The Yeoman Adventurer
changing moods and her unchanging beauty. Gad! How cheaply I had bought
this gallery of precious memories!
A throng of lads crowding noisily under the archway heralded the approach
of the dignitaries. First came the town beadle, a pompous little fellow
who wore a laced brown greatcoat many sizes too large for him, and carried
a cudgel of office thick as his own arm, and surmounted by a brass crown
the size of a baby's head. His office enabled him to be brave on the
cheap, so by dint of digging his weapon into the ribs of all and sundry,
they being, as he expressed it, too thick on the clod, he cleared a path
for the grocer-mayor, who had gotten himself again into his scarlet gown.
His worship was gawky, flustered, and uncertain, and listened like a
scared rabbit to mine host, a man of much talk, who explained proudly what
was to be done.
"This is 'im, y'r worship," he said. "A dirty 'oss-thief as badly wants
'anging. Copped in the act, y'r worship, of riding into this 'ere yard o'
mine, as big as bull-beef, sitting on the very 'oss 'e'd stolen from his
lordship 'ere."
His lordship was the Colonel, who had leisurely left his meal again to
settle my hash. I can see him now as he stood on the step of the inn-door,
carefully flicking a stray crumb or two from his waistcoat, and taking the
measure of the man he had to bamboozle, with clear, amused, grey eyes.
"The Mayor of the town, I think," he said softly.
"Yes, your honour," said the good man surreptitiously wiping something,
probably sugar, off his hands on the lining of his gown.
"And his beadle, your lordship," added the host, and the under-strapper
inside the greatcoat saluted the Colonel with a flourish of his tipstaff.
"I am Colonel Waynflete," he answered in level measured tones, "riding on
important business of His Majesty's, and my horse was stolen at an inn,
some miles back, beyond Stafford. But for the kindness of my Lord Brocton
in providing me with another, His Gracious Majesty's affairs would have
been badly disarranged. This fellow came riding in on my horse, Sultan, a
few minutes ago and I ordered his arrest. He is now in your worship's
hands. I leave him there with confidence, merely remarking, on the warrant
of many years' observation in such matters, that he will require a stout
rope."
He nodded to his dithering worship, and marched back slowly and calmly to
his dinner.
"This beats cock-fighting," said mine host admiringly. He spread himself,
happy and conspicuous as a tom-tit on a round of beef, and the crowd,
pleasantly anticipating mugs of beer later on, urged the Mayor to be up
and doing.
"What have you to say for yourself?" said his grocer-ship to me, with a
dim and belated idea, perhaps, that I might be interested in the
proceedings.
"The beadle's coat is much too large for him," said I.
"Yes, yes," he replied hurriedly. "Samson Salt was a big man and had only
had the coat three years when he died, and we couldn't afford a new one
for Timothy. Dear me, but this isn't a council meeting, and what's the
beadle's coat got to do with horse-stealing?"
"As much as I have," I replied gravely.
"Yow've 'ad enough, my lad," said the host, "to last y'r the rest of y'r
life. The next 'oss you rides'll be foaled of an acorn. Let Timothy put
him in clink, Master Mayor, and come and have a noggin of the real thing.
Gom, I'm that dry my belly'll be thinking my throat's cut."
"Arrest this man, Timothy Tomkins, and put him in jail till I can take
due order for his trial."
Timothy turned up the sleeves of his coat, and arrested me by placing his
hand on my arm, and flourishing the brass crown in my face.
"Don't hurt me, Timothy," I said. "I'll come like a lamb, and I'll go
slow lest you should tumble over the tail of your coat."
"If you say another word about the blasted coat I'll split your head
open," was his angry reply. It was evidently a sore topic with him and a
familiar one with his frugal townsmen, for some man in the crowd cried
out, "'Tinna big enough for the missis, be it, Timothy?" And while the
peppery little beadle's eyes were searching the japer out, another added,
"More's the pity, for 'er's a bit of a light-skirt." At this there was a
roar of laughter, so I saved the frenzied officer further trouble by
saying, "Come along, Timothy. Let's go to jail."
On the Mayor's orders, mine host despoiled me of the sergeant's tuck, and
Timothy marched me off to the jail, the rabble following, as full of
chatter as a nest of magpies. The jail was a small stone building,
standing, like the town hall, in the middle of the street. Arrived there,
Timothy thrust me into an ill-lit dirty hole below the level of the
street, locked the door behind me, and left me to my reflections.
The only furniture of the den was a rude bench. A nap would do me good,
so, after a good pull at Kate's precious cordial, I curled up on the bench
and in a few minutes was sound asleep. And in my sleep I dreamed that two
blue stars were twinkling at me through a golden cloud.
CHAPTER XII
THE GUEST-ROOM OF THE "RISING SUN"
A wisp of cloud, a long trail of shimmering gold, broke loose, swept with
the touch of softest silk across my cheek, and half awakened me. I was
lazily and sleepily regretting that such caresses only came in dreams,
when I was brought sharply back to full life by a ripple of hearty
laughter.
"Gloat on!" said I complacently.
"I knew you'd slip some time or other. Gloat! Of course I shall gloat."
And she laughed again. I should have borne it easily enough, coming from
her, under any circumstances, but there was one circumstance which made it
a pure joy. The white hands were busy with her unruly yellow hair, and I
was so far gone foolward that I was in some sort hopeful that they were
imprisoning the wisp of golden cloud that had awakened me. I bitterly
regretted that I was not as nimble at waking as Jack. He would be sleeping
like a leg of mutton one second and, at the touch of a feather, as wide
awake as a weasel the next. I took time--it was the Latin rubbish
cumbering my brain, he used to say--or I might have made sure.
Mistress Margaret was perched on the edge of my bench. She seemed in no
hurry to move, and I could not get up till she did, so I lay still,
cradling my head in my hands, and looked contentedly at her. It was now so
gloomy that I had evidently been asleep some time.
"I knew you'd slip," she repeated with great zest. "All men do. And I'm
glad you slipped, for it proved you human. I was getting quite overawed by
the terrible precision with which you did exactly the right thing at
exactly the right time. It made me feel so very small and inferior, and no
woman likes that. It's not nice."
"Or natural," said I.
"I see you're unmistakably awake, sir!" was the tart reply. She rose and
took short turns up and down the cell and went on: "But why slip into
jail, Master Wheatman? Why did you not tell father who you were and what
you had done for me?"
"And so prove at once to the authorities in the town that he was not what
he pretended to be!"
"Ho!" she said, and stopped short.
"Our idea was, I think, to free the Colonel, if we could."
"Yes." She was not gloating now, but wondering.
"Well, madam, I found him free, and the only advantage I can see in your
plan is, that I should have had him as a companion in jail. Whereas now
I've mended my night's sleep with a refreshing nap, and Master Freake has
so lucidly explained things to the Mayor that Timothy of the long coat is
kicking his heels at the top of the stairs, and wondering how much longer
you're going to be. Shall we once more breathe the upper air, as Virgil
would put it? This hole is as bad as a corner in his under-world."
"And I laughed at you for slipping, Master Wheatman! I shall never dare
to look you in the face again."
"Don't you believe it, madam," said I airily, leading the way to the
steps. "I've heard Copper Nob say the same thing scores of times."
"Who's Copper Nob?"
The question came like the crack of a whip, and I was glad the familiar
phrase had slipped out unawares and diverted her.
"Our Kate," I explained.
"Oh indeed, sir! A more beautiful head of hair no woman in this land
possesses, and you glibly call her 'Copper Nob.' Doubtless you have
selected some nice expressive name for me!"
"I shouldn't dare!" I protested hotly.
"Why not? You do it for her, brazenly and wantonly."
"Yes, madam, but she's my sister."
"How does that assure me?"
"A man's sister isn't a woman," said I, and went ahead and pushed open
the door. There, sure enough, was Timothy, looking very uncertain and
rueful. The little man's complaisance had given me the greatest wonder of
my life--Margaret's silent watching over me as I lay asleep, and I gave
him a guinea with much gladness.
"The coat's too big for you, Timothy, and it's no good denying it. I'll
speak to his worship about a new one of the right length."
"Thank yer, sir," he said, grinning oafishly as he pouched the guinea.
"I'd rather have a new coat than a new missus, and, swelp me bob, I want
both."
Margaret joined me, and we at once made our way to the "Rising Sun." Work
for the day was over, and the street was now getting thronged and noisy.
Many curious looks were bent on us, but no one dared to interfere with a
man of my evil reputation, a horse-thief being the last thing in
desperadoes. We had only a few yards to go, but my mistress apprised me in
sweet whisperings that Master Freake's explanation was that Sultan had
been innocently obtained from the real thief, that I was his servant, and,
not knowing of the horse deal, had loyally kept silent lest I should make
mischief--a happy and reasonably truthful rendering of the real facts.
"After his private talk with Master Mayor," she added, "that worthy man's
knees were as hard worked as the hinges of an ale-house door."
"The poor cringeling is but a grocer," said I, as we turned in under the
archway of the "Rising Sun." The host saw us through the kitchen window,
and ran out to usher us in with the assurance of a brass weathercock.
"Sommat like a jail delivery, eh, y'r 'onour? Gom, if I wudna pinch fifty
'osses to be fetched out o' clink by such a bonny lady, begging your
ladyship's pardon."
"She shall fetch you out," said I sourly, "when you're jailed for not
stealing."
"His honour's commands are a law unto his handmaiden," said Margaret
demurely and icily, addressing him, but aiming point-blank at me. Her shot
blew me clean out of the water, and I stood there guggling like a born
idiot. "Curse you, will you never get out of your yokel's ways?" said I to
myself. It was as if I had said to the sergeant, speaking of Jane, "She
shall draw you a mug of beer." I was clean nonplussed, and felt as
uncomfortable as a boiling crawfish, but fortunately rattle-pate came to
my aid and drowned my confusion in a flood of words.
"And all he said, y'r ladyship, was that Timothy's coat was too big for
'im. Gom, it beat cock-fighting, it did. Swelp me bob it did. I never saw
a man so staggered as the Mayor, but he's got over it fine, and gone 'ome,
good man, with a crick in his back and near on a pint of my best brandy in
his belly. When these 'ere wild Highland rappers and renders come, he's
just primed up to make 'em a grand speech at bridge yonder, and if that
dunna frighten 'em off, nuthin' wull, and my cellars will be as ill filled
with beer as Timothy's coat is with brawn. I'm getting the best supper on
the Chester road for yer, y'r honour, and that'll mike you feel as bold as
sixpence among sixpenn'orth o' coppers. But come along, y'r ladyship. The
Colonel's upstairs. Follow me!"
Words ran out of him like ale out of a stunned barrel. He clacked on