'orse, and there's no use tryin'. Idaren't 'ardly give them their feed, for, if they was to thicken outjust ever so little--"

"See here, Bill. Be careful how you answer, for a mistake may costyou your place. Have you seen any one pass down the lane?"

"There was a feller in a rabbit-skin cap some time ago. 'E wasloiterin' about until I asked 'im what 'is business was, for Ididn't care about the looks of 'im, or the way that 'e was peepin'in at the windows. I turned the stable lantern on to 'im, but 'educked 'is face, an' I could only swear to 'is red 'ead. "

I cast a quick glance at my uncle, and I saw that the shadow haddeepened upon his face. 

"What became of him?" he asked. 

"'E slouched away, sir, an' I saw the last of 'im. "

"You've seen no one else? You didn't, for example, see a woman anda man pass down the lane together?"

"No, sir. "

"Or hear anything unusual?"

"Why, now that you mention it, sir, I did 'ear somethin'; but on anight like this, when all these London blades are in the village--"

"What was it, then?" cried my uncle, impatiently. 

"Well, sir, it was a kind of a cry out yonder as if some one 'ad got'imself into trouble. I thought, maybe, two sparks were fightin', and I took no partic'lar notice. "

"Where did it come from?"

"From the side road, yonder. "

"Was it distant?"

"No, sir; I should say it didn't come from more'n two hundredyards. "

"A single cry?"

"Well, it was a kind of screech, sir, and then I 'eard somebodydrivin' very 'ard down the road. I remember thinking that it wasstrange that any one should be driving away from Crawley on a greatnight like this. "

My uncle seized the lantern from the fellow's hand, and we alltrooped behind him down the lane. At the further end the road cutit across at right angles. Down this my uncle hastened, but hissearch was not a long one, for the glaring light fell suddenly uponsomething which brought a groan to my lips and a bitter curse tothose of Jem Belcher. Along the white surface of the dusty highwaythere was drawn a long smear of crimson, while beside this ominousstain there lay a murderous little pocket-bludgeon, such as Warr haddescribed in the morning. 

CHAPTER XVI--CRAWLEY DOWNS

All through that weary night my uncle and I, with Belcher, BerkeleyCraven, and a dozen of the Corinthians, searched the country sidefor some trace of our missing man, but save for that ill-bodingsplash upon the road not the slightest clue could be obtained as towhat had befallen him. No one had seen or heard anything of him, and the single cry in the night of which the ostler told us was theonly indication of the tragedy which had taken place. In smallparties we scoured the country as far as East Grinstead andBletchingley, and the sun had been long over the horizon before wefound ourselves back at Crawley once more with heavy hearts andtired feet. My uncle, who had driven to Reigate in the hope ofgaining some intelligence, did not return until past seven o'clock, and a glance at his face gave us the same black news which hegathered from ours. 

We held a council round our dismal breakfast-table, to which Mr. Berkeley Craven was invited as a man of sound wisdom and largeexperience in matters of sport. Belcher was half frenzied by thissudden ending of all the pains which he had taken in the training, and could only rave out threats at Berks and his companions, withterrible menaces as to what he would do when he met them. My unclesat grave and thoughtful, eating nothing and drumming his fingersupon the table, while my heart was heavy within me, and I could havesunk my face into my hands and burst into tears as I thought howpowerless I was to aid my friend. Mr. Craven, a fresh-faced, alertman of the world, was the only one of us who seemed to preserve bothhis wits and his appetite. 

"Let me see! The fight was to be at ten, was it not?" he asked. 

"It was to be. "

"I dare say it will be, too. Never say die, Tregellis! Your manhas still three hours in which to come back. "

My uncle shook his head. 

"The villains have done their work too well for that, I fear, " saidhe. 

"Well, now, let us reason it out, " said Berkeley Craven. "A womancomes and she coaxes this young man out of his room. Do you knowany young woman who had an influence over him?"

My uncle looked at me. 

"No, " said I. "I know of none. "

"Well, we know that she came, " said Berkeley Craven. "There can beno question as to that. She brought some piteous tale, no doubt, such as a gallant young man could hardly refuse to listen to. Hefell into the trap, and allowed himself to be decoyed to the placewhere these rascals were waiting for him. We may take all that asproved, I should fancy, Tregellis. "

"I see no better explanation, " said my uncle. 

"Well, then, it is obviously not the interest of these men to killhim. Warr heard them say as much. They could not make sure, perhaps, of doing so tough a young fellow an injury which wouldcertainly prevent him from fighting. Even with a broken arm hemight pull the fight off, as men have done before. There was toomuch money on for them to run any risks. They gave him a tap on thehead, therefore, to prevent his making too much resistance, and theythen drove him off to some farmhouse or stable, where they will holdhim a prisoner until the time for the fight is over. I warrant thatyou see him before to-night as well as ever he was. "

This theory sounded so reasonable that it seemed to lift a little ofthe weight from my heart, but I could see that from my uncle's pointof view it was a poor consolation. 

"I dare say you are right, Craven, " said he. 

"I am sure that I am. "

"But it won't help us to win the fight. "

"That's the point, sir, " cried Belcher. "By the Lord, I wish they'dlet me take his place, even with my left arm strapped behind me. "

"I should advise you in any case to go to the ringside, " saidCraven. "You should hold on until the last moment in the hope ofyour man turning up. "

"I shall certainly do so. And I shall protest against paying thewagers under such circumstances. "

Craven shrugged his shoulders. 

"You remember the conditions of the match, " said he. "I fear it ispay or play. No doubt the point might be submitted to the referees, but I cannot doubt that they would have to give it against you. "

We had sunk into a melancholy silence, when suddenly Belcher sprangup from the table. 

"Hark!" he cried. "Listen to that!"

"What is it?" we cried, all three. 

"The betting! Listen again!"

Out of the babel of voices and roaring of wheels outside the windowa single sentence struck sharply on our ears. 

"Even money upon Sir Charles's nominee!"

"Even money!" cried my uncle. "It was seven to one against me, yesterday. What is the meaning of this?"

"Even money either way, " cried the voice again. 

"There's somebody knows something, " said Belcher, "and there'snobody has a better right to know what it is than we. Come on, sir, and we'll get to the bottom of it. "

The village street was packed with people, for they had beensleeping twelve and fifteen in a room, whilst hundreds of gentlemenhad spent the night in their carriages. So thick was the throngthat it was no easy matter to get out of the George. A drunken man, snoring horribly in his breathing, was curled up in the passage, absolutely oblivious to the stream of people who flowed round andoccasionally over him. 

"What's the betting, boys?" asked Belcher, from the steps. 

"Even money, Jim, " cried several voices. 

"It was long odds on Wilson when last I heard. "

"Yes; but there came a man who laid freely the other way, and hestarted others taking the odds, until now you can get even money. "

"Who started it?"

"Why, that's he! The man that lies drunk in the passage. He's beenpouring it down like water ever since he drove in at six o'clock, soit's no wonder he's like that. "

Belcher stooped down and turned over the man's inert head so as toshow his features. 

"He's a stranger to me, sir. "

"And to me, " added my uncle. 

"But not to me, " I cried. "It's John Cumming, the landlord of theinn at Friar's Oak. I've known him ever since I was a boy, and Ican't be mistaken. "

"Well, what the devil can HE know about it?" said Craven. 

"Nothing at all, in all probability, " answered my uncle. "He isbacking young Jim because he knows him, and because he has morebrandy than sense. His drunken confidence set others to do thesame, and so the odds came down. "

"He was as sober as a judge when he drove in here this morning, "said the landlord. "He began backing Sir Charles's nominee from themoment he arrived. Some of the other boys took the office from him, and they very soon brought the odds down amongst them. "

"I wish he had not brought himself down as well, " said my uncle. "Ibeg that you will bring me a little lavender water, landlord, forthe smell of this crowd is appalling. I suppose you could not getany sense from this drunken fellow, nephew, or find out what it ishe knows. "

It was in vain that I rocked him by the shoulder and shouted hisname in his ear. Nothing could break in upon that sereneintoxication. 

"Well, it's a unique situation as far as my experience goes, " saidBerkeley Craven. "Here we are within a couple of hours of thefight, and yet you don't know whether you have a man to representyou. I hope you don't stand to lose very much, Tregellis. "

My uncle shrugged his shoulders carelessly, and took a pinch of hissnuff with that inimitable sweeping gesture which no man has everventured to imitate. 

"Pretty well, my boy!" said he. "But it is time that we thought ofgoing up to the Downs. This night journey has left me just a littleeffleure, and I should like half an hour of privacy to arrange mytoilet. If this is my last kick, it shall at least be with a well-brushed boot. "

I have heard a traveller from the wilds of America say that helooked upon the Red Indian and the English gentleman as closelyakin, citing the passion for sport, the aloofness and thesuppression of the emotions in each. I thought of his words as Iwatched my uncle that morning, for I believe that no victim tied tothe stake could have had a worse outlook before him. It was notmerely that his own fortunes were largely at stake, but it was thedreadful position in which he would stand before this immenseconcourse of people, many of whom had put their money upon hisjudgment, if he should find himself at the last moment with animpotent excuse instead of a champion to put before them. What asituation for a man who prided himself upon his aplomb, and uponbringing all that he undertook to the very highest standard ofsuccess! I, who knew him well, could tell from his wan cheeks andhis restless fingers that he was at his wit's ends what to do; butno stranger who observed his jaunty bearing, the flecking of hislaced handkerchief, the handling of his quizzing glass, or theshooting of his ruffles, would ever have thought that this butterflycreature could have had a care upon earth. 

It was close upon nine o'clock when we were ready to start for theDowns, and by that time my uncle's curricle was almost the onlyvehicle left in the village street. The night before they had lainwith their wheels interlocking and their shafts under each other'sbodies, as thick as they could fit, from the old church to theCrawley Elm, spanning the road five-deep for a good half-mile inlength. Now the grey village street lay before us almost desertedsave by a few women and children. Men, horses, carriages--all weregone. My uncle drew on his driving-gloves and arranged his costumewith punctilious neatness; but I observed that he glanced up anddown the road with a haggard and yet expectant eye before he tookhis seat. I sat behind with Belcher, while the Hon. Berkeley Craventook the place beside him. 

The road from Crawley curves gently upwards to the upland heather-clad plateau which extends for many miles in every direction. Strings of pedestrians, most of them so weary and dust-covered thatit was evident that they had walked the thirty miles from Londonduring the night, were plodding along by the sides of the road ortrailing over the long mottled slopes of the moorland. A horseman, fantastically dressed in green and splendidly mounted, was waitingat the crossroads, and as he spurred towards us I recognised thedark, handsome face and bold black eyes of Mendoza. 

"I am waiting here to give the office, Sir Charles, " said he. "It'sdown the Grinstead road, half a mile to the left. "

"Very good, " said my uncle, reining his mares round into the cross-road. 

"You haven't got your man there, " remarked Mendoza, with somethingof suspicion in his manner. 

"What the devil is that to you?" cried Belcher, furiously. 

"It's a good deal to all of us, for there are some funny storiesabout. "

"You keep them to yourself, then, or you may wish you had neverheard them. "

"All right, Jem! Your breakfast don't seem to have agreed with youthis morning. "

"Have the others arrived?" asked my uncle, carelessly. 

"Not yet, Sir Charles. But Tom Oliver is there with the ropes andstakes. Jackson drove by just now, and most of the ring-keepers areup. "

"We have still an hour, " remarked my uncle, as he drove on. "It ispossible that the others may be late, since they have to come fromReigate. "

"You take it like a man, Tregellis, " said Craven. "We must keep abold face and brazen it out until the last moment. "

"Of course, sir, " cried Belcher. "I'll never believe the bettingwould rise like that if somebody didn't know something. We'll holdon by our teeth and nails, Sir Charles, and see what comes of it. "

We could hear a sound like the waves upon the beach, long before wecame in sight of that mighty multitude, and then at last, on asudden dip of the road, we saw it lying before us, a whirlpool ofhumanity with an open vortex in the centre. All round, thethousands of carriages and horses were dotted over the moor, and theslopes were gay with tents and booths. A spot had been chosen forthe ring, where a great basin had been hollowed out in the ground, so that all round that natural amphitheatre a crowd of thirtythousand people could see very well what was going on in the centre. As we drove up a buzz of greeting came from the people upon thefringe which was nearest to us, spreading and spreading, until thewhole multitude had joined in the acclamation. Then an instantlater a second shout broke forth, beginning from the other side ofthe arena, and the faces which had been turned towards us whiskedround, so that in a twinkling the whole foreground changed fromwhite to dark. 

"It's they. They are in time, " said my uncle and Craven together. 

Standing up on our curricle, we could see the cavalcade approachingover the Downs. In front came a huge yellow barouche, in which satSir Lothian Hume, Crab Wilson, and Captain Barclay, his trainer. The postillions were flying canary-yellow ribands from their caps, those being the colours under which Wilson was to fight. Behind thecarriage there rode a hundred or more noblemen and gentlemen of thewest country, and then a line of gigs, tilburies, and carriageswound away down the Grinstead road as far as our eyes could followit. The big barouche came lumbering over the sward in our directionuntil Sir Lothian Hume caught sight of us, when he shouted to hispostillions to pull up. 

"Good morning, Sir Charles, " said he, springing out of the carriage. "I thought I knew your scarlet curricle. We have an excellentmorning for the battle. "

My uncle bowed coldly, and made no answer. 

"I suppose that since we are all here we may begin at once, " saidSir Lothian, taking no notice of the other's manner. 

"We begin at ten o'clock. Not an instant before. "

"Very good, if you prefer it. By the way, Sir Charles, where isyour man?"

"I would ask YOU that question, Sir Lothian, " answered my uncle. "Where is my man?"

A look of astonishment passed over Sir Lothian's features, which, ifit were not real, was most admirably affected. 

"What do you mean by asking me such a question?"

"Because I wish to know. "

"But how can I tell, and what business is it of mine?"

"I have reason to believe that you have made it your business. "

"If you would kindly put the matter a little more clearly therewould be some possibility of my understanding you. "

They were both very white and cold, formal and unimpassioned intheir bearing, but exchanging glances which crossed like rapierblades. I thought of Sir Lothian's murderous repute as a duellist, and I trembled for my uncle. 

"Now, sir, if you imagine that you have a grievance against me, youwill oblige me vastly by putting it into words. "

"I will, " said my uncle. "There has been a conspiracy to maim orkidnap my man, and I have every reason to believe that you are privyto it. "

An ugly sneer came over Sir Lothian's saturnine face. 

"I see, " said he. "Your man has not come on quite as well as youhad expected in his training, and you are hard put to it to inventan excuse. Still, I should have thought that you might have found amore probable one, and one which would entail less seriousconsequences. "

"Sir, " answered my uncle, "you are a liar, but how great a liar youare nobody knows save yourself. "

Sir Lothian's hollow cheeks grew white with passion, and I saw foran instant in his deep-set eyes such a glare as comes from thefrenzied hound rearing and ramping at the end of its chain. Then, with an effort, he became the same cold, hard, self-contained man asever. 

"It does not become our position to quarrel like two yokels at afair, " said he; "we shall go further into the matter afterwards. "

"I promise you that we shall, " answered my uncle, grimly. 

"Meanwhile, I hold you to the terms of your wager. Unless youproduce your nominee within five-and-twenty minutes, I claim thematch. "

"Eight-and-twenty minutes, " said my uncle, looking at his watch. "You may claim it then, but not an instant before. "

He was admirable at that moment, for his manner was that of a manwith all sorts of hidden resources, so that I could hardly makemyself realize as I looked at him that our position was really asdesperate as I knew it to be. In the meantime Berkeley Craven, whohad been exchanging a few words with Sir Lothian Hume, came back toour side. 

"I have been asked to be sole referee in this matter, " said he. "Does that meet with your wishes, Sir Charles?"

"I should be vastly obliged to you, Craven, if you will undertakethe duties. "

"And Jackson has been suggested as timekeeper. "

"I could not wish a better one. "

"Very good. That is settled. "

In the meantime the last of the carriages had come up, and thehorses had all been picketed upon the moor. The stragglers who haddotted the grass had closed in until the huge crowd was one unitwith a single mighty voice, which was already beginning to bellowits impatience. Looking round, there was hardly a moving objectupon the whole vast expanse of green and purple down. A belated gigwas coming at full gallop down the road which led from the south, and a few pedestrians were still trailing up from Crawley, butnowhere was there a sign of the missing man. 

"The betting keeps up for all that, " said Belcher. "I've just beento the ring-side, and it is still even. "

"There's a place for you at the outer ropes, Sir Charles, " saidCraven. 

"There is no sign of my man yet. I won't come in until he arrives. "

"It is my duty to tell you that only ten minutes are left. "

"I make it five, " cried Sir Lothian Hume. 

"That is a question which lies with the referee, " said Craven, firmly. "My watch makes it ten minutes, and ten it must be. "

"Here's Crab Wilson!" cried Belcher, and at the same moment a shoutlike a thunderclap burst from the crowd. The west countryman hademerged from his dressing-tent, followed by Dutch Sam and Tom Owen, who were acting as his seconds. He was nude to the waist, with apair of white calico drawers, white silk stockings, and runningshoes. Round his middle was a canary-yellow sash, and dainty littleribbons of the same colour fluttered from the sides of his knees. He carried a high white hat in his hand, and running down the lanewhich had been kept open through the crowd to allow persons to reachthe ring, he threw the hat high into the air, so that it fell withinthe staked inclosure. Then with a double spring he cleared theouter and inner line of rope, and stood with his arms folded in thecentre. 

I do not wonder that the people cheered. Even Belcher could nothelp joining in the general shout of applause. He was certainly asplendidly built young athlete, and one could not have wished tolook upon a finer sight as his white skin, sleek and luminous as apanther's, gleamed in the light of the morning sun, with a beautifulliquid rippling of muscles at every movement. His arms were longand slingy, his shoulders loose and yet powerful, with the downwardslant which is a surer index of power than squareness can be. Heclasped his hands behind his head, threw them aloft, and swung thembackwards, and at every movement some fresh expanse of his smooth, white skin became knobbed and gnarled with muscles, whilst a yell ofadmiration and delight from the crowd greeted each fresh exhibition. Then, folding his arms once more, he stood like a beautiful statuewaiting for his antagonist. 

Sir Lothian Hume had been looking impatiently at his watch, and nowhe shut it with a triumphant snap. 

"Time's up!" he cried. "The match is forfeit. "

"Time is not up, " said Craven. 

"I have still five minutes. " My uncle looked round with despairingeyes. 

"Only three, Tregellis!"

A deep angry murmur was rising from the crowd. 

"It's a cross! It's a cross! It's a fake!" was the cry. 

"Two minutes, Tregellis!"

"Where's your man, Sir Charles? Where's the man that we havebacked?" Flushed faces began to crane over each other, and angryeyes glared up at us. 

"One more minute, Tregellis! I am very sorry, but it will be myduty to declare it forfeit against you. "

There was a sudden swirl in the crowd, a rush, a shout, and high upin the air there spun an old black hat, floating over the heads ofthe ring-siders and flickering down within the ropes. 

"Saved, by the Lord!" screamed Belcher. 

"I rather fancy, " said my uncle, calmly, "that this must be my man. "

"Too late!" cried Sir Lothian. 

"No, " answered the referee. "It was still twenty seconds to thehour. The fight will now proceed. "

CHAPTER XVII--THE RING-SIDE

Out of the whole of that vast multitude I was one of the very fewwho had observed whence it was that this black hat, skimming soopportunely over the ropes, had come. I have already remarked thatwhen we looked around us there had been a single gig travelling veryrapidly upon the southern road. My uncle's eyes had rested upon it, but his attention had been drawn away by the discussion between SirLothian Hume and the referee upon the question of time. For my ownpart, I had been so struck by the furious manner in which thesebelated travellers were approaching, that I had continued to watchthem with all sorts of vague hopes within me, which I did not dareto put into words for fear of adding to my uncle's disappointments. I had just made out that the gig contained a man and a woman, whensuddenly I saw it swerve off the road, and come with a gallopinghorse and bounding wheels right across the moor, crashing throughthe gorse bushes, and sinking down to the hubs in the heather andbracken. As the driver pulled up his foam-spattered horse, he threwthe reins to his companion, sprang from his seat, butted furiouslyinto the crowd, and then an instant afterwards up went the hat whichtold of his challenge and defiance. 

"There is no hurry now, I presume, Craven, " said my uncle, as coollyas if this sudden effect had been carefully devised by him. 

"Now that your man has his hat in the ring you can take as much timeas you like, Sir Charles. "

"Your friend has certainly cut it rather fine, nephew. "

"It is not Jim, sir, " I whispered. "It is some one else. "

My uncle's eyebrows betrayed his astonishment. 

"Some one else!" he ejaculated. 

"And a good man too!" roared Belcher, slapping his thigh with acrack like a pistol-shot. "Why, blow my dickey if it ain't old JackHarrison himself!"

Looking down at the crowd, we had seen the head and shoulders of apowerful and strenuous man moving slowly forward, and leaving behindhim a long V-shaped ripple upon its surface like the wake of aswimming dog. Now, as he pushed his way through the looser fringethe head was raised, and there was the grinning, hardy face of thesmith looking up at us. He had left his hat in the ring, and wasenveloped in an overcoat with a blue bird's-eye handkerchief tiedround his neck. As he emerged from the throng he let his great-coatfly loose, and showed that he was dressed in his full fighting kit--black drawers, chocolate stockings, and white shoes. 

"I'm right sorry to be so late, Sir Charles, " he cried. "I'd havebeen sooner, but it took me a little time to make it all straightwith the missus. I couldn't convince her all at once, an' so Ibrought her with me, and we argued it out on the way. "

Looking at the gig, I saw that it was indeed Mrs. Harrison who wasseated in it. Sir Charles beckoned him up to the wheel of thecurricle. 

"What in the world brings you here, Harrison?" he whispered. "I amas glad to see you as ever I was to see a man in my life, but Iconfess that I did not expect you. "

"Well, sir, you heard I was coming, " said the smith. 

"Indeed, I did not. "

"Didn't you get a message, Sir Charles, from a man named Cumming, landlord of the Friar's Oak Inn? Mister Rodney there would knowhim. "

"We saw him dead drunk at the George. "

"There, now, if I wasn't afraid of it!" cried Harrison, angrily. "He's always like that when he's excited, and I never saw a man moreoff his head than he was when he heard I was going to take this jobover. He brought a bag of sovereigns up with him to back me with. "

"That's how the betting got turned, " said my uncle. "He foundothers to follow his lead, it appears. "

"I was so afraid that he might get upon the drink that I made himpromise to go straight to you, sir, the very instant he shouldarrive. He had a note to deliver. "

"I understand that he reached the George at six, whilst I did notreturn from Reigate until after seven, by which time I have no doubtthat he had drunk his message to me out of his head. But where isyour nephew Jim, and how did you come to know that you would beneeded?"

"It is not his fault, I promise you, that you should be left in thelurch. As to me, I had my orders to take his place from the onlyman upon earth whose word I have never disobeyed. "

"Yes, Sir Charles, " said Mrs. Harrison, who had left the gig andapproached us. "You can make the most of it this time, for neveragain shall you have my Jack--not if you were to go on your kneesfor him. "

"She's not a patron of sport, and that's a fact, " said the smith. 

"Sport!" she cried, with shrill contempt and anger. "Tell me whenall is over. "

She hurried away, and I saw her afterwards seated amongst thebracken, her back turned towards the multitude, and her hands overher ears, cowering and wincing in an agony of apprehension. 

Whilst this hurried scene had been taking place, the crowd hadbecome more and more tumultuous, partly from their impatience at thedelay, and partly from their exuberant spirits at the unexpectedchance of seeing so celebrated a fighting man as Harrison. Hisidentity had already been noised abroad, and many an elderlyconnoisseur plucked his long net-purse out of his fob, in order toput a few guineas upon the man who would represent the school of thepast against the present. The younger men were still in favour ofthe west-countryman, and small odds were to be had either way inproportion to the number of the supporters of each in the differentparts of the crowd. 

In the mean time Sir Lothian Hume had come bustling up to theHonourable Berkeley Craven, who was still standing near ourcurricle. 

"I beg to lodge a formal protest against these proceedings, " saidhe. 

"On what grounds, sir?"

"Because the man produced is not the original nominee of Sir CharlesTregellis. "

"I never named one, as you are well aware, " said my uncle. 

"The betting has all been upon the understanding that young JimHarrison was my man's opponent. Now, at the last moment, he iswithdrawn and another and more formidable man put into his place. "

"Sir Charles Tregellis is quite within his rights, " said Craven, firmly. "He undertook to produce a man who should be within the agelimits stipulated, and I understand that Harrison fulfils all theconditions. You are over five-and-thirty, Harrison?"

"Forty-one next month, master. "

"Very good. I direct that the fight proceed. "

But alas! there was one authority which was higher even than that ofthe referee, and we were destined to an experience which was theprelude, and sometimes the conclusion, also, of many an old-timefight. Across the moor there had ridden a black-coated gentleman, with buff-topped hunting-boots and a couple of grooms behind him, the little knot of horsemen showing up clearly upon the curvingswells and then dipping down into the alternate hollows. Some ofthe more observant of the crowd had glanced suspiciously at thisadvancing figure, but the majority had not observed him at all untilhe reined up his horse upon a knoll which overlooked theamphitheatre, and in a stentorian voice announced that herepresented the Custos rotulorum of His Majesty's county of Sussex, that he proclaimed this assembly to be gathered together for anillegal purpose, and that he was commissioned to disperse it byforce, if necessary. 

Never before had I understood that deep-seated fear and wholesomerespect which many centuries of bludgeoning at the hands of the lawhad beaten into the fierce and turbulent natives of these islands. Here was a man with two attendants upon one side, and on the otherthirty thousand very angry and disappointed people, many of themfighters by profession, and some from the roughest and mostdangerous classes in the country. And yet it was the single man whoappealed confidently to force, whilst the huge multitude swayed andmurmured like a mutinous fierce-willed creature brought face to facewith a power against which it knew that there was neither argumentnor resistance. My uncle, however, with Berkeley Craven, Sir JohnLade, and a dozen other lords and gentlemen, hurried across to theinterrupter of the sport. 

"I presume that you have a warrant, sir?" said Craven. 

"Yes, sir, I have a warrant. "

"Then I have a legal right to inspect it. "

The magistrate handed him a blue paper which the little knot ofgentlemen clustered their heads over, for they were mostlymagistrates themselves, and were keenly alive to any possible flawin the wording. At last Craven shrugged his shoulders, and handedit back. 

"This seems to be correct, sir, " said he. 

"It is entirely correct, " answered the magistrate, affably. "Toprevent waste of your valuable time, gentlemen, I may say, once forall, that it is my unalterable determination that no fight shall, under any circumstances, be brought off in the county over which Ihave control, and I am prepared to follow you all day in order toprevent it. "

To my inexperience this appeared to bring the whole matter to aconclusion, but I had underrated the foresight of those who arrangethese affairs, and also the advantages which made Crawley Down sofavourite a rendezvous. There was a hurried consultation betweenthe principals, the backers, the referee, and the timekeeper. 

"It's seven miles to Hampshire border and about two to Surrey, " saidJackson. The famous Master of the Ring was clad in honour of theoccasion in a most resplendent scarlet coat worked in gold at thebuttonholes, a white stock, a looped hat with a broad black band, buff knee-breeches, white silk stockings, and paste buckles--acostume which did justice to his magnificent figure, and especiallyto those famous "balustrade" calves which had helped him to be thefinest runner and jumper as well as the most formidable pugilist inEngland. His hard, high-boned face, large piercing eyes, andimmense physique made him a fitting leader for that rough andtumultuous body who had named him as their commander-in-chief. 

"If I might venture to offer you a word of advice, " said the affableofficial, "it would be to make for the Hampshire line, for Sir JamesFord, on the Surrey border, has as great an objection to suchassemblies as I have, whilst Mr. Merridew, of Long Hall, who is theHampshire magistrate, has fewer scruples upon the point. "

"Sir, " said my uncle, raising his hat in his most impressive manner, "I am infinitely obliged to you. With the referee's permission, there is nothing for it but to shift the stakes. "

In an instant a scene of the wildest animation had set in. Tom Owenand his assistant, Fogo, with the help of the ring-keepers, pluckedup the stakes and ropes, and carried them off across country. CrabWilson was enveloped in great coats, and borne away in the barouche, whilst Champion Harrison took Mr. Craven's place in our curricle. Then, off the huge crowd started, horsemen, vehicles, andpedestrians, rolling slowly over the broad face of the moorland. The carriages rocked and pitched like boats in a seaway, as theylumbered along, fifty abreast, scrambling and lurching overeverything which came in their way. Sometimes, with a snap and athud, one axle would come to the ground, whilst a wheel reeled offamidst the tussocks of heather, and roars of delight greeted theowners as they looked ruefully at the ruin. Then as the gorseclumps grew thinner, and the sward more level, those on foot beganto run, the riders struck in their spurs, the drivers cracked theirwhips, and away they all streamed in the maddest, wildest cross-country steeplechase, the yellow barouche and the crimson curricle, which held the two champions, leading the van. 

"What do you think of your chances, Harrison?" I heard my uncle ask, as the two mares picked their way over the broken ground. 

"It's my last fight, Sir Charles, " said the smith. "You heard themissus say that if she let me off this time I was never to askagain. I must try and make it a good one. "

"But your training?"

"I'm always in training, sir. I work hard from morning to night, and I drink little else than water. I don't think that CaptainBarclay can do much better with all his rules. "

"He's rather long in the reach for you. "

"I've fought and beat them that were longer. If it comes to a rallyI should hold my own, and I should have the better of him at athrow. "

"It's a match of youth against experience. Well, I would not hedgea guinea of my money. But, unless he was acting under force, Icannot forgive young Jim for having deserted me. "

"He WAS acting under force, Sir Charles. "

"You have seen him, then?"

"No, master, I have not seen him. "

"You know where he is?"

"Well, it is not for me to say one way or the other. I can onlytell you that he could not help himself. But here's the beak a-comin' for us again. "

The ominous figure galloped up once more alongside of our curricle, but this time his mission was a more amiable one. 

"My jurisdiction ends at that ditch, sir, " said he. "I should fancythat you could hardly wish a better place for a mill than thesloping field beyond. I am quite sure that no one will interferewith you there. "

His anxiety that the fight should be brought off was in suchcontrast to the zeal with which he had chased us from his county, that my uncle could not help remarking upon it. 

"It is not for a magistrate to wink at the breaking of the law, sir, " he answered. "But if my colleague of Hampshire has noscruples about its being brought off within his jurisdiction, Ishould very much like to see the fight, " with which he spurred hishorse up an adjacent knoll, from which he thought that he might gainthe best view of the proceedings. 

And now I had a view of all those points of etiquette and curioussurvivals of custom which are so recent, that we have not yetappreciated that they may some day be as interesting to the socialhistorian as they then were to the sportsman. A dignity was givento the contest by a rigid code of ceremony, just as the clash ofmail-clad knights was prefaced and adorned by the calling of theheralds and the showing of blazoned shields. To many in thoseancient days the tourney may have seemed a bloody and brutal ordeal, but we who look at it with ample perspective see that it was a rudebut gallant preparation for the conditions of life in an iron age. And so also, when the ring has become as extinct as the lists, wemay understand that a broader philosophy would show that all things, which spring up so naturally and spontaneously, have a function tofulfil, and that it is a less evil that two men should, of their ownfree will, fight until they can fight no more than that the standardof hardihood and endurance should run the slightest risk of beinglowered in a nation which depends so largely upon the individualqualities of her citizens for her defence. Do away with war, if thecursed thing can by any wit of man be avoided, but until you seeyour way to that, have a care in meddling with those primitivequalities to which at any moment you may have to appeal for your ownprotection. 

Tom Owen and his singular assistant, Fogo, who combined thefunctions of prize-fighter and of poet, though, fortunately forhimself, he could use his fists better than his pen, soon had thering arranged according to the rules then in vogue. The whitewooden posts, each with the P. C. Of the pugilistic club printed uponit, were so fixed as to leave a square of 24 feet within the ropedenclosure. Outside this ring an outer one was pitched, eight feetseparating the two. The inner was for the combatants and for theirseconds, while in the outer there were places for the referee, thetimekeeper, the backers, and a few select and fortunate individuals, of whom, through being in my uncle's company, I was one. Sometwenty well-known prize-fighters, including my friend Bill Warr, Black Richmond, Maddox, The Pride of Westminster, Tom Belcher, Paddington Jones, Tough Tom Blake, Symonds the ruffian, Tyne thetailor, and others, were stationed in the outer ring as beaters. These fellows all wore the high white hats which were at that timemuch affected by the fancy, and they were armed with horse-whips, silver-mounted, and each bearing the P. C. Monogram. Did any one, beit East End rough or West End patrician, intrude within the outerropes, this corp of guardians neither argued nor expostulated, butthey fell upon the offender and laced him with their whips until heescaped back out of the forbidden ground. Even with so formidable aguard and such fierce measures, the beaters-out, who had to checkthe forward heaves of a maddened, straining crowd, were often asexhausted at the end of a fight as the principals themselves. Inthe mean time they formed up in a line of sentinels, presentingunder their row of white hats every type of fighting face, from thefresh boyish countenances of Tom Belcher, Jones, and the otheryounger recruits, to the scarred and mutilated visages of theveteran bruisers. 

Whilst the business of the fixing of the stakes and the fastening ofthe ropes was going forward, I from my place of vantage could hearthe talk of the crowd behind me, the front two rows of which werelying upon the grass, the next two kneeling, and the others standingin serried ranks all up the side of the gently sloping hill, so thateach line could just see over the shoulders of that which was infront. There were several, and those amongst the most experienced, who took the gloomiest view of Harrison's chances, and it made myheart heavy to overhear them. 

"It's the old story over again, " said one. "They won't bear in mindthat youth will be served. They only learn wisdom when it's knockedinto them. "

"Ay, ay, " responded another. "That's how Jack Slack thrashedBoughton, and I myself saw Hooper, the tinman, beat to pieces by thefighting oilman. They all come to it in time, and now it'sHarrison's turn. "

"Don't you be so sure about that!" cried a third. "I've seen JackHarrison fight five times, and I never yet saw him have the worse ofit. He's a slaughterer, and so I tell you. "

"He was, you mean. "

"Well, I don't see no such difference as all that comes to, and I'mputting ten guineas on my opinion. "

"Why, " said a loud, consequential man from immediately behind me, speaking with a broad western burr, "vrom what I've zeen of thisyoung Gloucester lad, I doan't think Harrison could have stoodbevore him for ten rounds when he vas in his prime. I vas coming upin the Bristol coach yesterday, and the guard he told me that he hadvifteen thousand pound in hard gold in the boot that had been zentup to back our man. "

"They'll be in luck if they see their money again, " said another. "Harrison's no lady's-maid fighter, and he's blood to the bone. He'd have a shy at it if his man was as big as Carlton House. "

"Tut, " answered the west-countryman. "It's only in Bristol andGloucester that you can get men to beat Bristol and Gloucester. "

"It's like your damned himpudence to say so, " said an angry voicefrom the throng behind him. "There are six men in London that wouldhengage to walk round the best twelve that hever came from thewest. "

The proceedings might have opened by an impromptu bye-battle betweenthe indignant cockney and the gentleman from Bristol, but aprolonged roar of applause broke in upon their altercation. It wascaused by the appearance in the ring of Crab Wilson, followed byDutch Sam and Mendoza carrying the basin, sponge, brandy-bladder, and other badges of their office. As he entered Wilson pulled thecanary-yellow handkerchief from his waist, and going to the cornerpost, he tied it to the top of it, where it remained fluttering inthe breeze. He then took a bundle of smaller ribands of the samecolour from his seconds, and walking round, he offered them to thenoblemen and Corinthians at half-a-guinea apiece as souvenirs of thefight. His brisk trade was only brought to an end by the appearanceof Harrison, who climbed in a very leisurely manner over the ropes, as befitted his more mature years and less elastic joints. The yellwhich greeted him was even more enthusiastic than that which hadheralded Wilson, and there was a louder ring of admiration in it, for the crowd had already had their opportunity of seeing Wilson'sphysique, whilst Harrison's was a surprise to them. 

I had often looked upon the mighty arms and neck of the smith, but Ihad never before seen him stripped to the waist, or understood themarvellous symmetry of development which had made him in his youththe favourite model of the London sculptors. There was none of thatwhite sleek skin and shimmering play of sinew which made Wilson abeautiful picture, but in its stead there was a rugged grandeur ofknotted and tangled muscle, as though the roots of some old treewere writhing from breast to shoulder, and from shoulder to elbow. Even in repose the sun threw shadows from the curves of his skin, but when he exerted himself every muscle bunched itself up, distinctand hard, breaking his whole trunk into gnarled knots of sinew. Hisskin, on face and body, was darker and harsher than that of hisyouthful antagonist, but he looked tougher and harder, an effectwhich was increased by the sombre colour of his stockings andbreeches. He entered the ring, sucking a lemon, with Jim Belcherand Caleb Baldwin, the coster, at his heels. Strolling across tothe post, he tied his blue bird's-eye handkerchief over the west-countryman's yellow, and then walked to his opponent with his handout. 

"I hope I see you well, Wilson, " said he. 

"Pretty tidy, I thank you, " answered the other. "We'll speak toeach other in a different vashion, I 'spects, afore we part. "

"But no ill-feeling, " said the smith, and the two fighting mengrinned at each other as they took their own corners. 

"May I ask, Mr. Referee, whether these two men have been weighed?"asked Sir Lothian Hume, standing up in the outer ring. 

"Their weight has just been taken under my supervision, sir, "answered Mr. Craven. "Your man brought the scale down at thirteen-three, and Harrison at thirteen-eight. "

"He's a fifteen-stoner from the loins upwards, " cried Dutch Sam, from his corner. 

"We'll get some of it off him before we finish. "

"You'll get more off him than ever you bargained for, " answered JimBelcher, and the crowd laughed at the rough chaff. 

CHAPTER XVIII--THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE

"Clear the outer ring!" cried Jackson, standing up beside the ropeswith a big silver watch in his hand. 

"Ss-whack! ss-whack! ss-whack!" went the horse-whips--for a numberof the spectators, either driven onwards by the pressure behind orwilling to risk some physical pain on the chance of getting a betterview, had crept under the ropes and formed a ragged fringe withinthe outer ring. Now, amidst roars of laughter from the crowd and ashower of blows from the beaters-out, they dived madly back, withthe ungainly haste of frightened sheep blundering through a gap intheir hurdles. Their case was a hard one, for the folk in frontrefused to yield an inch of their places--but the arguments from therear prevailed over everything else, and presently every franticfugitive had been absorbed, whilst the beaters-out took their standsalong the edge at regular intervals, with their whips held down bytheir thighs. 

"Gentlemen, " cried Jackson, again, "I am requested to inform youthat Sir Charles Tregellis's nominee is Jack Harrison, fighting atthirteen-eight, and Sir Lothian Hume's is Crab Wilson, at thirteen-three. No person can be allowed at the inner ropes save the refereeand the timekeeper. I have only to beg that, if the occasion shouldrequire it, you will all give me your assistance to keep the groundclear, to prevent confusion, and to have a fair fight. All ready?"

"All ready!" from both corners. 

"Time!"

There was a breathless hush as Harrison, Wilson, Belcher, and DutchSam walked very briskly into the centre of the ring. The two menshook hands, whilst their seconds did the same, the four handscrossing each other. Then the seconds dropped back, and the twochampions stood toe to toe, with their hands up. 

It was a magnificent sight to any one who had not lost his sense ofappreciation of the noblest of all the works of Nature. Both menfulfilled that requisite of the powerful athlete that they shouldlook larger without their clothes than with them. In ring slang, they buffed well. And each showed up the other's points on accountof the extreme contrast between them: the long, loose-limbed, deer-footed youngster, and the square-set, rugged veteran with his trunklike the stump of an oak. The betting began to rise upon theyounger man from the instant that they were put face to face, forhis advantages were obvious, whilst those qualities which hadbrought Harrison to the top in his youth were only a memory in theminds of the older men. All could see the three inches extra ofheight and two of reach which Wilson possessed, and a glance at thequick, cat-like motions of his feet, and the perfect poise of hisbody upon his legs, showed how swiftly he could spring either in orout from his slower adversary. But it took a subtler insight toread the grim smile which flickered over the smith's mouth, or thesmouldering fire which shone in his grey eyes, and it was only theold-timers who knew that, with his mighty heart and his iron frame, he was a perilous man to lay odds against. 

Wilson stood in the position from which he had derived his nickname, his left hand and left foot well to the front, his body sloped veryfar back from his loins, and his guard thrown across his chest, butheld well forward in a way which made him exceedingly hard to getat. The smith, on the other hand, assumed the obsolete attitudewhich Humphries and Mendoza introduced, but which had not for tenyears been seen in a first-class battle. Both his knees wereslightly bent, he stood square to his opponent, and his two bigbrown fists were held over his mark so that he could lead equallywith either. Wilson's hands, which moved incessantly in and out, had been stained with some astringent juice with the purpose ofpreventing them from puffing, and so great was the contrast betweenthem and his white forearms, that I imagined that he was wearingdark, close-fitting gloves until my uncle explained the matter in awhisper. So they stood in a quiver of eagerness and expectation, whilst that huge multitude hung so silently and breathlessly uponevery motion that they might have believed themselves to be alone, man to man, in the centre of some primeval solitude. 

It was evident from the beginning that Crab Wilson meant to throw nochance away, and that he would trust to his lightness of foot andquickness of hand until he should see something of the tactics ofthis rough-looking antagonist. He paced swiftly round severaltimes, with little, elastic, menacing steps, whilst the smithpivoted slowly to correspond. Then, as Wilson took a backward stepto induce Harrison to break his ground and follow him, the older mangrinned and shook his head. 

"You must come to me, lad, " said he. "I'm too old to scamper roundthe ring after you. But we have the day before us, and I'll wait. "

He may not have expected his invitation to be so promptly answered;but in an instant, with a panther spring, the west-countryman was onhim. Smack! smack! smack! Thud! thud! The first three were onHarrison's face, the last two were heavy counters upon Wilson'sbody. Back danced the youngster, disengaging himself in beautifulstyle, but with two angry red blotches over the lower line of hisribs. "Blood for Wilson!" yelled the crowd, and as the smith facedround to follow the movements of his nimble adversary, I saw with athrill that his chin was crimson and dripping. In came Wilson againwith a feint at the mark and a flush hit on Harrison's cheek; then, breaking the force of the smith's ponderous right counter, hebrought the round to a conclusion by slipping down upon the grass. 

"First knock-down for Harrison!" roared a thousand voices, for tentimes as many pounds would change hands upon the point. 

"I appeal to the referee!" cried Sir Lothian Hume. "It was a slip, and not a knock-down. "

"I give it a slip, " said Berkeley Craven, and the men walked totheir corners, amidst a general shout of applause for a spirited andwell-contested opening round. Harrison fumbled in his mouth withhis finger and thumb, and then with a sharp half-turn he wrenchedout a tooth, which he threw into the basin. "Quite like old times, "said he to Belcher. 

"Have a care, Jack!" whispered the anxious second. "You got rathermore than you gave. "

"Maybe I can carry more, too, " said he serenely, whilst CalebBaldwin mopped the big sponge over his face, and the shining bottomof the tin basin ceased suddenly to glimmer through the water. 

I could gather from the comments of the experienced Corinthiansaround me, and from the remarks of the crowd behind, that Harrison'schance was thought to have been lessened by this round. 

"I've seen his old faults and I haven't seen his old merits, " saidSir John Lade, our opponent of the Brighton Road. "He's as slow onhis feet and with his guard as ever. Wilson hit him as he liked. "

"Wilson may hit him three times to his once, but his one is worthWilson's three, " remarked my uncle. "He's a natural fighter and theother an excellent sparrer, but I don't hedge a guinea. "

A sudden hush announced that the men were on their feet again, andso skilfully had the seconds done their work, that neither looked ajot the worse for what had passed. Wilson led viciously with hisleft, but misjudged his distance, receiving a smashing counter onthe mark in reply which sent him reeling and gasping to the ropes. "Hurrah for the old one!" yelled the mob, and my uncle laughed andnudged Sir John Lade. The west-countryman smiled, and shook himselflike a dog from the water as with a stealthy step he came back tothe centre of the ring, where his man was still standing. Bang cameHarrison's right upon the mark once more, but Crab broke the blowwith his elbow, and jumped laughing away. Both men were a littlewinded, and their quick, high breathing, with the light patter oftheir feet as they danced round each other, blended into onecontinuous, long-drawn sound. Two simultaneous exchanges with theleft made a clap like a pistol-shot, and then as Harrison rushed infor a fall, Wilson slipped him, and over went my old friend upon hisface, partly from the impetus of his own futile attack, and partlyfrom a swinging half-arm blow which the west-countryman brought homeupon his ear as he passed. 

"Knock-down for Wilson, " cried the referee, and the answering roarwas like the broadside of a seventy-four. Up went hundreds of curlybrimmed Corinthian hats into the air, and the slope before us was abank of flushed and yelling faces. My heart was cramped with myfears, and I winced at every blow, yet I was conscious also of anabsolute fascination, with a wild thrill of fierce joy and a certainexultation in our common human nature which could rise above painand fear in its straining after the very humblest form of fame. 

Belcher and Baldwin had pounced upon their man, and had him up andin his corner in an instant, but, in spite of the coolness withwhich the hardy smith took his punishment, there was immenseexultation amongst the west-countrymen. 

"We've got him! He's beat! He's beat!" shouted the two Jewseconds. "It's a hundred to a tizzy on Gloucester!"

"Beat, is he?" answered Belcher. "You'll need to rent this fieldbefore you can beat him, for he'll stand a month of that kind offly-flappin'. " He was swinging a towel in front of Harrison as hespoke, whilst Baldwin mopped him with the sponge. 

"How is it with you, Harrison?" asked my uncle. 

"Hearty as a buck, sir. It's as right as the day. "

The cheery answer came with so merry a ring that the clouds clearedfrom my uncle's face. 

"You should recommend your man to lead more, Tregellis, " said SirJohn Lade. "He'll never win it unless he leads. "

"He knows more about the game than you or I do, Lade. I'll let himtake his own way. "

"The betting is three to one against him now, " said a gentleman, whose grizzled moustache showed that he was an officer of the latewar. 

"Very true, General Fitzpatrick. But you'll observe that it is theraw young bloods who are giving the odds, and the Sheenies who aretaking them. I still stick to my opinion. "

The two men came briskly up to the scratch at the call of time, thesmith a little lumpy on one side of his head, but with the samegood-humoured and yet menacing smile upon his lips. As to Wilson, he was exactly as he had begun in appearance, but twice I saw himclose his lips sharply as if he were in a sudden spasm of pain, andthe blotches over his ribs were darkening from scarlet to a sullenpurple. He held his guard somewhat lower to screen this vulnerablepoint, and he danced round his opponent with a lightness whichshowed that his wind had not been impaired by the body-blows, whilstthe smith still adopted the impassive tactics with which he hadcommenced. 

Many rumours had come up to us from the west as to Crab Wilson'sfine science and the quickness of his hitting, but the truthsurpassed what had been expected of him. In this round and the twowhich followed he showed a swiftness and accuracy which oldringsiders declared that Mendoza in his prime had never surpassed. He was in and out like lightning, and his blows were heard and feltrather than seen. But Harrison still took them all with the samedogged smile, occasionally getting in a hard body-blow in return, for his adversary's height and his position combined to keep hisface out of danger. At the end of the fifth round the odds werefour to one, and the west-countrymen were riotous in theirexultation. 

"What think you now?" cried the west-countryman behind me, and inhis excitement he could get no further save to repeat over and overagain, "What think you now?" When in the sixth round the smith waspeppered twice without getting in a counter, and had the worst ofthe fall as well, the fellow became inarticulate altogether, andcould only huzza wildly in his delight. Sir Lothian Hume wassmiling and nodding his head, whilst my uncle was coldly impassive, though I was sure that his heart was as heavy as mine. 

"This won't do, Tregellis, " said General Fitzpatrick. "My money ison the old one, but the other is the finer boxer. "

"My man is un peu passe, but he will come through all right, "answered my uncle. 

I saw that both Belcher and Baldwin were looking grave, and I knewthat we must have a change of some sort, or the old tale of youthand age would be told once more. 

The seventh round, however, showed the reserve strength of the hardyold fighter, and lengthened the faces of those layers of odds whohad imagined that the fight was practically over, and that a fewfinishing rounds would have given the smith his coup-de-grace. Itwas clear when the two men faced each other that Wilson had madehimself up for mischief, and meant to force the fighting andmaintain the lead which he had gained, but that grey gleam was notquenched yet in the veteran's eyes, and still the same smile playedover his grim face. He had become more jaunty, too, in the swing ofhis shoulders and the poise of his head, and it brought myconfidence back to see the brisk way in which he squared up to hisman. 

Wilson led with his left, but was short, and he only just avoided adangerous right-hander which whistled in at his ribs. "Bravo, old'un, one of those will be a dose of laudanum if you get it home, "cried Belcher. There was a pause of shuffling feet and hardbreathing, broken by the thud of a tremendous body blow from Wilson, which the smith stopped with the utmost coolness. Then again a fewseconds of silent tension, when Wilson led viciously at the head, but Harrison took it on his forearm, smiling and nodding at hisopponent. "Get the pepper-box open!" yelled Mendoza, and Wilsonsprang in to carry out his instructions, but was hit out again by aheavy drive on the chest. "Now's the time! Follow it up!" criedBelcher, and in rushed the smith, pelting in his half-arm blows, andtaking the returns without a wince, until Crab Wilson went downexhausted in the corner. Both men had their marks to show, butHarrison had all the best of the rally, so it was our turn to throwour hats into the air and to shout ourselves hoarse, whilst theseconds clapped their man upon his broad back as they hurried him tohis corner. 

"What think you now?" shouted all the neighbours of the west-countryman, repeating his own refrain. 

"Why, Dutch Sam never put in a better rally, " cried Sir John Lade. "What's the betting now, Sir Lothian?"

"I have laid all that I intend; but I don't think my man can loseit. " For all that, the smile had faded from his face, and Iobserved that he glanced continually over his shoulder into thecrowd behind him. 

A sullen purple cloud had been drifting slowly up from the south-west--though I dare say that out of thirty thousand folk there werevery few who had spared the time or attention to mark it. Now itsuddenly made its presence apparent by a few heavy drops of rain, thickening rapidly into a sharp shower, which filled the air withits hiss, and rattled noisily upon the high, hard hats of theCorinthians. Coat-collars were turned up and handkerchiefs tiedround. Necks, whilst the skins of the two men glistened with themoisture as they stood up to each other once more. I noticed thatBelcher whispered very earnestly into Harrison's ear as he rose fromhis knee, and that the smith nodded his head curtly, with the air ofa man who understands and approves of his orders. 

And what those orders were was instantly apparent. Harrison was tobe turned from the defender into the attacker. The result of therally in the last round had convinced his seconds that when it cameto give-and-take hitting, their hardy and powerful man was likely tohave the better of it. And then on the top of this came the rain. With the slippery grass the superior activity of Wilson would beneutralized, and he would find it harder to avoid the rushes of hisopponent. It was in taking advantage of such circumstances that theart of ringcraft lay, and many a shrewd and vigilant second had wona losing battle for his man. "Go in, then! Go in!" whooped the twoprize-fighters, while every backer in the crowd took up the roar. 

And Harrison went in, in such fashion that no man who saw him do itwill ever forget it. Crab Wilson, as game as a pebble, met him witha flush hit every time, but no human strength or human scienceseemed capable of stopping the terrible onslaught of this iron man. Round after round he scrambled his way in, slap-bang, right andleft, every hit tremendously sent home. Sometimes he covered hisown face with his left, and sometimes he disdained to use any guardat all, but his springing hits were irresistible. The rain lasheddown upon them, pouring from their faces and running in crimsontrickles over their bodies, but neither gave any heed to it save tomanoeuvre always with the view of bringing it in to each other'seyes. But round after round the west-countryman fell, and roundafter round the betting rose, until the odds were higher in ourfavour than ever they had been against us. With a sinking heart, filled with pity and admiration for these two gallant men, I longedthat every bout might be the last, and yet the "Time!" was hardlyout of Jackson's mouth before they had both sprung from theirsecond's knees, with laughter upon their mutilated faces andchaffing words upon their bleeding lips. It may have been a humbleobject-lesson, but I give you my word that many a time in my life Ihave braced myself to a hard task by the remembrance of that morningupon Crawley Downs, asking myself if my manhood were so weak that Iwould not do for my country, or for those whom I loved, as much asthese two would endure for a paltry stake and for their own creditamongst their fellows. Such a spectacle may brutalize those who arebrutal, but I say that there is a spiritual side to it also, andthat the sight of the utmost human limit of endurance and courage isone which bears a lesson of its own. 

But if the ring can breed bright virtues, it is but a partisan whocan deny that it can be the mother of black vices also, and we weredestined that morning to have a sight of each. It so chanced that, as the battle went against his man, my eyes stole round very oftento note the expression upon Sir Lothian Hume's face, for I knew howfearlessly he had laid the odds, and I understood that his fortunesas well as his champion were going down before the smashing blows ofthe old bruiser. The confident smile with which he had watched theopening rounds had long vanished from his lips, and his cheeks hadturned of a sallow pallor, whilst his small, fierce grey eyes lookedfurtively from under his craggy brows, and more than once he burstinto savage imprecations when Wilson was beaten to the ground. Butespecially I noticed that his chin was always coming round to hisshoulder, and that at the end of every round he sent keen littleglances flying backwards into the crowd. For some time, amidst theimmense hillside of faces which banked themselves up on the slopebehind us, I was unable to pick out the exact point at which hisgaze was directed. But at last I succeeded in following it. A verytall man, who showed a pair of broad, bottle-green shoulders highabove his neighbours, was looking very hard in our direction, and Iassured myself that a quick exchange of almost imperceptible signalswas going on between him and the Corinthian baronet. I becameconscious, also, as I watched this stranger, that the cluster of menaround him were the roughest elements of the whole assembly:fierce, vicious-looking fellows, with cruel, debauched faces, whohowled like a pack of wolves at every blow, and yelled execrationsat Harrison whenever he walked across to his corner. So turbulentwere they that I saw the ringkeepers whisper together and glance upin their direction, as if preparing for trouble in store, but noneof them had realized how near it was to breaking out, or howdangerous it might prove. 

Thirty rounds had been fought in an hour and twenty-five minutes, and the rain was pelting down harder than ever. A thick steam rosefrom the two fighters, and the ring was a pool of mud. Repeatedfalls had turned the men brown, with a horrible mottling of crimsonblotches. Round after round had ended by Crab Wilson going down, and it was evident, even to my inexperienced eyes, that he wasweakening rapidly. He leaned heavily upon the two Jews when theyled him to his corner, and he reeled when their support waswithdrawn. Yet his science had, through long practice, become anautomatic thing with him, so that he stopped and hit with lesspower, but with as great accuracy as ever. Even now a casualobserver might have thought that he had the best of the battle, forthe smith was far the more terribly marked, but there was a wildstare in the west-countryman's eyes, and a strange catch in hisbreathing, which told us that it is not the most dangerous blowwhich shows upon the surface. A heavy cross-buttock at the end ofthe thirty-first round shook the breath from his body, and he cameup for the thirty-second with the same jaunty gallantry as ever, butwith the dazed expression of a man whose wind has been utterlysmashed. 

"He's got the roly-polies, " cried Belcher. "You have it your ownway now!"

"I'll vight for a week yet, " gasped Wilson. 

"Damme, I like his style, " cried Sir John Lade. "No shifting, nothing shy, no hugging nor hauling. It's a shame to let him fight. Take the brave fellow away!"

"Take him away! Take him away!" echoed a hundred voices. 

"I won't be taken away! Who dares say so?" cried Wilson, who wasback, after another fall, upon his second's knee. 

"His heart won't suffer him to cry enough, " said GeneralFitzpatrick. "As his patron, Sir Lothian, you should direct thesponge to be thrown up. "

"You think he can't win it?"

"He is hopelessly beat, sir. "

"You don't know him. He's a glutton of the first water. "

"A gamer man never pulled his shirt off; but the other is too strongfor him. "

"Well, sir, I believe that he can fight another ten rounds. " Hehalf turned as he spoke, and I saw him throw up his left arm with asingular gesture into the air. 

"Cut the ropes! Fair play! Wait till the rain stops!" roared astentorian voice behind me, and I saw that it came from the big manwith the bottle-green coat. His cry was a signal, for, like athunderclap, there came a hundred hoarse voices shouting together:"Fair play for Gloucester! Break the ring! Break the ring!"

Jackson had called "Time, " and the two mud-plastered men werealready upon their feet, but the interest had suddenly changed fromthe fight to the audience. A succession of heaves from the back ofthe crowd had sent a series of long ripples running through it, allthe heads swaying rhythmically in the one direction like awheatfield in a squall. With every impulsion the oscillationincreased, those in front trying vainly to steady themselves againstthe rushes from behind, until suddenly there came a sharp snap, twowhite stakes with earth clinging to their points flew into the outerring, and a spray of people, dashed from the solid wave behind, werethrown against the line of the beaters-out. Down came the longhorse-whips, swayed by the most vigorous arms in England; but thewincing and shouting victims had no sooner scrambled back a fewyards from the merciless cuts, before a fresh charge from the rearhurled them once more into the arms of the prize-fighters. Manythrew themselves down upon the turf and allowed successive waves topass over their bodies, whilst others, driven wild by the blows, returned them with their hunting-crops and walking-canes. And then, as half the crowd strained to the left and half to the right toavoid the pressure from behind, the vast mass was suddenly reft intwain, and through the gap surged the rough fellows from behind, allarmed with loaded sticks and yelling for "Fair play and Gloucester!"Their determined rush carried the prize-fighters before them, theinner ropes snapped like threads, and in an instant the ring was aswirling, ' seething mass of figures, whips and sticks falling andclattering, whilst, face to face, in the middle of it all, so wedgedthat they could neither advance nor retreat, the smith and the west-countryman continued their long-drawn battle as oblivious of thechaos raging round them as two bulldogs would have been who had goteach other by the throat. The driving rain, the cursing and screamsof pain, the swish of the blows, the yelling of orders and advice, the heavy smell of the damp cloth--every incident of that scene ofmy early youth comes back to me now in my old age as clearly as ifit had been but yesterday. 

It was not easy for us to observe anything at the time, however, forwe were ourselves in the midst of the frantic crowd, swaying aboutand carried occasionally quite off our feet, but endeavouring tokeep our places behind Jackson and Berkeley Craven, who, with sticksand whips meeting over their heads, were still calling the roundsand superintending the fight. 

"The ring's broken!" shouted Sir Lothian Hume. "I appeal to thereferee! The fight is null and void. "

"You villain!" cried my uncle, hotly; "this is your doing. "

"You have already an account to answer for with me, " said Hume, withhis sinister sneer, and as he spoke he was swept by the rush of thecrowd into my uncle's very arms. The two men's faces were not morethan a few inches apart, and Sir Lothian's bold eyes had to sinkbefore the imperious scorn which gleamed coldly in those of myuncle. 

"We will settle our accounts, never fear, though I degrade myself inmeeting such a blackleg. What is it, Craven?"

"We shall have to declare a draw, Tregellis. "

"My man has the fight in hand. "

"I cannot help it. I cannot attend to my duties when every moment Iam cut over with a whip or a stick. "

Jackson suddenly made a wild dash into the crowd, but returned withempty hands and a rueful face. 

"They've stolen my timekeeper's watch, " he cried. "A little covesnatched it out of my hand. "

My uncle clapped his hand to his fob. 

"Mine has gone also!" he cried. 

"Draw it at once, or your man will get hurt, " said Jackson, and wesaw that as the undaunted smith stood up to Wilson for anotherround, a dozen rough fellows were clustering round him withbludgeons. 

"Do you consent to a draw, Sir Lothian Hume?"

"I do. "

"And you, Sir Charles?"

"Certainly not. "

"The ring is gone. "

"That is no fault of mine. "

"Well, I see no help for it. As referee I order that the men bewithdrawn, and that the stakes be returned to their owners. "

"A draw! A draw!" shrieked every one, and the crowd in an instantdispersed in every direction, the pedestrians running to get a goodlead upon the London road, and the Corinthians in search of theirhorses and carriages. Harrison ran over to Wilson's corner andshook him by the hand. 

"I hope I have not hurt you much. "

"I'm hard put to it to stand. How are you?"

"My head's singin' like a kettle. It was the rain that helped me. "

"Yes, I thought I had you beat one time. I never wish a betterbattle. "

"Nor me either. Good-bye. "

And so those two brave-hearted fellows made their way amidst theyelping roughs, like two wounded lions amidst a pack of wolves andjackals. I say again that, if the ring has fallen low, it is not inthe main the fault of the men who have done the fighting, but itlies at the door of the vile crew of ring-side parasites andruffians, who are as far below the honest pugilist as the welsherand the blackleg are below the noble racehorse which serves them asa pretext for their villainies. 

CHAPTER XIX--CLIFFE ROYAL

My uncle was humanely anxious to get Harrison to bed as soon aspossible, for the smith, although he laughed at his own injuries, had none the less been severely punished. 

"Don't you dare ever to ask my leave to fight again, Jack Harrison, "said his wife, as she looked ruefully at his battered face. "Why, it's worse than when you beat Black Baruk; and if it weren't foryour topcoat, I couldn't swear you were the man who led me to thealtar! If the King of England ask you, I'll never let you do itmore. "

"Well, old lass, I give my davy that I never will. It's best that Ileave fightin' before fightin' leaves me. " He screwed up his faceas he took a sup from Sir Charles's brandy flask. "It's fineliquor, sir, but it gets into my cut lips most cruel. Why, here'sJohn Cummings of the Friars' Oak Inn, as I'm a sinner, and seekin'for a mad doctor, to judge by the look of him!"

It was certainly a most singular figure who was approaching us overthe moor. With the flushed, dazed face of a man who is justrecovering from recent intoxication, the landlord was tearing madlyabout, his hat gone, and his hair and beard flying in the wind. Heran in little zigzags from one knot of people to another, whilst hispeculiar appearance drew a running fire of witticisms as he went, sothat he reminded me irresistibly of a snipe skimming along through aline of guns. We saw him stop for an instant by the yellowbarouche, and hand something to Sir Lothian Hume. Then on he cameagain, until at last, catching sight of us, he gave a cry of joy, and ran for us full speed with a note held out at arm's length. 

"You're a nice cove, too, John Cummings, " said Harrison, reproachfully. "Didn't I tell you not to let a drop pass your lipsuntil you had given your message to Sir Charles?"

"I ought to be pole-axed, I ought, " he cried in bitter repentance. "I asked for you, Sir Charles, as I'm a livin' man, I did, but youweren't there, and what with bein' so pleased at gettin' such oddswhen I knew Harrison was goin' to fight, an' what with the landlordat the George wantin' me to try his own specials, I let my senses goclean away from me. And now it's only after the fight is over thatI see you, Sir Charles, an' if you lay that whip over my back, it'sonly what I deserve. "

But my uncle was paying no attention whatever to the voluble self-reproaches of the landlord. He had opened the note, and was readingit with a slight raising of the eyebrows, which was almost the veryhighest note in his limited emotional gamut. 

"What make you of this, nephew?" he asked, handing it to me. 

This was what I read -

"SIR CHARLES TREGELLIS, "For God's sake, come at once, when this reaches you, to CliffeRoyal, and tarry as little as possible upon the way. You will seeme there, and you will hear much which concerns you deeply. I prayyou to come as soon as may be; and until then I remain him whom youknew as

"JAMES HARRISON. "

"Well, nephew?" asked my uncle. 

"Why, sir, I cannot tell what it may mean. "

"Who gave it to you, sirrah?"

"It was young Jim Harrison himself, sir, " said the landlord, "thoughindeed I scarce knew him at first, for he looked like his own ghost. He was so eager that it should reach you that he would not leave meuntil the horse was harnessed and I started upon my way. There wasone note for you and one for Sir Lothian Hume, and I wish to God hehad chosen a better messenger!"

"This is a mystery indeed, " said my uncle, bending his brows overthe note. "What should he be doing at that house of ill-omen? Andwhy does he sign himself 'him whom you knew as Jim Harrison?' Bywhat other style should I know him? Harrison, you can throw a lightupon this. You, Mrs. Harrison; I see by your face that youunderstand it. "

"Maybe we do, Sir Charles; but we are plain folk, my Jack and I, andwe go as far as we see our way, and when we don't see our way anylonger, we just stop. We've been goin' this twenty year, but nowwe'll draw aside and let our betters get to the front; so if youwish to find what that note means, I can only advise you to do whatyou are asked, and to drive over to Cliffe Royal, where you willfind out. "

My uncle put the note into his pocket. 

"I don't move until I have seen you safely in the hands of thesurgeon, Harrison. "

"Never mind for me, sir. The missus and me can drive down toCrawley in the gig, and a yard of stickin' plaster and a raw steakwill soon set me to rights. "

But my uncle was by no means to be persuaded, and he drove the pairinto Crawley, where the smith was left under the charge of his wifein the very best quarters which money could procure. Then, after ahasty luncheon, we turned the mares' heads for the south. 

"This ends my connection with the ring, nephew, " said my uncle. "Iperceive that there is no possible means by which it can be keptpure from roguery. I have been cheated and befooled; but a manlearns wisdom at last, and never again do I give countenance to aprize-fight. "

Had I been older or he less formidable, I might have said what wasin my heart, and begged him to give up other things also--to comeout from those shallow circles in which he lived, and to find somework that was worthy of his strong brain and his good heart. Butthe thought had hardly formed itself in my mind before he haddropped his serious vein, and was chatting away about some newsilver-mounted harness which he intended to spring upon the Mall, and about the match for a thousand guineas which he meant to makebetween his filly Ethelberta and Lord Doncaster's famous three-year-old Aurelius. 

We had got as far as Whiteman's Green, which is rather more thanmidway between Crawley Down and Friars' Oak, when, lookingbackwards, I saw far down the road the gleam of the sun upon a highyellow carriage. Sir Lothian Hume was following us. 

"He has had the same summons as we, and is bound for the samedestination, " said my uncle, glancing over his shoulder at thedistant barouche. "We are both wanted at Cliffe Royal--we, the twosurvivors of that black business. And it is Jim Harrison of allpeople who calls us there. Nephew, I have had an eventful life, butI feel as if the very strangest scene of it were waiting for meamong those trees. "

He whipped up the mares, and now from the curve of the road we couldsee the high dark pinnacles of the old Manor-house shooting up abovethe ancient oaks which ring it round. The sight of it, with itsbloodstained and ghost-blasted reputation, would in itself have beenenough to send a thrill through my nerves; but when the words of myuncle made me suddenly realize that this strange summons was indeedfor the two men who were concerned in that old-world tragedy, andthat it was the playmate of my youth who had sent it, I caught mybreath as I seemed vaguely to catch a glimpse of some portentousthing forming itself in front of us. The rusted gates between thecrumbling heraldic pillars were folded back, and my uncle flickedthe mares impatiently as we flew up the weed-grown avenue, until hepulled them on their haunches before the time-blotched steps. Thefront door was open, and Boy Jim was waiting there to meet us. 

But it was a different Boy Jim from him whom I had known and loved. There was a change in him somewhere, a change so marked that it wasthe first thing that I noticed, and yet so subtle that I could notput words to it. He was not better dressed than of old, for I wellknew the old brown suit that he wore. 

He was not less comely, for his training had left him the very modelof what a man should be. And yet there was a change, a touch ofdignity in the expression, a suggestion of confidence in the bearingwhich seemed, now that it was supplied, to be the one thing whichhad been needed to give him harmony and finish. 

Somehow, in spite of his prowess, his old school name of "Boy" hadclung very naturally to him, until that instant when I saw himstanding in his self-contained and magnificent manhood in thedoorway of the ancient house. A woman stood beside him, her handresting upon his shoulder, and I saw that it was Miss Hinton ofAnstey Cross. 

"You remember me, Sir Charles Tregellis, " said she, coming forward, as we sprang down from the curricle. 

My uncle looked hard at her with a puzzled face. 

"I do not think that I have the privilege, madame. And yet--"

"Polly Hinton, of the Haymarket. You surely cannot have forgottenPolly Hinton. "

"Forgotten! Why, we have mourned for you in Fops' Alley for moreyears than I care to think of. But what in the name of wonder--"

"I was privately married, and I retired from the stage. I want youto forgive me for taking Jim away from you last night. "

"It was you, then?"

"I had a stronger claim even than you could have. You were hispatron; I was his mother. " She drew his head down to hers as shespoke, and there, with their cheeks together, were the two faces, the one stamped with the waning beauty of womanhood, the other withthe waxing strength of man, and yet so alike in the dark eyes, theblue-black hair and the broad white brow, that I marvelled that Ihad never read her secret on the first days that I had seen themtogether. "Yes, " she cried, "he is my own boy, and he saved me fromwhat is worse than death, as your nephew Rodney could tell you. Yetmy lips were sealed, and it was only last night that I could tellhim that it was his mother whom he had brought back by hisgentleness and his patience into the sweetness of life. "

"Hush, mother!" said Jim, turning his lips to her cheek. "There aresome things which are between ourselves. But tell me, Sir Charles, how went the fight?"

"Your uncle would have won it, but the roughs broke the ring. "

"He is no uncle of mine, Sir Charles, but he has been the best andtruest friend, both to me and to my father, that ever the worldcould offer. I only know one as true, " he continued, taking me bythe hand, "and dear old Rodney Stone is his name. But I trust hewas not much hurt?"

"A week or two will set him right. But I cannot pretend tounderstand how this matter stands, and you must allow me to say thatI have not heard you advance anything yet which seems to me tojustify you in abandoning your engagements at a moment's notice. "

"Come in, Sir Charles, and I am convinced that you will acknowledgethat I could not have done otherwise. But here, if I mistake not, is Sir Lothian Hume. "

The yellow barouche had swung into the avenue, and a few momentslater the weary, panting horses had pulled up behind our curricle. Sir Lothian sprang out, looking as black as a thunder-cloud. 

"Stay where you are, Corcoran, " said he; and I caught a glimpse of abottle-green coat which told me who was his travelling companion. "Well, " he continued, looking round him with an insolent stare, "Ishould vastly like to know who has had the insolence to give me sopressing an invitation to visit my own house, and what in the devilyou mean by daring to trespass upon my grounds?"

"I promise you that you will understand this and a good deal morebefore we part, Sir Lothian, " said Jim, with a curious smile playingover his face. "If you will follow me, I will endeavour to make itall clear to you. "

With his mother's hand in his own, he led us into that ill-omenedroom where the cards were still heaped upon the sideboard, and thedark shadow lurked in the corner of the ceiling. 

"Now, sirrah, your explanation!" cried Sir Lothian, standing withhis arms folded by the door. 

"My first explanations I owe to you, Sir Charles, " said Jim; and asI listened to his voice and noted his manner, I could not but admirethe effect which the company of her whom he now knew to be hismother had had upon a rude country lad. "I wish to tell you whatoccurred last night. "

"I will tell it for you, Jim, " said his mother. "You must know, SirCharles, that though my son knew nothing of his parents, we wereboth alive, and had never lost sight of him. For my part, I let himhave his own way in going to London and in taking up this challenge. It was only yesterday that it came to the ears of his father, whowould have none of it. He was in the weakest health, and his wisheswere not to be gainsayed. He ordered me to go at once and to bringhis son to his side. I was at my wit's end, for I was sure that Jimwould never come unless a substitute were provided for him. I wentto the kind, good couple who had brought him up, and I told them howmatters stood. Mrs. Harrison loved Jim as if he had been her ownson, and her husband loved mine, so they came to my help, and mayGod bless them for their kindness to a distracted wife and mother!Harrison would take Jim's place if Jim would go to his father. ThenI drove to Crawley. I found out which was Jim's room, and I spoketo him through the window, for I was sure that those who had backedhim would not let him go. I told him that I was his mother. I toldhim who was his father. I said that I had my phaeton ready, andthat he might, for all I knew, be only in time to receive the dyingblessing of that parent whom he had never known. Still the boywould not go until he had my assurance that Harrison would take hisplace. "

"Why did he not leave a message with Belcher?"

"My head was in a whirl, Sir Charles. To find a father and amother, a new name and a new rank in a few minutes might turn astronger brain than ever mine was. My mother begged me to come withher, and I went. The phaeton was waiting, but we had scarcelystarted when some fellow seized the horses' heads, and a couple ofruffians attacked us. One of them I beat over the head with thebutt of the whip, so that he dropped the cudgel with which he wasabout to strike me; then lashing the horse, I shook off the othersand got safely away. I cannot imagine who they were or why theyshould molest us. "

"Perhaps Sir Lothian Hume could tell you, " said my uncle. 

Our enemy said nothing; but his little grey eyes slid round with amost murderous glance in our direction. 

"After I had come here and seen my father I went down--"

My uncle stopped him with a cry of astonishment. 

"What did you say, young man? You came here and you saw yourfather--here at Cliffe Royal?"

"Yes, sir. "

My uncle had turned very pale. 

"In God's name, then, tell us who your father is!"

Jim made no answer save to point over our shoulders, and glancinground, we became aware that two people had entered the room throughthe door which led to the bedroom stair. The one I recognized in aninstant. That impassive, mask-like face and demure manner couldonly belong to Ambrose, the former valet of my uncle. The other wasa very different and even more singular figure. He was a tall man, clad in a dark dressing-gown, and leaning heavily upon a stick. Hislong, bloodless countenance was so thin and so white that it gavethe strangest illusion of transparency. Only within the folds of ashroud have I ever seen so wan a face. The brindled hair and therounded back gave the impression of advanced age, and it was onlythe dark brows and the bright alert eyes glancing out from beneaththem which made me doubt whether it was really an old man who stoodbefore us. 

There was an instant of silence, broken by a deep oath from SirLothian Hume -

"Lord Avon, by God!" he cried. 

"Very much at your service, gentlemen, " answered the strange figurein the dressing-gown. 

CHAPTER XX--LORD AVON

My uncle was an impassive man by nature and had become more so bythe tradition of the society in which he lived. He could haveturned a card upon which his fortune depended without the twitch ofa muscle, and I had seen him myself driving to imminent death on theGodstone Road with as calm a face as if he were out for his dailyairing in the Mall. But now the shock which had come upon him wasso great that he could only stand with white cheeks and staring, incredulous eyes. Twice I saw him open his lips, and twice he puthis hand up to his throat, as though a barrier had risen betwixthimself and his utterance. Finally, he took a sudden little runforward with both his hands thrown out in greeting. 

"Ned!" he cried. 

But the strange man who stood before him folded his arms over hisbreast. 

"No Charles, " said he. 

My uncle stopped and looked at him in amazement. 

"Surely, Ned, you have a greeting for me after all these years?"

"You believed me to have done this deed, Charles. I read it in youreyes and in your manner on that terrible morning. You never askedme for an explanation. You never considered how impossible such acrime must be for a man of my character. At the first breath ofsuspicion you, my intimate friend, the man who knew me best, set medown as a thief and a murderer. "

"No, no, Ned. "

"You did, Charles; I read it in your eyes. And so it was that whenI wished to leave that which was most precious to me in safe hands Ihad to pass you over and to place him in the charge of the one manwho from the first never doubted my innocence. Better a thousandtimes that my son should be brought up in a humble station and inignorance of his unfortunate father, than that he should learn toshare the doubts and suspicions of his equals. "

"Then he is really your son!" cried my uncle, staring at Jim inamazement. 

For answer the man stretched out his long withered arm, and placed agaunt hand upon the shoulder of the actress, whilst she looked up athim with love in her eyes. 

"I married, Charles, and I kept it secret from my friends, for I hadchosen my wife outside our own circles. You know the foolish pridewhich has always been the strongest part of my nature. I could notbear to avow that which I had done. It was this neglect upon mypart which led to an estrangement between us, and drove her intohabits for which it is I who am to blame and not she. Yet onaccount of these same habits I took the child from her and gave heran allowance on condition that she did not interfere with it. I hadfeared that the boy might receive evil from her, and had neverdreamed in my blindness that she might get good from him. But Ihave learned in my miserable life, Charles, that there is a powerwhich fashions things for us, though we may strive to thwart it, andthat we are in truth driven by an unseen current towards a certaingoal, however much we may deceive ourselves into thinking that it isour own sails and oars which are speeding us upon our way. "

My eyes had been upon the face of my uncle as he listened, but nowas I turned them from him they fell once more upon the thin, wolfishface of Sir Lothian Hume. He stood near the window, his greysilhouette thrown up against the square of dusty glass; and I havenever seen such a play of evil passions, of anger, of jealousy, ofdisappointed greed upon a human face before. 

"Am I to understand, " said he, in a loud, harsh voice, "that thisyoung man claims to be the heir of the peerage of Avon?"

"He is my lawful son. "

"I knew you fairly well, sir, in our youth; but you will allow me toobserve that neither I nor any friend of yours ever heard of a wifeor a son. I defy Sir Charles Tregellis to say that he ever dreamedthat there was any heir except myself. "

"I have already explained, Sir Lothian, why I kept my marriagesecret. "

"You have explained, sir; but it is for others in another place tosay if that explanation is satisfactory. "

Two blazing dark eyes flashed out of the pale haggard face with asstrange and sudden an effect as if a stream of light were to beatthrough the windows of a shattered and ruined house. 

"You dare to doubt my word?"

"I demand a proof. "

"My word is proof to those who know me. "

"Excuse me, Lord Avon; but I know you, and I see no reason why Ishould accept your statement. "

It was a brutal speech, and brutally delivered. Lord Avon staggeredforward, and it was only his son on one aide and his wife on theother who kept his quivering hands from the throat of his insulter. Sir Lothian recoiled from the pale fierce face with the black brows, but he still glared angrily about the room. 

"A very pretty conspiracy this, " he cried, "with a criminal, anactress, and a prize-fighter all playing their parts. Sir CharlesTregellis, you shall hear from me again! And you also, my lord!"He turned upon his heel and strode from the room. 

"He has gone to denounce me, " said Lord Avon, a spasm of woundedpride distorting his features. 

"Shall I bring him back?" cried Boy Jim. 

"No, no, let him go. It is as well, for I have already made up mymind that my duty to you, my son, outweighs that which I owe, andhave at such bitter cost fulfilled, to my brother and my family. "

"You did me an injustice, Ned, " said my uncle, "if you thought thatI had forgotten you, or that I had judged you unkindly. If ever Ihave thought that you had done this deed--and how could I doubt theevidence of my own eyes--I have always believed that it was at atime when your mind was unhinged, and when you knew no more of whatyou were about than the man who is walking in his sleep. "

"What do you mean when you talk about the evidence of your owneyes?" asked Lord Avon, looking hard at my uncle. 

"I saw you, Ned, upon that accursed night. "

"Saw me? Where?"

"In the passage. "

"And doing what?"

"You were coming from your brother's room. I had heard his voiceraised in anger and pain only an instant before. You carried inyour hand a bag full of money, and your face betrayed the utmostagitation. If you can but explain to me, Ned, how you came to bethere, you will take from my heart a weight which has pressed uponit for all these years. "

No one now would have recognized in my uncle the man who was theleader of all the fops of London. In the presence of this oldfriend and of the tragedy which girt him round, the veil oftriviality and affectation had been rent, and I felt all mygratitude towards him deepening for the first time into affectionwhilst I watched his pale, anxious face, and the eager hops whichshone in his eyes as he awaited his friend's explanation. Lord Avonsank his face in his hands, and for a few moments there was silencein the dim grey room. 

"I do not wonder now that you were shaken, " said he at last. "MyGod, what a net was cast round me! Had this vile charge beenbrought against me, you, my dearest friend, would have beencompelled to tear away the last doubt as to my guilt. And yet, inspite of what you have seen, Charles, I am as innocent in the matteras you are. "

"I thank God that I hear you say so. "

"But you are not satisfied, Charles. I can read it on your face. You wish to know why an innocent man should conceal himself for allthese years. "

"Your word is enough for me, Ned; but the world will wish this otherquestion answered also. "

"It was to save the family honour, Charles. You know how dear itwas to me. I could not clear myself without proving my brother tohave been guilty of the foulest crime which a gentleman couldcommit. For eighteen years I have screened him at the expense ofeverything which a man could sacrifice. I have lived a living deathwhich has left me an old and shattered man when I am but in myfortieth year. But now when I am faced with the alternative oftelling the facts about my brother, or of wronging my son, I canonly act in one fashion, and the more so since I have reason to hopethat a way may be found by which what I am now about to disclose toyou need never come to the public ear. "

He rose from his chair, and leaning heavily upon his two supporters, he tottered across the room to the dust-covered sideboard. There, in the centre of it, was lying that ill-boding pile of time-stained, mildewed cards, just as Boy Jim and I had seen them years before. Lord Avon turned them over with trembling fingers, and then pickingup half a dozen, he brought them to my uncle. 

"Place your finger and thumb upon the left-hand bottom corner ofthis card, Charles, " said he. "Pass them lightly backwards andforwards, and tell me what you feel. "

"It has been pricked with a pin. "

"Precisely. What is the card?"

My uncle turned it over. 

"It is the king of clubs. "

"Try the bottom corner of this one. "

"It is quite smooth. "

"And the card is?"

"The three of spades. "

"And this one?"

"It has been pricked. It is the ace of hearts. " Lord Avon hurledthem down upon the floor. 

"There you have the whole accursed story!" he cried. "Need I gofurther where every word is an agony?"

"I see something, but not all. You must continue, Ned. "

The frail figure stiffened itself, as though he were visibly bracinghimself for an effort. 

"I will tell it you, then, once and for ever. Never again, I trust, will it be necessary for me to open my lips about the miserablebusiness. You remember our game. You remember how we lost. Youremember how you all retired, and left me sitting in this very room, and at that very table. Far from being tired, I was exceedinglywakeful, and I remained here for an hour or more thinking over theincidents of the game and the changes which it promised to bringabout in my fortunes. I had, as you will recollect, lost heavily, and my only consolation was that my own brother had won. I knewthat, owing to his reckless mode of life, he was firmly in theclutches of the Jews, and I hoped that that which had shaken myposition might have the effect of restoring his. As I sat there, fingering the cards in an abstracted way, some chance led me toobserve the small needle-pricks which you have just felt. I wentover the packs, and found, to my unspeakable horror, that any onewho was in the secret could hold them in dealing in such a way as tobe able to count the exact number of high cards which fell to eachof his opponents. And then, with such a flush of shame and disgustas I had never known, I remembered how my attention had been drawnto my brother's mode of dealing, its slowness, and the way in whichhe held each card by the lower corner. 

"I did not condemn him precipitately. I sat for a long time callingto mind every incident which could tell one way or the other. Alas!it all went to confirm me in my first horrible suspicion, and toturn it into a certainty. My brother had ordered the packs fromLedbury's, in Bond Street. They had been for some hours in hischambers. He had played throughout with a decision which hadsurprised us at the time. Above all, I could not conceal frommyself that his past life was not such as to make even so abominablea crime as this impossible to him. Tingling with anger and shame, Iwent straight up that stair, the cards in my hand, and I taxed himwith this lowest and meanest of all the crimes to which a villaincould descend. 

"He had not retired to rest, and his ill-gotten gains were spreadout upon the dressing-table. I hardly know what I said to him, butthe facts were so deadly that he did not attempt to deny his guilt. You will remember, as the only mitigation of his crime, that he wasnot yet one and twenty years of age. My words overwhelmed him. Hewent on his knees to me, imploring me to spare him. I told him thatout of consideration for our family I should make no public exposureof him, but that he must never again in his life lay his hand upon acard, and that the money which he had won must be returned nextmorning with an explanation. It would be social ruin, he protested. I answered that he must take the consequence of his own deed. Thenand there I burned the papers which he had won from me, and Ireplaced in a canvas bag which lay upon the table all the goldpieces. I would have left the room without another word, but heclung to me, and tore the ruffle from my wrist in his attempt tohold me back, and to prevail upon me to promise to say nothing toyou or Sir Lothian Hume. It was his despairing cry, when he foundthat I was proof against all his entreaties, which reached yourears, Charles, and caused you to open your chamber door and to seeme as I returned to my room. "

My uncle drew a long sigh of relief. 

"Nothing could be clearer!" he murmured. 

"In the morning I came, as you remember, to your room, and Ireturned your money. I did the same to Sir Lothian Hume. I saidnothing of my reasons for doing so, for I found that I could notbring myself to confess our disgrace to you. Then came the horriblediscovery which has darkened my life, and which was as great amystery to me as it has been to you. I saw that I was suspected, and I saw, also, that even if I were to clear myself, it could onlybe done by a public confession of the infamy of my brother. Ishrank from it, Charles. Any personal suffering seemed to me to bebetter than to bring public shame upon a family which has held anuntarnished record through so many centuries. I fled from my trial, therefore, and disappeared from the world. 

"But, first of all, it was necessary that I should make arrangementsfor the wife and the son, of whose existence you and my otherfriends were ignorant. It is with shame, Mary, that I confess it, and I acknowledge to you that the blame of all the consequencesrests with me rather than with you. At the time there were reasons, now happily long gone past, which made me determine that the son wasbetter apart from the mother, whose absence at that age he would notmiss. I would have taken you into my confidence, Charles, had itnot been that your suspicions had wounded me deeply--for I did notat that time understand how strong the reasons were which hadprejudiced you against me. 

"On the evening after the tragedy I fled to London, and arrangedthat my wife should have a fitting allowance on condition that shedid not interfere with the child. I had, as you remember, had muchto do with Harrison, the prize-fighter, and I had often had occasionto admire his simple and honest nature. I took my boy to him now, and I found him, as I expected, incredulous as to my guilt, andready to assist me in any way. At his wife's entreaty he had justretired from the ring, and was uncertain how he should employhimself. I was able to fit him up as a smith, on condition that heshould ply his trade at the village of Friar's Oak. My agreementwas that James was to be brought up as their nephew, and that heshould know nothing of his unhappy parents. 

"You will ask me why I selected Friar's Oak. It was because I hadalready chosen my place of concealment; and if I could not see myboy, it was, at least, some consolation to know that he was near me. You are aware that this mansion is one of the oldest in England; butyou are not aware that it has been built with a very special eye toconcealment, that there are no less than two habitable secretchambers, and that the outer or thicker walls are tunnelled intopassages. The existence of these rooms has always been a familysecret, though it was one which I valued so little that it was onlythe chance of my seldom using the house which had prevented me frompointing them out to some friend. Now I found that a secure retreatwas provided for me in my extremity. I stole down to my ownmansion, entered it at night, and, leaving all that was dear to mebehind, I crept like a rat behind the wainscot, to live out theremainder of my weary life in solitude and misery. In this wornface, Charles, and in this grizzled hair, you may read the diary ofmy most miserable existence. 

"Once a week Harrison used to bring me up provisions, passing themthrough the pantry window, which I left open for the purpose. Sometimes I would steal out at night and walk under the stars oncemore, with the cool breeze upon my forehead; but this I had at lastto stop, for I was seen by the rustics, and rumours of a spirit atCliffe Royal began to get about. One night two ghost-hunters--"

"It was I, father, " cried Boy Jim; "I and my friend, Rodney Stone. "

"I know it was. Harrison told me so the same night. I was proud, James, to see that you had the spirit of the Barringtons, and that Ihad an heir whose gallantry might redeem the family blot which Ihave striven so hard to cover over. Then came the day when yourmother's kindness--her mistaken kindness--gave you the means ofescaping to London. "

"Ah, Edward, " cried his wife, "if you had seen our boy, like a cagedeagle, beating against the bars, you would have helped to give himeven so short a flight as this. "

"I do not blame you, Mary. It is possible that I should have doneso. He went to London, and he tried to open a career for himself byhis own strength and courage. How many of our ancestors have donethe same, save only that a sword-hilt lay in their closed hands; butof them all I do not know that any have carried themselves moregallantly!"

"That I dare swear, " said my uncle, heartily. 

"And then, when Harrison at last returned, I learned that my son wasactually matched to fight in a public prize-battle. That would notdo, Charles! It was one thing to fight as you and I have fought inour youth, and it was another to compete for a purse of gold. "

"My dear friend, I would not for the world--"

"Of course you would not, Charles. You chose the best man, and howcould you do otherwise? But it would not do! I determined that thetime had come when I should reveal myself to my son, the more so asthere were many signs that my most unnatural existence had seriouslyweakened my health. Chance, or shall I not rather say Providence, had at last made clear all that had been dark, and given me themeans of establishing my innocence. My wife went yesterday to bringmy boy at last to the side of his unfortunate father. "

There was silence for some time, and then it was my uncle's voicewhich broke it. 

"You've been the most ill-used man in the world, Ned, " said he. "Please God we shall have many years yet in which to make up to youfor it. But, after all, it seems to me that we are as far as everfrom learning how your unfortunate brother met his death. "

"For eighteen years it was as much a mystery to me as to you, Charles. But now at last the guilt is manifest. Stand forward, Ambrose, and tell your story as frankly and as fully as you havetold it to me. "

CHAPTER XXI--THE VALET'S STORY

The valet had shrunk into the dark corner of the room, and hadremained so motionless that we had forgotten his presence until, upon this appeal from his former master, he took a step forward intothe light, turning his sallow face in our direction. His usuallyimpassive features were in a state of painful agitation, and hespoke slowly and with hesitation, as though his trembling lips couldhardly frame the words. And yet, so strong is habit, that, even inthis extremity of emotion he assumed the deferential air of thehigh-class valet, and his sentences formed themselves in thesonorous fashion which had struck my attention upon that first daywhen the curricle of my uncle had stopped outside my father's door. 

"My Lady Avon and gentlemen, " said he, "if I have sinned in thismatter, and I freely confess that I have done so, I only know oneway in which I can atone for it, and that is by making the full andcomplete confession which my noble master, Lord Avon, has demanded. I assure you, then, that what I am about to tell you, surprising asit may seem, is the absolute and undeniable truth concerning themysterious death of Captain Barrington. 

"It may seem impossible to you that one in my humble walk of lifeshould bear a deadly and implacable hatred against a man in theposition of Captain Barrington. You think that the gulf between istoo wide. I can tell you, gentlemen, that the gulf which can bebridged by unlawful love can be spanned also by an unlawful hatred, and that upon the day when this young man stole from me all thatmade my life worth living, I vowed to Heaven that I should take fromhim that foul life of his, though the deed would cover but thetiniest fraction of the debt which he owed me. I see that you lookaskance at me, Sir Charles Tregellis, but you should pray to God, sir, that you may never have the chance of finding out what youwould yourself be capable of in the same position. "

It was a wonder to all of us to see this man's fiery nature breakingsuddenly through the artificial constraints with which he held it incheck. His short dark hair seemed to bristle upwards, his eyesglowed with the intensity of his passion, and his face expressed amalignity of hatred which neither the death of his enemy nor thelapse of years could mitigate. The demure servant was gone, andthere stood in his place a deep and dangerous man, one who might bean ardent lover or a most vindictive foe. 

"We were about to be married, she and I, when some black chancethrew him across our path. I do not know by what base deceptions helured her away from me. I have heard that she was only one of many, and that he was an adept at the art. It was done before ever I knewthe danger, and she was left with her broken heart and her ruinedlife to return to that home into which she had brought disgrace andmisery. I only saw her once. She told me that her seducer hadburst out a-laughing when she had reproached him for his perfidy, and I swore to her that his heart's blood should pay me for thatlaugh. 

"I was a valet at the time, but I was not yet in the service of LordAvon. I applied for and gained that position with the one idea thatit might give me an opportunity of settling my accounts with hisyounger brother. And yet my chance was a terribly long time coming, for many months had passed before the visit to Cliffe Royal gave methe opportunity which I longed for by day and dreamed of by night. When it did come, however, it came in a fashion which was morefavourable to my plans than anything that I had ever ventured tohope for. 

"Lord Avon was of opinion that no one but himself knew of the secretpassages in Cliffe Royal. In this he was mistaken. I knew of them--or, at least, I knew enough of them to serve my purpose. I neednot tell you how, one day, when preparing the chambers for theguests, an accidental pressure upon part of the fittings caused apanel to gape in the woodwork, and showed me a narrow opening in thewall. Making my way down this, I found that another panel led intoa larger bedroom beyond. That was all I knew, but it was all thatwas needed for my purpose. The disposal of the rooms had been leftin my hands, and I arranged that Captain Barrington should sleep inthe larger and I in the smaller. I could come upon him when Iwished, and no one would be the wiser. 

"And then he arrived. How can I describe to you the fever ofimpatience in which I lived until the moment should come for which Ihad waited and planned. For a night and a day they gambled, and fora night and a day I counted the minutes which brought me nearer tomy man. They might ring for fresh wine at what hour they liked, they always found me waiting and ready, so that this young captainhiccoughed out that I was the model of all valets. My masteradvised me to go to bed. He had noticed my flushed cheek and mybright eyes, and he set me down as being in a fever. So I was, butit was a fever which only one medicine could assuage. 

"Then at last, very early in the morning, I heard them push backtheir chairs, and I knew that their game had at last come to an end. When I entered the room to receive my orders, I found that CaptainBarrington had already stumbled off to bed. The others had alsoretired, and my master was sitting alone at the table, with hisempty bottle and the scattered cards in front of him. He ordered meangrily to my room, and this time I obeyed him. 

"My first care was to provide myself with a weapon. I knew that ifI were face to face with him I could tear his throat out, but I mustso arrange that the fashion of his death should be a noiseless one. There was a hunting trophy in the hall, and from it I took astraight heavy knife which I sharpened upon my boot. Then I stoleto my room, and sat waiting upon the side of my bed. I had made upmy mind what I should do. There would be little satisfaction inkilling him if he was not to know whose hand had struck the blow, orwhich of his sins it came to avenge. Could I but bind him and gaghim in his drunken sleep, then a prick or two of my dagger wouldarouse him to listen to what I had to say to him. I pictured thelook in his eyes as the haze of sleep cleared slowly away from them, the look of anger turning suddenly to stark horror as he understoodwho I was and what I had come for. It would be the supreme momentof my life. 

"I waited as it seemed to me for at least an hour; but I had nowatch, and my impatience was such that I dare say it really waslittle more than a quarter of that time. Then I rose, removed myshoes, took my knife, and having opened the panel, slipped silentlythrough. It was not more than thirty feet that I had to go, but Iwent inch by inch, for the old rotten boards snapped like breakingtwigs if a sudden weight was placed upon them. It was, of course, pitch dark, and very, very slowly I felt my way along. At last Isaw a yellow seam of light glimmering in front of me, and I knewthat it came from the other panel. I was too soon, then, since hehad not extinguished his candles. I had waited many months, and Icould afford to wait another hour, for I did not wish to do anythingprecipitately or in a hurry. 

"It was very necessary to move silently now, since I was within afew feet of my man, with only the thin wooden partition between. Age had warped and cracked the boards, so that when I had at lastvery stealthily crept my way as far as the sliding-panel, I foundthat I could, without any difficulty, see into the room. CaptainBarrington was standing by the dressing-table with his coat and vestoff. A large pile of sovereigns, and several slips of paper werelying before him, and he was counting over his gambling gains. Hisface was flushed, and he was heavy from want of sleep and from wine. It rejoiced me to see it, for it meant that his slumber would bedeep, and that all would be made easy for me. 

"I was still watching him, when of a sudden I saw him start, and aterrible expression come upon his face. For an instant my heartstood still, for I feared that he had in some way divined mypresence. And then I heard the voice of my master within. I couldnot see the door by which he had entered, nor could I see him wherehe stood, but I heard all that he had to say. As I watched thecaptain's face flush fiery-red, and then turn to a livid white as helistened to those bitter words which told him of his infamy, myrevenge was sweeter--far sweeter--than my most pleasant dreams hadever pictured it. I saw my master approach the dressing-table, holdthe papers in the flame of the candle, throw their charred ashesinto the grate, and sweep the golden pieces into a small browncanvas bag. Then, as he turned to leave the room, the captainseized him by the wrist, imploring him, by the memory of theirmother, to have mercy upon him; and I loved my master as I saw himdrag his sleeve from the grasp of the clutching fingers, and leavethe stricken wretch grovelling upon the floor. 

"And now I was left with a difficult point to settle, for it washard for me to say whether it was better that I should do that whichI had come for, or whether, by holding this man's guilty secret, Imight not have in my hand a keener and more deadly weapon than mymaster's hunting-knife. I was sure that Lord Avon could not andwould not expose him. I knew your sense of family pride too well, my lord, and I was certain that his secret was safe in your hands. But I both could and would; and then, when his life had beenblasted, and he had been hounded from his regiment and from hisclubs, it would be time, perhaps, for me to deal in some other waywith him. "

"Ambrose, you are a black villain, " said my uncle. 

"We all have our own feelings, Sir Charles; and you will permit meto say that a serving-man may resent an injury as much as agentleman, though the redress of the duel is denied to him. But Iam telling you frankly, at Lord Avon's request, all that I thoughtand did upon that night, and I shall continue to do so, even if I amnot fortunate enough to win your approval. 

"When Lord Avon had left him, the captain remained for some time ina kneeling attitude, with his face sunk upon a chair. Then he rose, and paced slowly up and down the room, his chin sunk upon hisbreast. Every now and then he would pluck at his hair, or shake hisclenched hands in the air; and I saw the moisture glisten upon hisbrow. For a time I lost sight of him, and I heard him openingdrawer after drawer, as though he were in search of something. Thenhe stood over by his dressing-table again, with his back turned tome. His head was thrown a little back, and he had both hands up tothe collar of his shirt, as though he were striving to undo it. Andthen there was a gush as if a ewer had been upset, and down he sankupon the ground, with his head in the corner, twisted round at sostrange an angle to his shoulders that one glimpse of it told methat my man was slipping swiftly from the clutch in which I hadfancied that I held him. I slid my panel, and was in the room in aninstant. His eyelids still quivered, and it seemed to me, as mygaze met his glazing eyes, that I could read both recognition andsurprise in them. I laid my knife upon the floor, and I stretchedmyself out beside him, that I might whisper in his ear one or twolittle things of which I wished to remind him; but even as I did so, he gave a gasp and was gone. 

"It is singular that I, who had never feared him in life, should befrightened at him now, and yet when I looked at him, and saw thatall was motionless save the creeping stain upon the carpet, I wasseized with a sudden foolish spasm of terror, and, catching up myknife, I fled swiftly and silently back to my own room, closing thepanels behind me. It was only when I had reached it that I foundthat in my mad haste I had carried away, not the hunting-knife whichI had taken with me, but the bloody razor which had dropped from thedead man's hand. This I concealed where no one has ever discoveredit; but my fears would not allow me to go back for the other, as Imight perhaps have done, had I foreseen how terribly its presencemight tell against my master. And that, Lady Avon and gentlemen, isan exact and honest account of how Captain Barrington came by hisend. "

"And how was it, " asked my uncle, angrily, "that you have allowed aninnocent man to be persecuted all these years, when a word from youmight have saved him?"

"Because I had every reason to believe, Sir Charles, that that wouldbe most unwelcome to Lord Avon. How could I tell all this withoutrevealing the family scandal which he was so anxious to conceal? Iconfess that at the beginning I did not tell him what I had seen, and my excuse must be that he disappeared before I had time todetermine what I should do. For many a year, however--ever since Ihave been in your service, Sir Charles--my conscience tormented me, and I swore that if ever I should find my old master, I shouldreveal everything to him. The chance of my overhearing a story toldby young Mr. Stone here, which showed me that some one was using thesecret chambers of Cliffe Royal, convinced me that Lord Avon was inhiding there, and I lost no time in seeking him out and offering todo him all the justice in my power. "

"What he says is true, " said his master; "but it would have beenstrange indeed if I had hesitated to sacrifice a frail life andfailing health in a cause for which I freely surrendered all thatyouth had to offer. But new considerations have at last compelledme to alter my resolution. My son, through ignorance of his trueposition, was drifting into a course of life which accorded with hisstrength and spirit, but not with the traditions of his house. Again, I reflected that many of those who knew my brother had passedaway, that all the facts need not come out, and that my death whilstunder the suspicion of such a crime would cast a deeper stain uponour name than the sin which he had so terribly expiated. For thesereasons--"

The tramp of several heavy footsteps reverberating through the oldhouse broke in suddenly upon Lord Avon's words. His wan face turnedeven a shade greyer as he heard it, and he looked piteously to hiswife and son. 

"They will arrest me!" he cried. "I must submit to the degradationof an arrest. "

"This way, Sir James; this way, " said the harsh tones of Sir LothianHume from without. 

"I do not need to be shown the way in a house where I have drunkmany a bottle of good claret, " cried a deep voice in reply; andthere in the doorway stood the broad figure of Squire Ovington inhis buckskins and top-boots, a riding-crop in his hand. Sir LothianHume was at his elbow, and I saw the faces of two country constablespeeping over his shoulders. 

"Lord Avon, " said the squire, "as a magistrate of the county ofSussex, it is my duty to tell you that a warrant is held against youfor the wilful murder of your brother, Captain Barrington, in theyear 1786. "

"I am ready to answer the charge. "

"This I tell you as a magistrate. But as a man, and the Squire ofRougham Grange, I'm right glad to see you, Ned, and here's my handon it, and never will I believe that a good Tory like yourself, anda man who could show his horse's tail to any field in the whole Downcounty, would ever be capable of so vile an act. "

"You do me justice, James, " said Lord Avon, clasping the broad, brown hand which the country squire had held out to him. "I am asinnocent as you are; and I can prove it. "

"Damned glad I am to hear it, Ned! That is to say, Lord Avon, thatany defence which you may have to make will be decided upon by yourpeers and by the laws of your country. "

"Until which time, " added Sir Lothian Hume, "a stout door and a goodlock will be the best guarantee that Lord Avon will be there whencalled for. "

The squire's weather-stained face flushed to a deeper red as heturned upon the Londoner. 

"Are you the magistrate of a county, sir?"

"I have not the honour, Sir James. "

"Then how dare you advise a man who has sat on the bench for nightwenty years! When I am in doubt, sir, the law provides me with aclerk with whom I may confer, and I ask no other assistance. "

"You take too high a tone in this matter, Sir James. I am notaccustomed to be taken to task so sharply. "

"Nor am I accustomed, sir, to be interfered with in my officialduties. I speak as a magistrate, Sir Lothian, but I am always readyto sustain my opinions as a man. "

Sir Lothian bowed. 

"You will allow me to observe, sir, that I have personal interestsof the highest importance involved in this matter, I have everyreason to believe that there is a conspiracy afoot which will affectmy position as heir to Lord Avon's titles and estates. I desire hissafe custody in order that this matter may be cleared up, and I callupon you, as a magistrate, to execute your warrant. "

"Plague take it, Ned!" cried the squire, "I would that my clerkJohnson were here, for I would deal as kindly by you as the lawallows; and yet I am, as you hear, called upon to secure yourperson. "

"Permit me to suggest, sir, " said my uncle, "that so long as he isunder the personal supervision of the magistrate, he may be said tobe under the care of the law, and that this condition will befulfilled if he is under the roof of Rougham Grange. "

"Nothing could be better, " cried the squire, heartily. "You willstay with me, Ned, until this matter blows over. In other words, Lord Avon, I make myself responsible, as the representative of thelaw, that you are held in safe custody until your person may berequired of me. "

"Yours is a true heart, James. "

"Tut, tut! it is the due process of the law. I trust, Sir LothianHume, that you find nothing to object to in it?"

Sir Lothian shrugged his shoulders, and looked blackly at themagistrate. Then he turned to my uncle. 

"There is a small matter still open between us, " said he. "Wouldyou kindly give me the name of a friend? Mr. Corcoran, who isoutside in my barouche, would act for me, and we might meet to-morrow morning. "

"With pleasure, " answered my uncle. "I dare say your father wouldact for me, nephew? Your friend may call upon Lieutenant Stone, ofFriar's Oak, and the sooner the better. "

And so this strange conference ended. As for me, I had sprung tothe side of the old friend of my boyhood, and was trying to tell himmy joy at his good fortune, and listening to his assurance thatnothing that could ever befall him could weaken the love that hebore me. My uncle touched me on the shoulder, and we were about toleave, when Ambrose, whose bronze mask had been drawn down once moreover his fiery passions, came demurely towards him. 

"Beg your pardon, Sir Charles, " said he; "but it shocks me very muchto see your cravat. "

"You are right, Ambrose, " my uncle answered. "Lorimer does hisbest, but I have never been able to fill your place. "

"I should be proud to serve you, sir; but you must acknowledge thatLord Avon has the prior claim. If he will release me--"

"You may go, Ambrose; you may go!" cried Lord Avon. "You are anexcellent servant, but your presence has become painful to me. "

"Thank you, Ned, " said my uncle. "But you must not leave me sosuddenly again, Ambrose. "

"Permit me to explain the reason, sir. I had determined to give younotice when we reached Brighton; but as we drove from the villagethat day, I caught a glimpse of a lady passing in a phaeton betweenwhom and Lord Avon I was well aware there was a close intimacy, although I was not certain that she was actually his wife. Herpresence there confirmed me in my opinion that he was in hiding atCliffe Royal, and I dropped from your curricle and followed her atonce, in order to lay the matter before her, and explain how verynecessary it was that Lord Avon should see me. "

"Well, I forgive you for your desertion, Ambrose, " said my uncle;"and, " he added, "I should be vastly obliged to you if you would re-arrange my tie. "

CHAPTER XXII--THE END

Sir James Ovington's carriage was waiting without, and in it theAvon family, so tragically separated and so strangely re-united, were borne away to the squire's hospitable home. When they hadgone, my uncle mounted his curricle, and drove Ambrose and myself tothe village. 

"We had best see your father at once, nephew, " said he. "SirLothian and his man started some time ago. I should be sorry ifthere should be any hitch in our meeting. "

For my part, I was thinking of our opponent's deadly reputation as aduellist, and I suppose that my features must have betrayed myfeelings, for my uncle began to laugh. 

"Why, nephew, " said he, "you look as if you were walking behind mycoffin. It is not my first affair, and I dare bet that it will notbe my last. When I fight near town I usually fire a hundred or soin Manton's back shop, but I dare say I can find my way to hiswaistcoat. But I confess that I am somewhat accable, by all thathas befallen us. To think of my dear old friend being not onlyalive, but innocent as well! And that he should have such astrapping son and heir to carry on the race of Avon! This will bethe last blow to Hume, for I know that the Jews have given him ropeon the score of his expectations. And you, Ambrose, that you shouldbreak out in such a way!"

Of all the amazing things which had happened, this seemed to haveimpressed my uncle most, and he recurred to it again and again. That a man whom he had come to regard as a machine for tying cravatsand brewing chocolate should suddenly develop fiery human passionswas indeed a prodigy. If his silver razor-heater had taken to evilways he could not have been more astounded. 

We were still a hundred yards from the cottage when I saw the tall, green-coated Mr. Corcoran striding down the garden path. My fatherwas waiting for us at the door with an expression of subdued delightupon his face. 

"Happy to serve you in any way, Sir Charles, " said he. "We'vearranged it for to-morrow at seven on Ditching Common. "

"I wish these things could be brought off a little later in theday, " said my uncle. "One has either to rise at a perfectly absurdhour, or else to neglect one's toilet. "

"They are stopping across the road at the Friar's Oak inn, and ifyou would wish it later--"

"No, no; I shall make the effort. Ambrose, you will bring up thebatteris de toilette at five. "

"I don't know whether you would care to use my barkers, " said myfather. "I've had 'em in fourteen actions, and up to thirty yardsyou couldn't wish a better tool. "

"Thank you, I have my duelling pistols under the seat. See that thetriggers are oiled, Ambrose, for I love a light pull. Ah, sisterMary, I have brought your boy back to you, none the worse, I hope, for the dissipations of town. "

I need not tell you how my dear mother wept over me and fondled me, for you who have mothers will know for yourselves, and you who havenot will never understand how warm and snug the home nest can be. How I had chafed and longed for the wonders of town, and yet, nowthat I had seen more than my wildest dreams had ever deemedpossible, my eyes had rested upon nothing which was so sweet and sorestful as our own little sitting-room, with its terra-cotta-coloured walls, and those trifles which are so insignificant inthemselves, and yet so rich in memories--the blow-fish from theMoluccas, the narwhal's horn from the Arctic, and the picture of theCa Ira, with Lord Hotham in chase! How cheery, too, to see at oneside of the shining grate my father with his pipe and his merry redface, and on the other my mother with her fingers ever turning anddarting with her knitting-needles! As I looked at them I marvelledthat I could ever have longed to leave them, or that I could bringmyself to leave them again. 

But leave them I must, and that speedily, as I learned amidst theboisterous congratulations of my father and the tears of my mother. He had himself been appointed to the Cato, 64, with post rank, whilst a note had come from Lord Nelson at Portsmouth to say that avacancy was open for me if I should present myself at once. 

"And your mother has your sea-chest all ready, my lad, and you cantravel down with me to-morrow; for if you are to be one of Nelson'smen, you must show him that you are worthy of it. "

"All the Stones have been in the sea-service, " said my mother, apologetically to my uncle, "and it is a great chance that he shouldenter under Lord Nelson's own patronage. But we can never forgetyour kindness, Charles, in showing our dear Rodney something of theworld. "

"On the contrary, sister Mary, " said my uncle, graciously, "your sonhas been an excellent companion to me--so much so that I fear that Iam open to the charge of having neglected my dear Fidelio. I trustthat I bring him back somewhat more polished than I found him. Itwould be folly to call him distingue, but he is at leastunobjectionable. Nature has denied him the highest gifts, and Ifind him adverse to employing the compensating advantages of art;but, at least, I have shown him something of life, and I have taughthim a few lessons in finesse and deportment which may appear to bewasted upon him at present, but which, none the less, may come backto him in his more mature years. If his career in town has been adisappointment to me, the reason lies mainly in the fact that I amfoolish enough to measure others by the standard which I have myselfset. I am well disposed towards him, however, and I consider himeminently adapted for the profession which he is about to adopt. "

He held out his sacred snuff-box to me as he spoke, as a solemnpledge of his goodwill, and, as I look back at him, there is nomoment at which I see him more plainly than that with the oldmischievous light dancing once more in his large intolerant eyes, one thumb in the armpit of his vest, and the little shining box heldout upon his snow-white palm. He was a type and leader of a strangebreed of men which has vanished away from England--the full-blooded, virile buck, exquisite in his dress, narrow in his thoughts, coarsein his amusements, and eccentric in his habits. They walk acrossthe bright stage of English history with their finicky step, theirpreposterous cravats, their high collars, their dangling seals, andthey vanish into those dark wings from which there is no return. The world has outgrown them, and there is no place now for theirstrange fashions, their practical jokes, and carefully cultivatedeccentricities. And yet behind this outer veiling of folly, withwhich they so carefully draped themselves, they were often men ofstrong character and robust personality. The languid loungers ofSt. James's were also the yachtsmen of the Solent, the fine ridersof the shires, and the hardy fighters in many a wayside battle andmany a morning frolic. Wellington picked his best officers fromamongst them. They condescended occasionally to poetry or oratory;and Byron, Charles James Fox, Sheridan, and Castlereagh, preservedsome reputation amongst them, in spite of their publicity. I cannotthink how the historian of the future can hope to understand them, when I, who knew one of them so well, and bore his blood in myveins, could never quite tell how much of him was real, and how muchwas due to the affectations which he had cultivated so long thatthey had ceased to deserve the name. Through the chinks of thatarmour of folly I have sometimes thought that I had caught a glimpseof a good and true man within, and it pleases me to hope that I wasright. 

It was destined that the exciting incidents of that day were evennow not at an end. I had retired early to rest, but it wasimpossible for me to sleep, for my mind would turn to Boy Jim and tothe extraordinary change in his position and prospects. I was stillturning and tossing when I heard the sound of flying hoofs comingdown the London Road, and immediately afterwards the grating ofwheels as they pulled up in front of the inn. My window chanced tobe open, for it was a fresh spring night, and I heard the creak ofthe inn door, and a voice asking whether Sir Lothian Hume waswithin. At the name I sprang from my bed, and I was in time to seethree men, who had alighted from the carriage, file into the lightedhall. The two horses were left standing, with the glare of the opendoor falling upon their brown shoulders and patient heads. 

Ten minutes may have passed, and then I heard the clatter of manysteps, and a knot of men came clustering through the door. 

"You need not employ violence, " said a harsh, clear voice. "Onwhose suit is it?"

"Several suits, sir. They 'eld over in the 'opes that you'd pulloff the fight this mornin'. Total amounts is twelve thousandpound. "

"Look here, my man, I have a very important appointment for seveno'clock to-morrow. I'll give you fifty pounds if you will leave meuntil then. "

"Couldn't do it, sir, really. It's more than our places assheriff's officers is worth. "

In the yellow glare of the carriage-lamp I saw the baronet look upat our windows, and if hatred could have killed, his eyes would havebeen as deadly as his pistol. 

"I can't mount the carriage unless you free my hands, " said he. 

"'Old 'ard, Bill, for 'e looks vicious. Let go o' one arm at atime! Ah, would you then?"

"Corcoran! Corcoran!" screamed a voice, and I saw a plunge, astruggle, and one frantic figure breaking its way from the rest. Then came a heavy blow, and down he fell in the middle of themoonlit road, flapping and jumping among the dust like a trout newlanded. 

"He's napped it this time! Get 'im by the wrists, Jim! Now, alltogether!"

He was hoisted up like a bag of flour, and fell with a brutal thudinto the bottom of the carriage. The three men sprang in after him, a whip whistled in the darkness, and I had seen the last that I orany one else, save some charitable visitor to a debtors' gaol, wasever again destined to see of Sir Lothian Hume, the once fashionableCorinthian. 

Lord Avon lived for two years longer--long enough, with the help ofAmbrose, to fully establish his innocence of the horrible crime, inthe shadow of which he had lived so long. What he could not clearaway, however, was the effect of those years of morbid and unnaturallife spent in the hidden chambers of the old house; and it was onlythe devotion of his wife and of his son which kept the thin andflickering flame of his life alight. She whom I had known as theplay actress of Anstey Cross became the dowager Lady Avon; whilstBoy Jim, as dear to me now as when we harried birds' nests andtickled trout together, is now Lord Avon, beloved by his tenantry, the finest sportsman and the most popular man from the north of theWeald to the Channel. He was married to the second daughter of SirJames Ovington; and as I have seen three of his grandchildren withinthe week, I fancy that if any of Sir Lothian's descendants havetheir eye upon the property, they are likely to be as disappointedas their ancestor was before them. The old house of Cliffe Royalhas been pulled down, owing to the terrible family associationswhich hung round it, and a beautiful modern building sprang up inits place. The lodge which stood by the Brighton Road was so daintywith its trellis-work and its rose bushes that I was not the onlyvisitor who declared that I had rather be the owner of it than ofthe great house amongst the trees. There for many years in a happyand peaceful old age lived Jack Harrison and his wife, receivingback in the sunset of their lives the loving care which they hadthemselves bestowed. Never again did Champion Harrison throw hisleg over the ropes of a twenty-four-foot ring; but the story of thegreat battle between the smith and the West Countryman is stillfamiliar to old ring-goers, and nothing pleased him better than tore-fight it all, round by round, as he sat in the sunshine under hisrose-girt porch. But if he heard the tap of his wife's stickapproaching him, his talk would break off at once into the gardenand its prospects, for she was still haunted by the fear that hewould some day go back to the ring, and she never missed the old manfor an hour without being convinced that he had hobbled off to wrestthe belt from the latest upstart champion. It was at his own veryearnest request that they inscribed "He fought the good fight" uponhis tombstone, and though I cannot doubt that he had Black Bank andCrab Wilson in his mind when he asked it, yet none who knew himwould grudge its spiritual meaning as a summing up of his clean andmanly life. 

Sir Charles Tregellis continued for some years to show his scarletand gold at Newmarket, and his inimitable coats in St. James's. Itwas he who invented buttons and loops at the ends of dresspantaloons, and who broke fresh ground by his investigation of thecomparative merits of isinglass and of starch in the preparation ofshirt-fronts. There are old fops still lurking in the corners ofArthur's or of White's who can remember Tregellis's dictum, that acravat should be so stiffened that three parts of the length couldbe raised by one corner, and the painful schism which followed whenLord Alvanley and his school contended that a half was sufficient. Then came the supremacy of Brummell, and the open breach upon thesubject of velvet collars, in which the town followed the lead ofthe younger man. My uncle, who was not born to be second to anyone, retired instantly to St. Albans, and announced that he wouldmake it the centre of fashion and of society, instead of degenerateLondon. It chanced, however, that the mayor and corporation waitedupon him with an address of thanks for his good intentions towardsthe town, and that the burgesses, having ordered new coats fromLondon for the occasion, were all arrayed in velvet collars, whichso preyed upon my uncle's spirits that he took to his bed, and nevershowed his face in public again. His money, which had ruined whatmight have been a great life, was divided amongst many bequests, anannuity to his valet, Ambrose, being amongst them; but enough hascome to his sister, my dear mother, to help to make her old age assunny and as pleasant as even I could wish. 

And as for me--the poor string upon which these beads are strung--Idare scarce say another word about myself, lest this, which I hadmeant to be the last word of a chapter, should grow into the firstwords of a new one. Had I not taken up my pen to tell you a storyof the land, I might, perchance, have made a better one of the sea;but the one frame cannot hold two opposite pictures. The day maycome when I shall write down all that I remember of the greatestbattle ever fought upon salt water, and how my father's gallant lifewas brought to an end as, with his paint rubbing against a Frencheighty-gun ship on one side and a Spanish seventy-four upon theother he stood eating an apple in the break of his poop. I saw thesmoke banks on that October evening swirl slowly up over theAtlantic swell, and rise, and rise, until they had shredded intothinnest air, and lost themselves in the infinite blue of heaven. And with them rose the cloud which had hung over the country; and italso thinned and thinned, until God's own sun of peace and securitywas shining once more upon us, never more, we hope, to be bedimmed.