“You can ride, Tom?” Lord Claud had said, as they sauntered homewards from the poet’s lodgings.

Tom replied that whatever else he was lacking in, he might certainly lay claim to horsemanship; and the pair walked on together, Lord Claud sunk in thoughtful silence, his companion always ready to give his attention to the sights of the streets, which had lost none of the attraction of novelty as yet.

“Ho! ho! ho!” laughed a voice behind them; “Master Tom the greengoose has found fine company!”

“A fine comrade, truly, will he find he has got!  What becomes of all the strapping young fellows whom my Lord Claud takes pains to notice and befriend?”

“They are like the butterflies ­flutter for a season and are no more seen after!”

“Or like the buzzing fly who is lured within the spider’s web!  ’Tis easy fluttering in, but there is no getting out!”

“Ay, ay, the gallows noose must feel mightily like the strand of the spider’s web to the silly fly.  And as the spider pounces upon his victim ere it be dead, and sucks away its life blood, so does the hangman cut down his victim alive and cut out his living heart!  Oh, ’tis a fine sight! a fine sight!  Young Tom must e’en go and see the next execution at Tyburn!”

These words were spoken with caution, and yet every one of them fell full upon Tom’s ears.  These ears, be it noted, were very keen ones, as is often the case with those who have tracked game and hunted the fallow deer in the free forest.  Moreover, Tom had not yet grown callous to the sounds of talk and laughter in the streets.  He must needs listen to all he heard, and these phrases were plainly meant to meet his ear.

He glanced at Lord Claud to see if he had heard, but there was no change in the thoughtful face.  His companion appeared lost in his own reflections, and Tom, dropping a pace behind, looked back to see who had spoken.

As he had surmised, it was the four bully beaux whom he had met at the Folly the previous day.  So much had happened in the interim, that Tom could have believed it a week ago.  At his look they all burst into jeering laughter, but it did not appear as though they desired speech of him, or any sort of encounter, for they plunged hastily down a side street, and Tom saw that Lord Claud had just turned his head to see what hindered his companion.

“Pay no heed to drunken roisterers i’ the streets, Tom,” advised his mentor; “a quarrel is quicker provoked than mended, except at the sword’s point, and unseemly is brawling at street corners.  Yon fellows bear you some ill will for my threat yesterday.  They will do you a bad turn if the chance offers.  They are an evil crew, and my Lord Mayor has been warned against them ere now; but it is difficult in these days to give every man his deserts.  London would be depopulated if all who merited it were transported to the plantations of Virginia.”

A little later they met Harry Gay sauntering from one playhouse to another.  He looked with a sort of amused surprise at Tom, who paused to send a message to Master Cale, to tell him that he would not be at home that night, and was not to be troubled after in any wise.

“Do you lodge with Lord Claud?” asked Harry, with a curious glance towards the elegant figure sauntering on, and exchanging bows with the fine ladies in the coaches.

“I know not; but I ride forth with him ere long on some errand I wot not of.  Have no fears for me, good Harry, I can take care of myself well enow.”

“You have good confidence, my young friend.  I trust it is not the pride which goes before a fall.  It savours of peril to steer one’s bark over unknown waters, or to follow a road which leads no man knows whither;” and Harry nodded his head in the direction of Lord Claud, with a gesture that was as eloquent as any words could be.

“Tush!” answered Tom, with something of the careless indifference he had caught from Lord Claud and his associates; “I have come to see the world, and see it I will.  If there be peril, why, so much the better.  I am sick to death of sitting at ease in the safe shelter of home.  A man can die but once, and he had better live first.”

“Just so, just so,” answered Harry with some emphasis; “that is exactly the sentiment I would most impress upon your inexperience.  A man should live to drink the cup of life, ere it be snatched from his grasp.”

Tom nodded and passed on, not pausing to ponder upon the meaning of the words he had heard.  Indeed, he had small time to ponder, for his comrade was quickening his steps, and he had to hasten to reach his side.

“My stables lie this way.  We will go and look at the hackneys, and make choice of one fit to carry those great limbs of yours, my worthy friend.  As for me, a light-made barb will suffice; but it takes bone and muscle to carry all that bone,” and he clapped his hand upon Tom’s shoulder with a little laugh.

The stables were neither very bright nor savoury according to modern ideas, but for the times they were thought a marvel of perfection.  Tom’s eyes soon got used to the dimness, and he was quickly in a high state of rapture at the evidences of breeding and pace in the horses stabled there.

That they knew their master well was plain, for all heads were turned at the sound of his voice, and each animal gave a low whinny of pleasure at the approach of Lord Claud.  He took carrots from a basket and dispensed them with impartiality to his stud; and, meantime, he and his head groom talked together in low tones, and presently Tom was called to the conclave.

“Nell Gwynne will carry you best, Tom.  But she may give you a little trouble.  It is not every rider she will brook upon her back; yet if you can master her, she will bear you to the world’s end faithfully.”

Tom approached the mare indicated, who looked at him, laying back her ears and showing the whites of her eyes, sidling a little over in her stall with the evident intention of trying to get a kick at the stranger.  But Tom coolly walked up to her head, and began caressing her with a perfect fearlessness which presently disarmed her suspicion.  She was accustomed to see men flinch and quail before her, and despised the race accordingly.  But the few who bad no fear of her she recognized as her masters, and she gave them the love of her heart and the best of her powers.

“That will do, Tom,” said Lord Claud’s voice from behind; “you have won my lady’s capricious fancy.

“Bring up the mare and Lucifer in an hour’s time, saddled and bridled, and fed for the evening,” he added, speaking to the servant; “you will probably have them back some time tomorrow, but of that I cannot speak with certainty.”

He took Tom’s arm as he left the yard, saying in his nonchalant fashion: 

“Sometimes after one of these affairs of honour it is well to take oneself off for a while.  Her Majesty is as much against the settlement of private quarrels by the appeal to the sword as ever King William was.  However, fashion is too strong even for good Queen Anne.  But it is better not to do more than wing your man.  If you kill him, you run a risk of getting into trouble.  But I have no intention of doing so, unless he provokes me beyond endurance.”

“Is he a man of note?” asked Tom, with pardonable curiosity.

“In his way he is; you probably would not know the name; but he has friends in high places:  He and I have never loved each other.  He has balked me more than once, and I have had my revenge at the gaming table and in other places, which he is not likely to forgive or forget.  The other day he sought to provoke me by almost open insult.  It was not a woman, Tom.  I have enough on my hands without embroiling myself in affairs of gallantry.  There are women, doubtless, who are worth the championship of honest men; but in our world of London town they are few and far between.  Let them and their quarrels alone, Tom, if you would keep out of trouble.”

Lord Claud was speaking now with a sarcastic intonation rather unusual with him.  He was more thoughtful and grave than Tom had ever seen him, but the youth did not dare to ask the cause.  Indeed, it seemed to him that a man who had a duel to fight upon the morrow with a dangerous adversary had reason enough for gravity and thought.

“Tom,” said Lord Claud suddenly, breaking a rather long silence, “I feel sometimes that I have had enough for once of the trammels of town life.  I am weary of the slavery of levee, and gaming table, and playhouse.  There are better things in life than foppery and idle dissipation.  What do you think of it all, my honest Tom?”

“I find it vastly entertaining,” answered Tom truthfully; “but I feel me something out of place amongst all the fine fops I meet everywhere.”

“You would like to travel and see the world?  There is another world besides that of London town.”

“I would see more of London town ere I leave it,” answered Tom frankly; “but I would fain see other things and places, too.”

“Wilt come farther afield with me, if I go?” asked Lord Claud, with a quick sidelong glance at the tall figure of his companion.  “A man of thews and sinews, who knows not fear, is the comrade in whom my heart delights; but there be so few of them amid yon crowd of painted popinjays.”

The compliment tickled Tom’s vanity, just as the preference shown him from the first by so great a man as Lord Claud touched his naturally quick affections.

“Let me but see this wonderful city first, my lord, and I will follow you to the world’s end!” he cried impulsively.

“You shall have your wish, trusty Tom,” answered Lord Claud, his face clearing and his brilliant smile shining forth.  “In sooth, I have no desire to quit it just yet.  I would fain be one of those to welcome back the great Duke, who will be here ere the year closes; and you should not miss seeing the pageant which will greet the victor of Blenheim.  It may even be that the Duke himself will find employment for his poor servants.

“Hast ever heard of the secret service, Tom?  No?  Well, there be openings enow for men of courage and resource.  It may be that you and I may find work for us to do.  When all Europe is at war, country with country, and kingdom with kingdom, there is work and to spare for trusty messengers, stout of heart and strong of arm.  Who knows but that such luck as that may come in our way?”

Tom listened agape, feeling as though his horizon were growing wider every hour.  He had been scarce more than a week in town, and, behold, all life seemed changed about him.  Already he had been plunged into an adventure which would probably end in the spilling of blood; and now the prospect was opening out before him of travel and adventure of a kind of which he had never dreamed.  It seemed impossible that he could be the same raw rustic youth who, a few short months ago, was accounted the greatest roisterer of his own county.  His doings in the past seemed just the outcome of boyish spirits.  He had been nothing but a great boy in those days; now he felt that his manhood was coming upon him by leaps and bounds.

At Lord Claud’s lodging a repast was awaiting them which was in itself a further revelation to Tom.  He was mightily hungry, too, and fell upon the good cheer with an appetite that entertained his host.  The food he found most excellent, though seasoned something too strongly for his palate.  But the wines were less to his taste, and he presently made bold to ask for a tankard of homely ale, which was brought to him from the servants’ quarters; Lord Claud leaning back with his glass in his hand, and smiling to see the relish with which Tom enjoyed the simple beverage.

“Ah, the time was when I could quaff a tankard of ale with any man, and it may well be that I will do the same again in the future.  But now, Tom, we must come and don riding gear, for the horses will be round ere long.  Oh, have no concern as to that.  My man will have ready all that you will need.  But those silken hose and that broidered vest are little suited to the saddle.”

And, in very sooth, Tom found himself quickly fitted with a pair of stout leathern breeches, a cloth waistcoat, and a pair of riding boots adorned with silver spurs.  A riding switch was put in his hand, and he stood flicking his boots at the top of the staircase till Lord Claud joined him, dressed in a quiet and most irreproachable riding suit, which became the elegance of his figure almost better than the frippery of the first toilet.

The horses stood at the door.  Tom walked up to the great mare and renewed acquaintance with her before swinging himself lightly to the saddle.  She made an instinctive dart with her head, as though to seek to bite his foot; but he patted her neck, touched her lightly with the spur, and sat like a Centaur as she made a quick curvet that had unseated riders before now.

The next minute the pair had started forth in the murky twilight of the autumn evening; but the moon was rising and the mists were dispersing.  Before they had left the houses behind they could see the road clear before them, and were able to give their impatient steeds their heads, and travel at a steady hand gallop.

Tom had approached London from the north, so that all this country was new to him.  He delighted in the feel of a horse betwixt his knees again; and the vagaries of the high-bred mare, who shied and danced at every flickering shadow, kept his pulses tingling and his heart aglow during the whole of that moonlight ride.

Lord Claud said little.  He too had need of some horsemanship, for the black barb he rode was full of fire and spirit.  Both riders kept a sharp lookout as they rode along, for there was never any security from footpads and highway robbers once they were clear of the houses.  However, there was no indication that any such light-heeled gentry were abroad that night, and the travellers reached the little hostelry whither they were bound without any adventure.

Here they were evidently expected.  The host came out with an air of great respect, and took their horses.  Within, a plentiful supper was prepared for them, to which Tom was ready to do justice after his ride, though Lord Claud ate little and drank less.  Upstairs a commodious chamber with two beds had been prepared.  A fire of logs burnt cheerily on the hearth; and it was plain that some valet had been there earlier in the day, for night clothes and toilet accessories lay about in profusion, to say nothing of a pair of shining rapiers carefully laid upon the mantel shelf.

Lord Claud took these down and examined them with care.  Then he handed one to Tom.

“Just a few passes, trusty Tom, as is my habit ere sleeping the night before a duel.  I like to make test of the weapon with which I shall meet my antagonist in the morning.”

Tom was delighted to show off his newly-learned skill, and was complimented by Lord Claud on his progress.

“My adversary’s second may desire to cross swords with you, Tom,” remarked Lord Claud as he began to undress. “’Tis a foolish habit; but you must not seem to shrink.  Show him that you care nothing for his sword, and I will then interpose to stop the second fight.  It may not be offered; but, again, it may.”

And, as the pair prepared for bed, the elder man instructed his companion in all the details of duelling, that he might be prepared to play his part on the morrow with confidence and aplomb.

“I have a few excellent rules of my own, Tom, and I have never been worsted once, and only once wounded.  I neither drink, nor dice, nor dance, nor weary myself the previous day.  I go overnight to the place of meeting, and I retire to bed early and sleep sound.  I take a modest breakfast, without wine or spirit, an hour before the meeting; and I come to the ground with a head as cool and a hand as steady as though no such thing as danger or death existed in the world.  Some men pride themselves on sitting up and dicing and drinking away the night, to show their own courage and their contempt for their adversary.  I prefer to show mine by leaving him prostrate on the field!”

It certainly seemed as though Lord Claud’s methods were good, for he slept like a child all night, better than Tom did, who had been greatly excited by the events of the day and the prospect of the morrow; and when he was dressed upon the following morning, still in his sober riding suit that became him so well, Tom thought he had never seen anybody looking so thoroughly master of himself and his circumstances.  The very glance of the eye seemed to bespeak victory, as did the quiet resolution of the grave mouth.

Breakfast over ­an early meal taken by the light of candles, yet excellent of its kind ­and the pair went forth together, Tom carrying the two rapiers, as it was his duty to do.

The sun was just about to rise, and the mists lying over the river and fields were growing silver in the light, as they came in sight of the group of elms which had seen so many foolish and bloody contests between angry men, some of whom scarce knew why they fought at all, save that it was the fashion.

From the opposite direction three other figures were approaching ­two tall men and one little one.

“They bring a surgeon,” quoth Lord Claud, with a smile on his face; “perchance they are wise.  For myself, I never trouble to do so.  I count a leech a needless encumbrance.”

Tom looked curiously at the two foremost men as they drew near.  One of them struck him in particular.  He was very tall and very strongly made, though clumsy in figure and swarthy in face.  He had the look almost of a foreigner, Tom thought, with black eyes that twinkled with an evil and sinister expression, and never showed more than as a slit between half-shut lids.  He was marked with smallpox, and had taken no pains, today at any rate, to disguise the ravages of that malady.  He walked a little in advance of his companions, and when he got near to Lord Claud he stopped and made a sweeping bow, his eyes the while scanning Tom’s face and figure most closely.

“This is not the gentleman who waited on me,” he said in a rasping voice.

“No; that gentleman is laid up in his bed, and cannot keep his appointment; but this one will do the business equally well.

“Mr. Tufton of Gablehurst; let me present him to you, Sir James.”

The swarthy man looked Tom over from head to foot with an insolent stare.

“A fine young cub,” he said at length, “and well grown for his years.  One of the gang, I suppose?” and there was an ugly sneer upon his thick lips.

Tom looked at Lord Claud, wondering what the meaning of those words could be; but the quiet face looked as if carved in marble, save only that the eyes glowed like fire in their sockets.

He signed to Tom to produce the rapiers; and the second man came forward and examined and tested them, selecting that which his principal should use.  Then the ground was stepped, the most level place selected, and the two combatants stripped off coat and waistcoat, and prepared for the fray.

Tom drew his breath hard as he watched the commencement of the fight, and his face was full of anxiety, as he felt that the man addressed as Sir James had weight and length of reach beyond anything that Lord Claud could command.  But for a while both the men fought warily and without attempting to get to close quarters, and Tom began to lose his first breathless excitement, and to watch the play of shining blades with more coolness and observation.

Two rounds had been fought, and neither man was wounded.  But whilst Lord Claud looked just as cool and steady as at the start, the dark adversary was flushed and inclined to pant, and the beads of sweat stood upon his forehead notwithstanding the briskness of the morning air.

Then Tom began to understand where Lord Claud’s advantage lay.  If he could tire out his adversary by keeping on the defensive, then at the last he might get his chance, and lunge at him when he would scarce be able to parry the thrust.

It was easy to see that his weak point was slowness of recovery.  His thrusts were quick and well planted, he had an excellent guard and mastery of the weapon; but he was slow in recovering after making a lunge, and the longer the fight continued the more evident did this defect become.  And it was plain that he was aware of it, for though he pressed upon his antagonist with great determination and with much dexterity of sword play, he was afraid to take advantage of his longer reach and lunge at him boldly; for he knew that if Lord Claud avoided the thrust, he would almost certainly have at him with a counter lunge before he had time to parry.

And, in fact, that was what did at the last happen, after the fight had lasted so long that Tom thought half an hour must surely have gone by.  Both antagonists showed signs of weariness.  It had even been suggested that enough had been done to satisfy the claims of honour; but to that suggestion neither principal would listen.

Sir James was much distressed.  Sweat poured from his brow, his breath came in deep gasps, his face was growing purple.  Lord Claud looked white, but otherwise had not changed in aspect, and the deadly battle light in his eyes was growing brighter and keener.

His heavy antagonist now saw that nothing could serve his purpose but an exercise of sheer weight and brute force, and he pressed on and on with such fury that Tom almost cried aloud in his fear.  But Lord Claud was wary and watchful; he gave way for a while, only parrying the thrusts, and that with not so much force as before; then suddenly Sir James made a furious lunge, and calling out in a strangled voice, “Have at you now!” he all but buried his rapier in his adversary’s body.

All but ­yet not quite; for just at the moment when it seemed impossible to parry the furious stroke, Lord Claud made a curious upward twist of the wrist, caught his adversary’s blade and turned it so that it glanced aside and passed him, whilst he sprang towards him at the same instant, and saying quite coolly, “Sir, methinks your physician would recommend blood letting in your heated condition,” he thrust straight and true at his burly adversary, running the shining blade into his shoulder in such a fashion that the tip of the rapier reappeared red with blood behind him, and he fell forwards with a smothered bellow like that of a bull who is ringed, so that Lord Claud had need of all his quickness to withdraw his rapier in time.

Second and surgeon sprang to the side of the wounded man; but Lord Claud said quite quietly: 

“’Tis no mortal wound.  He has not got his deserts this time.  Are you satisfied, gentlemen, or do you want more with us?”

The second looked up at Tom’s stalwart figure, hesitated a moment, and then professed that he desired to carry matters no further.

Lord Claud handed the rapiers to Tom, coolly resumed his discarded garments, took off his hat with a courtly bow, and walked off with his customary air of easy grace.

“Come, Tom,” he said, “we have managed that well.  The brute will not die, but will only keep his bed a while, and doubtless rise to trouble us again in days to come.  They say he has never felt a wound before, and boasts himself invulnerable.  He will little relish the lesson he has had today.  But he will never forget or forgive; so have a caution when he is your neighbour in any company.  He will rail at his second for not pinking you; but ’twas his own words that daunted the man.  He thought he saw in you a veritable son of the forest, terrible in wrath, invincible in skill ­” and Lord Claud suddenly threw back his head and began to laugh unrestrainedly.

“I did not understand him,” quoth Tom.

“Marry, no ­and no need you should!  You had better not understand too much of the things you see and hear in the world, honest Tom.  And now let us to a more hearty breakfast, and back again to town.  I must show myself today with a lordly grace, and prove to all the world that I need shrink from no man’s gaze.  As for yon black bull, be sure he will breathe no word of this thing.  It would ill mate with his pride for the world to know that he had been spitted like a capon by one whom he has dared to gibe at as the white hind of the forest!”

Lord Claud’s mood had completely changed.  He was gay and merry, and eager after pleasure.  He took Tom hither and thither to half a dozen fine houses, where the ladies gazed with a certain awestruck admiration at this “untamed son of the woods,” as it pleased Lord Claud to call him, whilst they loaded with favours the brilliant young spark, who seemed, when in the mood, to have power to win all hearts.

He was a “dear tormenting devil,” or a “mad fellow, but withal a true Prince Charming;” and just as he talked sound sense and politics with the poet yesterday, so now he beat even the finest of the ladies and their beaux at high-flown nonsense about goddesses and heroes, and the Arcadian bowers where they made a pretence of living and moving.

At the play, to which they went later, he moved from box to box, from tier to tier, taking snuff with the men, saying charming nothings to the ladies; the centre always of a laughing throng, whose proximity must surely have been distressful to any persons so unfashionable as to desire to listen to what the actors were saying.  He even went behind and upon the stage, as spectators were still permitted to do, although there was less of this confusion than a few years before; and he was eagerly welcomed wherever he appeared.

From the play they repaired to more gay houses, where Tom speedily lost his ten guineas at basset, but was too excited to care, and paid over his stakes with a lordly indifference that did credit to his powers of observation and imitation.

It was long past midnight ere they bent their steps homewards, and then, as it was far too late to seek the shelter of Master Cale’s abode, Tom betook himself once more to Lord Claud’s lodgings, and was speedily sound asleep in the most soft and sumptuous bed it had ever been his lot to lie upon.