FitzHerbert will be released as soon as Topcliffe is gone."
"You are sure this time, sir?"
He a.s.sented by a movement of his head.
"I dared not tell Mrs. Thomas just now. She would give me no peace. I said it was but a rumour, and so it is; but it is a rumour that hath truth behind it. He hath been moved, too, these three days back, to another cell, and hath every comfort."
He shook his head again.
"But he hath made no promise--" began Marjorie breathlessly.
"It is exactly that which I am most afraid of," said the lawyer. "If he had yielded, and, consented to go to church, it would have been in every man"s mouth by now. But he hath not, and I should fear it less if he had. That"s the very worst part of my news."
"I do not understand--"
Mr. Biddell tapped his papers on the table.
"If he were an open and confessed enemy, I should fear it less," he repeated. "It is not that. But he must have given some promise to Topcliffe that pleases the fellow more. And what can that be but that--"
Marjorie turned yet whiter. She sighed once as if to steady herself. She could not speak, but she nodded.
"Yes, Mistress Manners," said the old man. "I make no doubt at all that he hath promised to a.s.sist him against them all--against Mr. John his father, it may be, or Mr. Ba.s.sett, or G.o.d knows whom! And yet still feigning to be true! And that is not all."
She looked at him. She could not conceive worse than this, if indeed it were true.
"And do you think," he continued, "that Mr. Topcliffe will do all this for love, or rather, for mere malice? I have heard more of the fellow since he hath been in Derby than in all my life before; and, I tell you, he is for feathering his own nest if he can." He stopped.
"Mistress, did you know that he had been out to Padley three or four times since he came to Derby?... Well, I tell you now that he has. Mr.
John was away, praise G.o.d; but the fellow went all round the place and greatly admired it."
"He went out to see what he could find?" asked the girl, still whispering.
The other shook his head.
"No, mistress; he searched nothing. I had it all from one of his fellows, through one of mine. He searched nothing; he sat a great while in the garden, and ate some of the fruit; he went through the hall and the rooms, and admired all that was to be seen there. He went up into the chapel-room, too, though there was nothing there to tell him what it was; and he talked a great while to one of the men about the farms, and the grazing, and such-like, but he meddled with nothing." (The old man"s face suddenly wrinkled into fury.) "The devil went through it all like that, and admired it; and he came out to it again two or three times and did the like."
He stopped to examine the notes he had made, and Marjorie sat still, staring on him.
It was worse than anything she could have conceived possible. That a FitzHerbert should apostatise was incredible enough; but that one should sell his family--It was impossible.
"Mr. Biddell," she whispered piteously, "it cannot be. It is some--"
He shook his head suddenly and fiercely.
"Mistress Manners, it is as plain as daylight to me. Do you think I could believe it without proof? I tell you I have lain awake all last night, fitting matters one into the other. I did not hear about Padley till last night, and it gave me all that I needed. I tell you Topcliffe hath cast his foul eyes on Padley and coveted it; and he hath demanded it as a price for Mr. Thomas" liberty. I do not know what else he hath promised, but I will stake my fortune that Padley is part of it. That is why he is so elated. He hath been here nearly this three months back; he hath visited Mr. FitzHerbert nigh every day; he hath cajoled him, he hath threatened him; he hath worn out his spirit by the gaol and the stinking food and the loneliness; and he hath prevailed, as he hath prevailed with many another. And the end of it all is that Mr.
FitzHerbert hath yielded--yet not openly. Maybe that is part of the bargain upon the other side, that he should keep his name before the world. And on this side he hath promised Padley, if that he may but keep the rest of the estates, and have his liberty. I tell you that alone cuts all the knots of this tangle.... Can you cut them in any other manner?"
There was a long silence. From the direction of the kitchen came the sound of cheerful voices, and the clatter of lids, and from the walled garden outside the chatter of birds....
At last the girl spoke.
"I cannot believe it without evidence," she said. "It may be so. G.o.d knows! But I do not.... Mr. Biddell?"
"Well, mistress?"
The lawyer"s head was sunk on his breast; he spoke listlessly.
"He will have given some writing to Mr. Topcliffe, will he not? if this be true. Mr. Topcliffe is not the man--"
The old man lifted his head sharply; then he nodded.
"That is the shrewd truth, mistress. Mr. Topcliffe will not trust to another"s honour; he hath none of his own!"
"Well," said Marjorie, "if all this be true, Mr. Topcliffe will already have that writing in his possession."
She paused.
"Eh?" said the lawyer.
They looked at one another again in silence. It would have seemed to another that the two minds talked swiftly and wordlessly together, the trained thought of the lawyer and the quick wit of the woman; for when the man spoke again, it was as if they had spoken at length.
"But we must not destroy the paper," he said, "or the fat will be in the fire. We must not let Mr. FitzHerbert know that he is found out."
"No," said the girl. "But to get a view of it.... And a copy of it, to send to his family."
Again the two looked each at the other in silence--as if they were equals--the old man and the girl.
II
It was the last night before the Londoners were to return.
They had lived royally these last three months. The agent of the Council had had a couple of the best rooms in the inn that looked on to the market-square, where he entertained his friends, and now and then a magistrate or two. Even Mr. Audrey, of Matstead, had come to him once there, with another, but had refused to stay to supper, and had ridden away again alone.
Downstairs, too, his men had fared very well indeed. They knew how to make themselves respected, for they carried arms always now, since the unfortunate affair a day after the arrival, when two of them had been gravely battered about by two rustic servants, who, they learned, were members of a Popish household in the town. But all the provincial fellows were not like this. There was a big man, half clerk and half man-servant to a poor little lawyer, who lived across the square--a man of no wit indeed, but, at any rate, one of means and of generosity, too, as they had lately found out--means and generosity, they understood, that were made possible by the unknowing a.s.sistance of his master. In a word it was believed among Mr. Topcliffe"s men that all the refreshment which they had lately enjoyed, beyond that provided by their master, was at old Mr. Biddell"s expense, though he did not know it, and that George Beaton, fool though he was, was a cleverer man than his employer.
Lately, too, they had come to learn, that although George Beaton was half clerk, half man-servant, to a Papist, he was yet at heart as stout a Protestant as themselves, though he dared not declare it for fear of losing his place.
On this last night they made very merry indeed, and once or twice the landlord pushed his head through the doorway. The baggage was packed, and all was in readiness for a start soon after dawn.
There came a time when George Beaton said that he was stifling with the heat; and, indeed, in this low-ceilinged room after supper, with the little windows looking on to the court, the heat was surprising. The men sat in their shirts and trunks. So that it was as natural as possible that George should rise from his place and sit down again close to the door where the cool air from the pa.s.sage came in; and from there, once more, he led the talk, in his character of rustic and open-handed boor; he even beat the sullen man who was next him genially over the head to make him give more room, and then he proposed a toast to Mr. Topcliffe.
It was about half an hour later, when George was becoming a little anxious, that he drew out at last a statement that Mr. Topcliffe had a great valise upstairs, full of papers that had to do with his law business. (He had tried for this piece of information last night and the night before, but had failed to obtain it.) Ten minutes later again, then, when the talk had moved to affairs of the journey, and the valise had been forgotten, it was an entirely unsuspicious circ.u.mstance that George and the man that sat next him should slip out to take the air in the stable-court. The Londoner was so fuddled with drink as to think that he had gone out at his own deliberate wish; and there, in the fresh air, the inevitable result followed; his head swam, and he leaned on big George for support. And here, by the one stroke of luck that visited poor George this evening, it fell that he was just in time to see Mr. Topcliffe himself pa.s.s the archway in the direction of Friar"s Gate, in company with a magistrate, who had supped with him upstairs.
Up to this point George had moved blindly, step by step. He had had his instructions from his master, yet all that he had been able to determine was the general plan to find out where the papers were kept, to remain in the inn till the last possible moment, and to watch for any chance that might open to him. Truly, he had no more than that, except, indeed, a vague idea that it might be necessary to bribe one of the men to rob his master. Yet there was everything against this, and it was, indeed, a last resort. It seemed now, however, that another way was open. It was exceedingly probable that Mr. Topcliffe was off for his last visit to the prisoner, and, since a magistrate was with him, it was exceedingly improbable that he would take the paper with him. It was not the kind of paper--if, indeed, it existed at all--that more persons would be allowed to see than were parties to the very discreditable affair.
And now George spoke earnestly and convincingly. He desired to see the baggage of so great a man as Mr. Topcliffe; he had heard so much of him.
His friend was a good fellow who trusted him (here George embraced him warmly). Surely such a little thing would be allowed as for him, George, to step in and view Mr. Topcliffe"s baggage, while the faithful servant kept watch in the pa.s.sage! Perhaps another gla.s.s of ale--