As the gypsy ended her warning she
sprang forward, saying, “Follow me, for your
life, sir.” Harry did not hesitate.
He heard several footsteps coming down the lane, and
drawing his sword he followed his guide at a run.
As he did so there was a shout among the men behind
him and these set off in hot pursuit. Harry kept
close to the girl, who turned down another lane even
more narrow than that they were leaving. A few
paces further she stopped, opened a door and entered.
Harry followed her in and she closed the door behind
her.
“Hush!” she whispered.
“There are men here as bad as those without.
Take off your shoes.”
Harry did as directed. He was
in pitch darkness. Taking him by the hand, the
girl led him forward for some distance.
“There is a staircase here,” she whispered.
Still holding his hand, she began
to mount the stairs. As they passed each landing
Harry heard the voices of men in the rooms on either
side. At last they arrived at the top of the
house. Here she opened a door, and led Harry
into a room.
“Are you here, mother?” she asked.
There was no answer. The girl
uttered an exclamation of thankfulness; then, after
groping about, she found a tinder-box, and struck a
light.
“You are safe here for the present.
This is my room, where I live with my mother.
At least,” she sighed, “she calls herself
my mother, and is the only one I have known.”
“Is it possible,” Harry
asked in surprise, “that one like yourself can
live in such an abode as this?”
“I am safe here,” she
answered. “There are five men of my tribe
in the next room, and fierce and brutal as are the
men of these courts, none of them would care to quarrel
with the gypsies. But now I have got you here,
how am I to get you away?”
“If the gypsies are so feared,
I might go out with them,” Harry said.
“Alas!” the girl answered,
“they are as had as the others. And even
if they were disposed to aid you for the kindness
you have shown me, I doubt if they could do so.
Assuredly they would not run the risk of thwarting
the cutthroats here for the sake of saving you.”
“Could you go and tell the watch?” Harry
asked.
“The watch never comes here,”
the girl replied, shaking her head. “Were
they to venture up these lanes it would be like entering
a hive of bees. This is an Alsatia a
safe refuge for assassins and robbers.”
“I have got myself into a nice
mess,” Harry said. “It seems to me
I had better sally out and take my chance.”
“Look,” the girl said,
going to the window and opening it.
Peering out, Harry saw below a number
of men with swords and knives drawn. One or two
had torches, and they were examining every doorway
and court. Outside the window ran a parapet.
“They will search like hounds,”
the girl continued. “They must know that
you have not gone far. If they come here you must
take to the parapet, and go some distance along.
Now, I must try and find some disguise for you.”
At this moment the door opened, and
an old woman entered. She uttered an exclamation
of astonishment at seeing Harry, and turning angrily
to the girl, spoke to her in the gypsy dialect.
For two or three minutes the conversation continued
in that language; then the old woman turned to Harry,
and said in English:
“My daughter tells me that you
have got into a broil on her behalf. There are
few gentlemen who draw sword for a gypsy. I will
do my best to aid you, but it will be difficult to
get a gallant like yourself out of this place.”
Her eye fell covetously upon the jewel
in Harry’s hat. He noticed the glance.
“Thanks, dame,” he said;
“I will gladly repay your services. Will
you accept this token?” And removing the jewel
from the hat, he offered it to her.
The girl uttered an angry exclamation
as the old woman seized it, and after examining it
by the candle light, placed it in a small iron coffer.
Harry felt he had done wisely, for the old woman’s
face bore a much warmer expression of good-will than
had before characterized it.
“You cannot leave now,”
she said. “I heard as I came along that
a well-dressed gallant had been seen in the lanes,
and every one’s mouth is on water. They
said that they thought he had some woman with him,
but I did not dream it was Zita. You cannot leave
to-night; to-morrow I will get you some clothes of
my son’s, and in these you should be able to
escape without detection.”
Very slowly the hours passed.
The women at times talked together in Romaic, while
Harry, who had possession of the only chair in the
room, several times nodded off to sleep. In the
morning there was a movement heard in the next room,
and the old woman went in there.
“Surely that woman cannot be
your mother?” Harry said to the girl.
“She is not,” she answered.
“I believe that I was stolen as a child; indeed,
they have owned as much. But what can I do?
I am one of them. What can a gypsy do? We
are good for nothing but to sing and to steal.”
“If I get free from this scrape,”
Harry said, “you may be sure that shall not
be ungrateful, and if you long to leave this life,
I can secure you a quiet home in England with my father.”
The girl clasped her hands in delight.
“Oh, that would be too good!”
she exclaimed. “Too good; but I fear it
can never be.”
She put her fingers to her lips, as
the door again opened. The old woman entered,
carrying some clothes.
“Here,” she said; “they
have gone out; put these on, Zita and I will go out
and see if the coast is clear.”
Harry, smiling to himself at the singularity
of his having twice to disguise himself as a gypsy,
rapidly changed his clothes. Presently the old
woman returned.
“Quick,” she exclaimed;
“I hear that the news of the riot in the drinking-house
has got about this morning, and it is known that an
Englishman, something like the one seen in the lanes,
took Zita’s part, and there are suspicions that
it was she who acted as his guide. They have
been roughly questioning us. I told her to go
on to avoid suspicion, while I ran back. You
cannot stir out now, and I heard a talk of searching
our rooms. Come, then, we may find a room unoccupied
below; you must take refuge there for the present.”
Harry still retained his sword, incongruous
as it was with his attire, but he had determined to
hide it under his clothes, so that, if detected, he
might be able at least to sell his life. Taking
it in his hand, he followed the old woman downstairs.
She listened at each door, and continued downward
until she reached the first floor.
“I can hear no one here,”
she said, listening at a door. “Go up a
few steps; I will knock. If any one is there
I can make some excuse.”
She knocked, but there was no answer.
Then she drew from her pocket a piece of bent wire,
and inserted it in the keyhole.
“We gypsies can enter where
we will,” she said, beckoning Harry to enter
as the door opened. “Wait quiet here till
I come for you. The road will be clear then.”
So saying, she closed the door behind him, and again
shot the bolt.
Harry felt extremely uncomfortable.
Should the owner of the room return, he would be taken
for a thief, although, as he thought, looking round
the room, there was little enough to steal. It
was a large room, with several truckle beds standing
against the walls. In the center was a table,
upon which were some mugs, horns, and empty bottles,
with some dirty cards scattered about. The place
smelled strongly of tobacco, and benches lying on
the ground showed that the party of the night before
had ended in a broil, further evidence to which was
given by stains of blood on one of the beds, and by
a rag saturated with blood, which lay beside it.
At one side of the room was a door, giving communication
into the next apartment. Scarcely had Harry entered
when he heard voices there, and was surprised to find
that the speakers were English.
“I tell you I’m sick of
this,” one of the speakers said. “I
might be as well hanged at home as starved here.”
“You might enlist,” another
voice said, in sneering tones. “Gallant
soldiers are welcome in the Low Countries.”
“You’d best keep your
sneering tongue between your lips,” the other
said angrily. “If I don’t care for
fighting in the field, I can use a knife at a pinch,
as you know full well. You will carry your gibes
too far with me some day. No,” he went
on more calmly, after a pause, “I shall go back
to England next week, after Marmaduke Harris and his
gang have finished Oliver, The country will be turned
so topsy-turvy that there will be no nice inquiry
into bygones, and at any rate I can keep out of London.”
“Yes, it will be wise to do
that,” the other said, since that little affair
when the mercer and his wife in Cheap were found with
their throats cut, and you ”
“Fire and furies! John
Marlow, do you want three inches of steel in your
ribs?”
“By no means!” the other
answered. “You have become marvelously
straightlaced all at once. As you know, I have
been concerned in as many affairs as you have.
Aha! I have had a merry time of it!”
“And may again,” the other
said. “Noll once dead, there will be good
times for us again. It is a pity that you and
I were too well known to have a hand in the job.
Dost think there is any chance of a failure?”
“None,” the other replied.
“It is in good hands. Black Harry has bribed
a cook wench, who will open the back door. They
say he was to return to London this week, and if so
Sunday is fixed for the affair. Five days yet,
and say another week for the news to get here.
In a fortnight we will be on our way to England.
There, I am thirsty, and we left the bottle in the
next room. We had a late night of it with the
boys there.”
During this conversation, to which
Harry listened breathlessly, he had heard the tramp
of feet going upstairs, and just as they finished
speaking these had descended again. A moment later
the door between the two rooms opened, and a man in
the faded finery of a Royalist gentleman entered.
“Fires and furies!” he
exclaimed. “Whom have we here? Marlow,
here is an eavesdropper or a thief. We will slit
his weasand. Aha!” he said, gazing fixedly
at Harry, “you are Colonel Furness. I know
you. You had me flogged the day before Worcester,
for helping myself to an old woman’s purse.
It is my turn now.”
Joined by his fellow ruffian he fell
upon Harry, but they were no match for the Royalist
colonel. After a few rapid thrusts and parries
he ran his first assailant through the body and cut
down the man called Marlow, with a sweeping blow which
nearly cleft his head asunder.
Scarcely was the conflict ended when
the door opened, and the old gypsy entered. She
started at seeing the bodies of the two ruffians.
“I have been attacked,”
Harry said briefly, “and have defended myself.”
“It is no business of mine,”
the old woman remarked. “When I have guided
you out I will come back again. It’s strange
if there’s not something worth picking up.
Now, pull your hat well over your eyes and follow me.”
Closing and locking the door again,
she led the way downstairs.
“Do not walk so straight and
stiff,” she said. “Slouch your shoulders,
and stoop your head. Now.”
Harry sallied out into the lane, keeping
by the side of his guide, with his head bent forward,
and his eyes on the ground, walking, as far as he
could, with a listless gait. The old woman continued
to chatter to him in Romaic. There were many
people about in the lane, but none paid any heed to
them. Harry did not look up, but turned with his
guide down several lanes, until they at length emerged
on the quays. Saying she would call next day
at his hotel for the reward he had promised her, she
left him, and Harry, with his head full of the plot
against Cromwell’s life, crossed at once to
the vessels by the quay.
“Is any ship sailing for the Thames to-day?”
he asked.
“Yes,” the sailor said.
“The Mary Anne is just hoisting her anchor now,
out there in midstream. You will be but just in
time, for the anchor’s under her foot.”
Harry sprang into a boat and told
the waterman to row to the ship. The latter stared
in astonishment at the authoritative manner in which
this gypsy addressed him, but Harry thrust his hand
into his pocket, and showed him some silver.
“Quick, man,” he said,
“for she is moving. You will have double
fare to put me on board.”
The man pulled vigorously, and they
were soon alongside the brig.
“Halloo! what now?” the
captain said, looking over the side.
“I want a passage to England,
and will pay you your own price.”
“You haven’t been killing
any one, have you?” the captain asked. “I
don’t want to have trouble when I come back
here, for carrying off malefactors.”
“No, indeed,” Harry said,
as he lightly leaped on the deck. “I am
Sir Harry Furness, though I may not look it, and am
bound to England on urgent business. It is all
right, my good fellow, and here is earnest money for
my passage,” and he placed two pieces of gold
in the captain’s hand.
“That will do,” the captain said.
“I will take you.”
Harry went to the side.
“Here, my man, is your money,
and a crown piece beside. Go to the Hotel
des Étoiles and ask for the English officer
who is there lying sick. Tell him Colonel Furness
has been forced to leave for England at a moment’s
notice, but will be back by the first ship.”
The man nodded, and rowed back to
shore as the Mary Anne, with her sails hoisted, ran
down the river.
Never did a voyage appear longer to
an anxious passenger than did that of the Mary Anne
to England. The winds were light and baffling,
and at times the Mary Anne scarce moved through the
water. Harry had no love for Cromwell. Upon
the contrary, he regarded him as the deadliest enemy
of the king, and moreover personally hated him for
the cruel massacre of Drogheda. In battle he
would have gladly slain him, but he was determined
to save him from assassination. He felt the man
to be a great Englishman, and knew that it was greatly
due to his counsels that so little English blood had
been shed upon the scaffold. Most of all, he
thought that his assassination would injure the royal
cause. The time was not yet ripe for a restoration.
England had shown but lately that there existed no
enthusiasm for the royal cause. At Cromwell’s
death the chief power would fall into the hands of
fanatics more dangerous and more violent than he.
His murder would be used as a weapon for a wholesale
persecution of the Royalists throughout the land, and
would create such a prejudice against them that the
inevitable reaction in favor of royalty would be retarded
for years. Full of these thoughts, Harry fretted
and fumed over the slow progress of the Mary Anne.
Late on Saturday night she entered the mouth of the
Thames, and anchored until the tide turned. Before
daybreak she was on her way, and bore up on the tide
as far as Gravesend, when she had again to anchor.
Harry obtained a boat and was rowed to shore.
In his present appearance, he did not like to go to
one of the principal inns for a horse, but entering
a small one on the outskirts of the place, asked the
landlord if he could procure him a horse.
“I am not what I seem,”
he said, in answer to his host’s look of surprise.
“But I have urgent need to get to London this
evening. I will pay well for the horse, and will
leave this ring with you as a guarantee for his safe
return.”
“I have not a horse myself,”
the landlord said, with more respect than he had at
first shown; “but I might get one from my neighbor
Harry Fletcher, the butcher. Are you willing
to pay a guinea for his use? Fletcher will drive
you himself.”
Harry agreed to the sum, and a quarter
of an hour later the man, with a light horse and cart,
came to the door.
“You are a strange-looking carle,”
he said, “to be riding on a Sunday in haste;
I scarce like being seen with thee.”
“I have landed but an hour ago,”
Harry said, “and can buy no clothes to-day;
but if you or mine host here, who is nearer my size,
have a decent suit which you can sell me, I will pay
you double the sum it cost.”
The landlord at once agreed to the
terms, and five minutes later Harry, clad in the sober
garb of a decent tradesman, mounted the cart.
The horse was not a fast one, and the roads were bad.
It was nigh six o’clock before they reached
London. Paying Fletcher the sum agreed upon,
Harry walked rapidly westward. Cromwell was abiding
in a house in Pall Mall. Upon Harry arriving
there he was asked his business.
“The general is ill,”
the servant said, “and can see no one.”
“I must see him,” Harry
urged. “It is a matter of the extremest
importance.”
“See him you cannot,”
the man repeated, “and it were waste of words
to talk further on the matter. Dost think that,
even were he well, the general, with all the affairs
of the Commonwealth on his shoulders, has time to
see every gossiping citizen who would have speech with
him?”
Harry slipped a gold piece into the man’s hand.
“It is useless,” the man
said. “The general is, as I truly told thee,
ill.”
Harry stood in despair, “Could
you gain me speech with the general’s wife?”
“Ay,” the man said.
“I might do that. What name shall say?”
“She would not know my name.
Merely say that one wishes to speak to her on a matter
nearly touching the safety of the general.”
“Hadst thou said that at once,”
the man grumbled, “I might have admitted you
before. There are many rumors of plots on the
part of the malignants against the life of the general.
I will take your message to Madam Cromwell, and she
can deal with it as she will.”
The man was absent for a few minutes.
Then he returned with an officer.
“Can you tell me,” the
latter asked, “what you have to reveal?”
“No,” Harry replied, “I
must speak with the general himself.”
“Beware,” the officer
said sternly, “that you trifle not. The
general is sick, and has many things on his mind;
’twill be ill for you if you disturb him without
cause.”
“The cause is sufficient,”
Harry said. “I would see him in person.”
Without a word the officer turned
and led the way to a room upstairs, where Cromwell
was sitting at a table, His wife was near him.
A Bible lay open before him. Cromwell looked
steadily at Harry.
“I hear that you have a matter
of importance to tell me, young man, and one touching
my safety. I know that there are many who thirst
for my blood. But I am in the hands of the Lord,
who has so far watched over His servant. If there
be truth in what you have to tell you will be rewarded.”
“I seek for no reward,”
Harry said. “I have gained knowledge of
a plot against your life. Do you wish that I
should speak in the presence of this officer?”
“Assuredly,” the general said.
“Briefly, then, I have arrived
from Hamburg but now to give you warning of a matter
which came to my ears. I overheard, how it matters
not, a conversation between two rascals who gave themselves
out as Royalists, but who were indeed rather escaped
criminals, to the effect that men had gone over thence
to England with the intention of killing you.
The plot was to come off to-night, Whether there be
any change in the arrangements or no I cannot say,
but the matter was, as they said, fixed for to-night.
One of the women servants has been bribed to open the
back entrance and to admit them there, More than this
I know not.”
“You speak, sir, as one beyond
your station,” Cromwell said; “and methinks
I know both your face and figure, which are not easily
forgotten when once seen.”
“It matters not who I am,”
Harry replied, “so that the news I bring be
true. I am no friend of yours, but a servant of
King Charles. Though I would withstand you to
the death in the field, I would not that a life like
yours should be cut short by assassination; or that
the royal cause should be sullied by such a deed,
the dishonor of which, though planned and carried
out by a small band of desperate partisans, would yet,
in the eyes of the world, fall upon all who followed
King Charles.”
“You are bold, sir,” Cromwell
said. “But I wonder not, for I know you
now. We have met, so far as I know, but once before.
That was after Drogheda, where you defended the church,
and where I spared your life at the intercession of
my chaplain. I heard of you afterward as having,
by a desperate enterprise, escaped, and afterward
captured a ship with prisoners; and as having inflicted
heavy loss and damage upon the soldiers of Parliament.
You fought at Dunbar and Worcester, and, if I mistake
not, incurred the enmity of the Earl of Argyll.”
“I am Sir Harry Furness,”
Harry said calmly; “his majesty having been
pleased to bestow upon me the honor of knighthood.
Nor are you mistaken touching the other matters, since
you yourself agreed at the lonely house on the moor
to hand me over to Colonel Campbell, as his price for
betraying the post I commanded. That matter, as
you may remember, turned out otherwise than had been
expected. I am not ashamed of my name, nor have
I any fear of its being known to you. I have come
over to do you service, and fear not harm at your
hands when on such business.”
“Why then did you not tell me at once?”
Cromwell asked.
“Simply because I seek no favor
at your hands. I would not that you should think
that Harry Furness sought to reconcile himself with
the Commons, by giving notice of a plot against your
life. I am intending to start for Virginia and
settle there, and would not stoop to sue for amnesty,
though I should never see Furness Hall or England again.”
Harry spoke in a tone of haughty frankness,
which carried conviction with it.
“I doubt you not,” Cromwell
said. “You have been a bitter foe to the
Commons, Colonel Furness, but it is not of men like
you that we need be afraid. You meet us fairly
in the field, and fight us loyally and honorably.
It is the tricksters, the double-dealers, and the traitors,
the men who profess to be on our side but who burrow
in the dark against us, who trouble our peace.
In this matter I am greatly beholden to you.
Now that you have given us warning of the plot, it
will be met if attempted. But should these men’s
hearts fail them, or for any other cause the attempt
be laid aside, I shall be none the less indebted to
you. I trust, Colonel Furness, that you will not
go to the plantations. England needs honest men
here. There is a great work yet to be done before
happiness and quiet are restored; and we need all wise
and good men in the counsels of the state. Be
assured that you are free to return and dwell with
the Cavalier, your father, at your pleasure. He
drew aside from the strife when he saw that the cause
he fought for was hopeless, and none have interfered
with him. Charles will, methinks, fight no more
in England. His cause is lost, and wise men will
adapt themselves to the circumstances. Let me
know where you lodge to-night. You will hear
further from me to-morrow.”