^1 , 1 VH*-^ - i / Rogues' Haven Novels by ROY BRIDGES Author of "Rogues' Haven." THE BLACK HOUSE. " A fine treasure hunt story of the old smuggling days . . . Readers will appreciate the romantic figure of Captain Oandy, pirate, scholar, fine gentleman, and assassin." Times. " We are given a genuine wrecking scene, an exhibition of smugglers' caves, a clever escape from the forces of the law, and so forth, and we find a grand culmination on the Australian coast amid the weird relics of a treasure ship. It is all very vivid, and the characters of the ex-pirate and private schoolmaster is powerfully depicted." Glasgow Herald. THE VATS OF TYRE. " It is a great pleasure to come across a novel that can be as unreservedly recommended as Mr. Roy Bridges' ' The Vats of Tyre.' Mr. Bridges has richly succeeded in the most difficult task he could have set himself . . . The author simply sets himself to depict the Man of Sorrows against the background of the vice and luxury of the Herods, the craftiness of Hannas and Caiaphas, and the wealth of the merchants of Jerusalem. The characters live in the narrative, and singularly success- ful is the delineation of the people of those fateful days." Methodist Recorder. OTHER NOVELS BY ROY BRIDGES: MERCHANDISE THE IMMORTAL DAWN DEAD MEN'S GOLD THE BUBBLE MOON THE FUGITIVE HODDER & STOUGHTON, LIMITED, Publishers :: :: :: LONDON, E.G. 4. Rogues" Haven BY ROY BRIDGES Auibor of " The Bubble Moon," " The Vats of Tyre," ttc. HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED LONDON To my friend M. A. MINOGUE. Printed in Great Britain by C. TINLINO & Co., LTD., 53, Victoria Street, Liverpool, and at London and Prescot. Contents CHAPTER PAGE I. MR. BRADBURY 9 II. AT THE HALL 15 III. MRS. MARY HOWE .... 29 IV. A JOURNEY PLANNED ... 39 V. THE JOURNEY BEGUN ... 45 VI. THROUGH THE DARKNESS ... 53 VII. THE RIDERS 59 VIII. THE GREEN-CURTAINED ROOM . . 65 IX. MR. CHARLES CRAIKE ... 75 X. SCRUPLES OF ROGER GALT . . 83 XI. EVENTS AT THE STONE HOUSE . . 89 XII. CAPTAIN EZRA BLUNT ... 97 XIII. OUT OF THE STONE HOUSE . . 105 XIV. MODESTY OF MR. GALT . . . .111 XV. THE DOOMED HOUSE . . .119 XVI. OLD MR. EDWARD CRAIKE . . 129 XVII. CREED OF MR. CHARLES . . . 139 XVIII. COMPACT OF TOLERANCE . . . 147 XIX. COMPANY AT DINNER .... 155 XX. SOUL OF A MAN . . . .161 XXI. MY COUSIN OLIVER 169 XXII. THE WEB OF IVY .... 177 XXIII. DYING FIRES 185 8 Contents CHAPTER FAQB XXIV. THE WOOD 191 XXV. INSISTENCE OF CAPTAIN BLUNT . 201 XXVI. SIR GAVIN MASTERS .... 207 XXVII. SUSPICIONS OP MR. CHARLES CRAIKE . 213 XXVIII. SPILT WINE 219 XXIX. INTERVENTION OF MR. BRADBURY 225 XXX. NOT YET 233 XXXI. THE NIGHT WATCH .... 239 XXXII. WILL OF A MAN .... 251 XXXIII. CARRION CROWS .... 259 XXXIV. FLIGHT OF CROWS .... 269 XXXV. DEPARTURE OF MR. CHARLES CRAIKE 279 XXXVI. DAWN 291 XXXVII. MY UNCLE COMES TO His OWN 299 XXXVIII. LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT 305 Chapter /. Mr. Bradbury "DUT for the coach and pair carrying *-* Mr. Bradbury to Chelton, Tony Vining and I would not have been haled before the Squire, but would have got off scot-free as any time before. Tony and I had made the round of our snares. Tony had poked a young rabbit into his jacket-pocket ; I was carrying a hare in my bag, and we were sneaking homewards through the dusk, when Tim Kerrick, ash-plant in hand, and brace of keepers at heel, stepped out of the coppice. " What be you lads doin' here ? " Tim demanded, barring our way. ' You're after no good, I'll warrant. What's in your bag, John Howe ? " I did not stay to answer. I swung round and was away. Tony raced off with me ; old Tim and his keepers followed. We led them about the coppice, but they pressed us hard, Tim roaring, " Stop, ye young varmint ! Stop ! It'll be all the worse for ye. Stop, I say ! " Dreading Tim's ash-plant, we ran on with 9 10 Rogues' Haven all speed. The hare in the bag hung heavily on me ; when we were out in the furze, I let the bag slip from me, and ran more swiftly. I had need, for Tony was now well ahead, and Tim and the keepers were hot at my heels ; I could hear Tim's snorting as much for anger as the rigour of the chase. Furze tore my breeches and stockings ; as we took the bank above the road, a bramble almost led to my undoing ; it caught the tail of my jacket, and for the moment held me. Tim charged forward with a yell of triumph ; it was premature, for, kicking his toe against a root, he tumbled forward on his nose ; on the evidence of his curses he pitched headlong into the bramble. I tore myself away from the thorn, and dashed up the bank after Tony. Down then we plunged into the road ; the keepers, not staying to help Tim to his feet, pressed closely on us. And as we shot down into the road, destiny in a coach and pair to wit, Mr. Bradbury encountered us. For scarcely were we on the road, and racing on, than with a flash of yellow lamplight through the dusk, cracking of whip, and rattle of wheels, the coach was driven round a bend in the way, blocking our path, and sending us up against the bank to save ourselves. Tony cried out, Mr. Bradbury 11 for the horses almost trod him down ; instantly the pair took fright, and swerved to left. A wheel descending into a deep rut, the coach toppled over ; a horse fell, and the driver was lost in a swirl of dust, confusion of struggling, plunging horses and smashing vehicle. On this disaster we might have sped away ; no more than my curiosity, or maybe, desire to give a hand to the driver, held me there leaning against the bank and for the moment staring. But then I darted back with Tony, and caught at the bridle of the plunging horse ; by then the driver was the master of its fellow. Scarcely had we prevailed, than old Tim, cursing still, was upon us, roaring to his keepers, " Hold the young varmints ! Don't let 'em get away ! " Promptly the keepers had Tony and me as securely as we held the horse ; Tim was standing glowering at us, ash-plant quivering in his right hand, when out of the wrecked coach stepped Mr. Bradbury. Now in the days to be from my first meeting with Mr. Bradbury the demeanour and the characteristics of the gentleman were to be stamped so vividly upon my mind that perhaps I write of him here with a detail beyond my perception in the dusk, for the light of the carriage lamps had been put out. I picture 12 Rogues' Haven as a keen-faced gentleman, then of sixty years of age, as lean and stooping slightly ; his black cloak lined with white silk blowing out from his shoulders ; his long white hands striving now to secure it at his breast, and now to hold his hat upon his head. He would be wearing his coat of fine black cloth, black, flapped waistcoat, black silken breeches and black silken stockings, shining silver-buckled shoes, linen of superfine quality and whiteness, I recall the glint of white jewels on his fingers. His hair was snow-white, and bound with a black ribbon ; his spectacles were as two owl-like eyes. " Ha-ha ! " the gentleman exclaimed, observing Tony and me in the grip of the keepers. ' Whom have we here ? Gentlemen of the road ? " and chuckled in a dry, crackling way. " Poachers, lads from the village, Mr. Brad- bury, sir," Tim growled, touching his hat. " These young dogs has been poachin', and I be goin' to dust their jackets, as they've needed dustin' many a day. 'Twas them as frightened the hosses, an' nigh broke your honour's neck and the lad's there. You've took no hurt, sir, I hopes and trusts." " None ! None ! " Mr Bradbury answered, indifferently. " But my driver -- ? " " Well enough, sir, thank 'ee," the fellow Mr. Bradbury 13 said, busying himself with the traces of the fallen horse. " No thanks to these young rascals." " Ay ! Ay ! I'll be walking on then to the hall," said Mr. Bradbury, glancing at the ruined coach. " And I'll leave you free, Tim Kerrick, to dust the jackets and whatsoever else of the attire of these lads as may occur to you." He chuckled again, and pulled his flapping cloak about him. : ' The road's rough and broken with the rains, Mr. Bradbury," said Tim. " As like as not you'll be tumblin' into the ditch, or missin' your way. I'll send one of my lads with you. Hey, you Dick, have you your lantern there ? " ' Yes, I've it here, Mister Kerrick," the keeper answered. " Light it, lad, light it, and go along with Mr. Bradbury ! Joe and me can finish our business with these varmint." The keeper, relinquishing me to Tim's custody, lit his lantern, and stood forward to attend Mr. Bradbury, who, leaning on his cane, was scrutinising Tony and me. " Show the light on this lad here," said Mr. Bradbury, suddenly, pointing to me. As the light flashed on me, Mr. Bradbury peered at me through his spectacles ; his face expressed nothing of his thought ; shamefaced I stood 14 Rogues' Haven before him. " What's your name, boy ? " Mr. Bradbury demanded, sharply. " John Howe, sir," I answered. " Howe ! H'm-Kerrick ! " " Sir ? " said Tim, touching his hat. " Bring this lad to the Hall." " After I've basted him, sir ? " " Let the penalty be suspended. Later, maybe. Jacket or breeches then, as you will," said Mr. Bradbury, chuckling. " Who's the other lad ? " " Parson's son, sir, young Vining." " Bring them both before Mr. Chelton at the Hall," Mr. Bradbury ordered. " It's only just that they should suffer equally, as Mr. Chelton thinks fit ; one's as culpable as the other. Bring them both after me, Kerrick ! Now, my man, go ahead with the lantern." Wrapped in his cloak, hat pressed down over his brows, Mr. Bradbury went up the road, leaving Tim to curse, since justice and an overdue vengeance on our skins had been taken arbitrarily from his hands. Chapter II. At the Hall TT was dark long before Tony and I were -*- marched up the drive to the Hall. The great house stood out a grey mass against the starry sky ; the windows fronting us were golden with light ; and light flowed from the open door and down the steps. I heard loud laughter ; the Squire had company, as he might any night of the week. He favoured fox-hunting gentlemen of a like pattern to himself, seasoned to drink under the table any gentleman of fashion and Tory out of session who should quit the Town for the hospitality of Chelton. Hearing the voices and the laughter, and seeing the blaze of light from the dining-room, I had little fear of the temper of Mr. Chelton, before whom Tony and I were presently to be haled. None the less, for the thought that the Squire might think fit to parade us before his company to provide sport for them, I would have begged Tim Kerrick to deal with us summarily ; I would have endured the ash-plant about me for all my seventeen years of age but that the sudden interest of Mr. Bradbury 15 16 Rogues' Haven had excited my natural curiosity. I pictured Mr. Bradbury standing by us, chuckling to himself, and his piercing look, while the lantern light was playing across my face ; and I recalled his queer, sharp tone when he ordered me to be brought on to the Hall. What should the gentleman want with me ? Squire's family lawyer, Tim told me, gruffly, in answer to my eager question. How we should fare with Mr. Chelton was of less concern. I knew Mr. Chelton for a good-humoured gentleman. I did not fear that, though Tony and I had been found poaching on his preserves, the Squire would do worse than bid Tim Kerrick dress us down with his ash-plant. I did not dread committal, the Assizes and the terror of their Lordships, the Judges. Indeed, I believed that unseen I had dropped the hare out of sight in the furze ; and I took it that Tony had long since rid himself of the rabbit from his pocket. Only when we were before the house did I find the chance of a word with Tony. Tim, loosing his grip then, and staring up doubtfully at the door, as if not knowing whether or not to conduct us before the Squire and Mr. Bradbury immedi- ately, I poked my head forward and whispered to Tony, " Did you get rid of that rabbit ? " He whispered back, " No ! It's stuck in my At the Hall 17 pocket ; " but he could add nothing, for Tim gripped me instantly, and shook me, with the observation : "No talkin' ! If it's the rabbit you're thinkin' of, it's in his pocket yet, for I've felt it there. And I saw you drop the bag with, belike, another inside. So don't go thinkin' yourself clever, John Howe ! It's gaol, or transportation, or at the very least a basting you've never felt the like of, and'll never want to feel again. Squire's at dinner. You'll wait till Squire's dined and wined, you will." With this cheerful augury Tim Kerrick pro- pelled me before him, and the keeper following with Tony, we were marched about the house to the stables and into the harness-room. ' You'll be safe and snug here," Tim said, ere he turned the key upon us, " Squire'll deal with you, but not for a good two hours or more. So you can just think it all over in the dark." Slamming the door Tim locked us in, and stumped away. His assertion that Mr. Chelton would not deal with us, till he had dined, gave me instant concern for my mother's anxiety at my failure to return for supper. I pictured her dolefully with my meal set all ready for me ; sitting listening for my steps, peering up at the clock, and running out to the gate and waiting there, but seeing still no sign of me. And 18 Rogues' Haven dreading, I guessed well, lest I should have disappeared as from the face of the earth vanished with never a word to her, even as my father of whom I shall tell presently. I cursed Tim Kerrick, Squire Chelton, and Mr. Bradbury. " What's going to happen to us now, John ? " Tony muttered through the dark. " What '11 the Squire do with us, do you think ? " " Oh, he'll laugh, for he's sure to be half drunk when he sees us. Tell us we'll be hanged, if we're not shot for poachers first. And if Tim Kerrick makes the case black enough, Squire'll give him leave to baste us." " Yes, but Tim would have basted us properly, and let us go," said Tony. ' Why should that old black crow want to spoil Tim's sport and bid him bring us here, unless he's a notion of having us clapped in gaol ? But for him we'd have been through Tim's hands by now, and been limpin' home. Do you know Trim, John ? " " Oh, I only know he's Squire's lawyer. You heard Tim say so, if you didn't know before. I'd never heard of him or clapped eyes on him." " He seemed to know you." " Yes, he did. But I don't know how. We'll hear, when Squire's dined. Pray God, he doesn't spare the bottle ! Sit ye down, Tony, while you're able." At the Hall 19 And in the dark we sat down on the cold, flagged floor. I tell you the harness-room was CJO m/ like a vault for gloom and chill. The time we were held there seemed unending ; only Tim came near us, and then merely to be assured that we were safe, and to growl vengefully at us, as he flashed his lantern down on us. We wearied soon of conjecturing what should happen to us. We sat huddled together silently, and while Tony sought to pull the rabbit from his pocket, and at last succeeded to sling it from him with a curse, I set myself to pondering over Mr. Bradbury's mysterious interest in me, and to striving to recollect when, if ever, I had set eyes on the gentleman before. Never, so far as my memory served me, though my mother and I had lived ten years at Chelton. To my seventh year we had lived with my father in London. I remembered my father clearly, tall and darkly handsome, his black hair silver-threaded, though at the time of his mysterious disappearance he was not more than thirty-seven years of age. I remembered the moods of brooding melancholy darkening the natural liveliness of his disposition ; his strength, his tenderness with my mother and myself. I remembered, as the most sorrowful time of my childhood, the day of his disappearance, my 20 Rogues' Haven mother waiting the hours through from eve till dawn, hoping against hope for the sound of his return, the days succeeding of alternate hopes never fulfilled and terrors not allayed. My father had held a poor clerkship with the East India Company. He had left the House late in the day to carry a letter down to the docks for the master of an Indiaman ; but had never delivered the letter, and had vanished without trace or word. I remembered my mother's piti- ful distress, as day succeeded day without tidings, and the cloud of mystery was in no way lifted. A countrywoman and friendless, she could make little search for him ; it was assumed by the gentlemen of the East India House, that he had been pressed aboard one of the King's ships ; even so, none of his name was ever found among the crews, though the interest of the Company secured inquiry from the Commissioners of His Majesty's Navy. And my mother, distraught for many days, seemed stricken with terror of the Town and its associations, and took coach and fled away with me to Chelton ; all the years since we had had no word of my father and did not know whether he was alive or dead. We had lived quietly in a little cottage on the edge of Chelton the last dwelling, indeed, of the village ere the street At the Hall 21 passed into the great highway. My mother was possessed of small means a legacy, I believed, from a kinsman, though she would tell me nothing either of my father's family or of her own. She had not sufficient for our needs ; she added to our means by fine needlework for the Squire's lady and her folk ; how she found the five guineas a year for which the Rev. Mr. Vining allowed me to share the studies and the discipline of his son Tony I did not know. Yet, though I, lazy and graceless young dog as I was, urged her to let me seek employment in Chelton or in London itself, she would not hear of this. She declared, dear soul, that she would have me first a scholar ; even though I had turned seventeen, there was time and to spare for me to choose a calling. So with Tony I had become an equally indifferent scholar, in spite of Mr. Vining's cane, and as abandoned a rogue and poacher. So I sat now with the parson's son awaiting Squire Chelton's summary justice, and most like Tim Kerrick's execution of it. But Mr. Bradbury ? Mr. Bradbury sat in a cushioned chair by the fire ; Mr. Chelton supported his huge body more or less steadily against the chimney-piece, when at last Tim Kerrick paraded us before them in the library. It was a vast room, its shelves lined with books, none of which, I fear, Mr. Chelton 22 Rogues' Haven had ever opened from the day when his father's death put him into possession of the Hall and its acres. Old Mr. Gilbert Chelton's portrait looked coldly down from its gilded frame above the chimney-piece on his stout son, flushed from his drink his red coat, buckskins and high boots all mud-splashed from the cross-country ride of the day. Squire Chelton had not changed his rig to do honour to his guests, who, I took it from the roars of laughter yet sounding in the dining-room, were gentlemen of tastes similar to his own. His iron-grey hair was wind-blown ; his blood-shot eyes were as unsteady as his legs. He exuded good humour natural to him, but stimulated by as liberal an indulgence in the contents of his cellar as he expected from any gentleman of his company. While Mr. Gilbert's portrait looked its disapproval, the paintings of four other dead and gone Cheltons of a marked resemblance to the Squire seemed to regard him enviously from their old frames. Mr. Bradbury, if he had not been permitted to spare the bottle at dinner, made no show of it in his complexion. He sat by the fire, his legs crossed ; he had a silver snufi-box set with some glittering gem in his left hand ; his face was almost as white as his linen. Observing him, I had a sense that the mind at the back of his broad At the Hall 23 brow was as keen and as sparkling as the jewels on his fingers. With his leanness, his bloodless- ness, his coldly impassive face, his cunning eyes peering through his spectacles, he was as odd a contrast to his stout, drink-flushed patron in his riding-rig as were his air of precision and the trimness of his dress to the frank disorder of the rich furniture in the room. Squire Chelton's desk was littered with papers and parchments ; an ink- horn was overset among them ; goose quills had blown to the carpet ; hats, cloaks, riding-whips, and gloves were tossed pell-mell on chairs and table. On this dark oaken table a half-emptied flagon of crystal and silver was set, and a circle of glasses stained with the red dregs of wine. The library was lit by many tall candles in silver sticks, and by the leaping flames from the hearth before which Mr. Bradbury warmed himself, with the reflections flashing from his jewelled hands, his snuff-box and the silver buckles of his shoes. I noted the keenness of Mr. Bradbury's gaze immediately Tim thrust us forward ; all the while I remained in the room, I fancied that his eyes never left me. " Here's the young varmints, sir and Mr. Bradbury," Tim announced, touching his fore- lock. " Young Vining and young Howe, hey ? " 24 Rogues' Haven cried Mr. Chelton, essaying to frown majestically. " Caught poaching ! Ye're a credit to the parson who has the schooling of the pair of ye. What have ye to say for yourselves ? Come ! " We stared up at Mr. Chelton ; grinned foolishly, but said nothing. " Answer the Squire, varmint ! Answer the Squire ! " Tim muttered hoarsely at our backs. " Tell the story for them, Kerrick," said Mr. Chelton. " Maybe when they hear your account they'll be ready enough to answer for themselves and call you a liar " chuckling. Tim, stepping forward, briskly told his tale no, he told the tale of poachings from Chelton for the twelvemonth past, not limiting himself to the matter of the evening, the rabbit in Tony's jacket or the conjectured content of my bag. Not a pheasant, not a hare, not a rabbit had been poached from Chelton, but had gone on Tim's assertion in company with Tony and me, the worst pair of varmints, Tim dubbed us, as never was. Meanwhile, Squire Chelton from ruddy grew purple, from good-humoured choleric and from choleric nigh choking with passion. From time to time, as Tim proceeded, Mr. Chelton would burst out, "D'ye hear this, Bradbury ? " or " D'ye hear that ? " Mr. Bradbury nodded ; said nothing, and took snuff, while he peered at At the Hall 25 me through his spectacles. Tim wound up with a narration of the affair of the evening, glower- ing at him I rejoiced to see the damage wrought by the bramble to his nose and chin. " Now, you rogues, now ! " Mr. Chelton stormed. " What have ye to say to me ? D'ye know this is a matter for Assizes ? D'ye know that ye may be hanged for this ? D'ye know that at the least ye'll be shipped overseas ? What d'ye think of it, Bradbury ? " " I think, my dear sir," said Mr. Bradbury, smoothly, " that Kerrick overstates his case. Indeed, so much he overstates it, that did I instruct counsel for the defence of these lads, I promise that it would end with the committal of Kerrick here on a charge of perjury " Mr. Bradbury laughed shrilly to himself, and took more snuff. Tim stared at him with his eyes goggling, his jaw dropping. Mr. Chelton growling thun- derously, " Upon my soul, Bradbury ! Upon my soul ! " lurched to the table, and poured himself a glass of wine. Tony and I rejoicing fixed our eyes on Mr. Bradbury. " Mr. Chelton," Mr. Bradbury proceeded, " there's no more in this matter than the roguery of these lads to-night, a rabbit or so snared ; these lads are poachers, and, no doubt, have 26 Rogues' Haven taken a pretty picking off Chelton. But Kerrick here would lay to their account the poachings of the countryside, of gipsies, vagrants, village folk and odd. Without a tittle of proof, Mr. Chelton, without a tittle of proof that would hold good in a court of law." " Askin' your pardon, Mr. Bradbury, sir," Tim protested, " Parson's son had a rabbit in his pocket, when we caught 'em, and young John Howe was carryin' surnmat in his bag. He dropped it over in the furze." " Maybe," said Mr. Bradbury, testily. " We'll admit these facts, Tim Kerrick, we'll admit them ; but to seek, as you've done, my man, to prove against these lads the losses of a year past losses which you've failed to prevent, why, it's preposterous, Kerrick, it's rank perjury ! " " Have you turned advocate for rogues and vagabonds, Bradbury ? " asked Mr. Chelton, solemnly, though his eyes were twinkling once more, as much from the glass of wine, no doubt, as from Tim Kerrick's indignation and dis- comfiture. "Nay, Mr. Chelton," cried Mr. Bradbury, " only consider the facts ! The parson's son and, doubtless, excellently schooled by his father." " Vining's a worthy fellow," Mr. Chelton At the Hall 27 admitted, grinning. " I could tell you a rare story, Bradbury " but broke off, as recollect- ing Tony's presence, yet continuing to chuckle to himself. Mr. Vining, though devout, was a fox- hunting parson after the Squire's own heart. " Ay, and the lad Howe ? " Mr. Bradbury asked, observing me steadily. " A young varmint ! " Tim asserted, venge- fully. " His folk, Mr. Chelton ? " " Mother's a widow woman a decent body," Mr. Chelton answered readily. " Never a day behind with her rent. The lad was well enough till he turned poacher with young Vining there." " Village folk ? Chelton folk ? " " The mother and the lad have lived here these ten years. From London, I've heard say, Bradbury." Mr. Bradbury took snuff. " Now, Mr. Chelton," he said, laughing, " these lads have done no more than a taste of Tim's ash-plant should have corrected in them. And would have corrected, but that I ordered them to be brought to the Hall, I'll have a word with you, sir, presently, on my reason. But for two hours or so they've been in Tim's hands ; they've been locked up in the dark, maybe, and they've been haled before you. The lesson should serve 'em, sir." 28 Rogues' Haven " Ain't I to baste 'em properly, Squire ? " asked Tim, aghast. " They're varmint varmint, sir ! " " No doubt," said Mr. Bradbury. " But they'll need no further lesson. Admonish them as you will, Mr. Chelton, and send them packing home to make their peace with their folk as they may. It'll meet the purpose, I promise you. You'll not be troubled with them again," and standing up, he laughed shrilly and snapped his snuff-box lid. I realised that Mr. Bradbury's purpose to satisfy some passing curiosity had been fulfilled. He stood peering at me still, his eyes darting like the jewels upon his fingers. " You're long away from your guests, Mr. Chelton," he said, with a wave of his hand toward the door. The Squire hesitated a moment ; then, with sudden roaring laughter, cried to us, " Oh, get away home, you dogs ! Don't let me have you here again. Out of this ! No, you don't, Kerrick ! You'll remain here," as Tim started for the door, purposing, I assumed, still to exercise justice upon us. We did not stay to thank the Squire or Mr. Bradbury, but slinking out of the room, scurried through the hall, and presently were racing down the drive apace, lest Kerrick with his ash-plant pursue and overtake us. Chapter III. Mrs. Mary Howe A/f Y mother was looking out from the gate into ***- the moonlit street when I reached home. I saw her white cap poking from among the ever- greens, as I rounded the corner. She was white and shaking when she hurried to meet me. " My dear, where have you been ? " she cried. :< I've been waiting for you these three hours or more. I've been so much afraid." "I'm sorry, mother," I answered, as I kissed her. " I've been with Tony. Nothing's amiss. I went with him up to the Hall, and saw the Squire, that's all." " You've been in trouble, then ? Oh, you've been caught poaching with young Vining ! That's what you mean, isn't it ? " she said, indignantly. " Yes, that's it, mother, but Squire only laughed." She said no more, but stepped before me through the garden now all silvered with the moon and scented with gillie-flowers and stocks and sweet moss-roses into the cottage. She 29 30 Rogues' Haven kept our dwelling as neat and trim within as the garden about it. The room we entered was freshly lime-washed ; the windows were hung with snow-white curtains and gay with flowers in boxes. Settle and chairs and table were oaken, and dark with age ; an old Dutch clock, brass candlesticks and canisters stood on the chimney- piece ; blue and white ware and lustre were ranged upon the shelves, with pewter polished silver- white even as the brasses shone like gold. My supper was set on bleached white linen a cold pasty, bread and cheese, and cider in a covered jug ; though I was well-nigh starving for the lateness of the hour, and though my mother hastened to cut a wedge from the pasty for me, I could not eat or drink till I had told the tale of our adventure and of Mr. Bradbury's interest. At the first mention of Mr. Bradbury's name, I believed that she started, and that the colour crept into her cheeks. My mother was pale and tall and fine, all white and black, ivory-white of skin, dark of eye and hair wearing black stuff gowns, snow-white mob-caps and aprons, save of a Sunday, when she put on her silk dress, in which she made a figure fitter to the Hall than to the village, so it seemed to me. Observing her stirred from her placidity, I asked, " Who's Mr. Bradbury, mother ? Mrs. Mwy Howe 31 Squire's lawyer, I know, but what can be his interest in us ? Why didn't he let Tim baste Tony and me ? And why did he question the Squire about you and me, and how long we'd lived in the village ? And then the way he watched me ! " She said quietly, though there was a tremor in her voice, " Sit down and eat your supper, John. It's late and I'm weary. Mr. Bradbury is the servant of many great families. Once years ago he knew me, before I was wed to Eichard Howe. And and he knew your father. You're very like your father." Watching her, I believed that I saw dread in her eyes, and that her lips w r ere trembling. Meeting my look, she added steadily, ' That is all, John. Promise me that you'll not go poaching with Tony again ! " " Oh, it's easy enough to promise, mother," I said, sitting down to my supper, " but it's not so easy to keep my word." " Why ? It should be easy ! " ' Yes, and it would be, if I had anything else to occupy me. You see, I'm weary of wasting my days in Chelton. You'd have me a scholar ; and that I'll never be. Mr. Vining would tell you so, for I'm sure he tells me as much every day of the week. And what should Tony and I be doing except getting into mischief ? " 32 Rogues' Haven :< I've asked you, John," she said, simply, " to wait just a little longer. I couldn't have you go to London. Eemembering your father ! You're safe here. I wish you could be happy." " But here I am turned seventeen. I've not the head for book-learning. And what's the purpose of it all ? Do you want me to be a schoolmaster or a clergyman ? " " No," she said quickly, " to be a gentleman. This Mr. Bradbury did he say anything else to you ? Anything about your father ? " " Only what I've told you." She nodded, but said no more ; sitting silent and abstracted until I had eaten my supper ; rising then to clear away the meal, whilst I, taking down my Latin grammar, set myself to conning my lesson for the morrow, apprehending that Mr. Vining's cane would make amends for the punishment of which Mr. Bradbury's inter- vention had disappointed Tim Kerrick. But if my eyes were fixed on the page, my thoughts were straying back to Mr. Bradbury, from his appearance out of his wrecked coach to the moment when I had left him standing chuckling beside Squire Chelton. My mother, coming back quietly, sat down with her sewing ; so we remained till the hands of the clock pointed to the hour of eleven. And even as I shut my Latin Mrs. Mary H