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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 FROM 
 
 E.L. Nichols 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013342690 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR4622.R61896 
 
 Rodney Stone, 
 
 3 1924 013 342 690 
 
RODNEY STONE 
 
BY A. CONAN DOYLE. 
 
 The Exploits of Brigadier 
 Gerard. 
 
 Illustrated, izmo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "The Brigadier is brave, resolute, amorous, loyal, 
 chivalrous ; never was a foe more ardent in battle, more 
 clement in victory, or more ready at need. . . . Gallant- 
 ry, humor, martial gayety, moving incident, make up a 
 really delightful book." — London Times. 
 
 "May be set down without reservation as the most 
 thoroughly enjoyable book that Dr. Doyle has ever pub- 
 lished." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 The Stark Mimro Letters. 
 
 Illustrated. lamo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "Dr. Doyle's 'The Stark Munro Letters' more than 
 sustains his enviable reputation. They are positively mag- 
 netic, and are written with that combined force and grace 
 for which the author's style is known." — Boston Beacon. 
 
 " Its reading will be an epoch-making event in many 
 a life." — Pkiladelphia Evening Telegrafh. 
 
 Round the Red Lamp. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Too much can not be said of these strong produc- 
 tions, that, to read, keep one's heart leaping to the throat 
 and the mind in a tumult of anticipation to the end. . . . 
 No series of short stories in modern literature can ap- 
 proach 'Casxa." ^Hartford Times. 
 
 " If Dr. A. Conan Doyle has not already placed him- 
 self in the front rank of linng writers by ' The Refugees ' 
 and other of his larger stories, he would surely do so by 
 these fifteen short tales." — Neva York Mail and Express, 
 
 New York: D. Appleton & Co., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
Down we thundered together. 
 
 (See page 149.) 
 
Boo§D"OoOo''*"'?° ooooo o ooQeooolBfei&oooOaOociOo^jttocDOo o i 
 
 Si> ci.a o oo o oeCi oqo 
 
 RODNEY STONE 
 
 BY 
 
 A. CONAN DOYLE 
 
 AUTHOR OF ROUND THE RED LAMP, THE STARK MUNRO LETTERS, 
 THE EXPLOITS OF BRIGADIER GERARD, ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1896 
 
 ^oooo 00 ao 
 
 Oooo OoOoa QOoo QQaa«oOO aaoeaoOooaa OOOoo •=> «'aOooO°o OO 000 
 
 fa 
 
/\C>yYsi] 
 
 Copyright, 1896, 
 By a. CONAN DOYLE. 
 
 A /I rights reserved. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Among the books to which I am indebted 
 for my material in my endeavour to draw various 
 phases of life and character in England at the 
 beginning of the century I would particularly 
 mention Ashton's Dawn of the Nineteenth Cen- 
 tury, Fitzgerald's Life and Times of George IV, 
 Gronow's Reminiscences, Jesse's Life of Brum- 
 mel, Boxiana, Pugilistica, Harper's Brighton 
 Road, Robinson's Last Earls of Barrymore and 
 Old Q, Rice's History of the Turf, Tristram's 
 Coaching Days, James's Naval History, Clark 
 Russell's Collingwood, and Nelson. 
 
 I am also much indebted to my friends Mr. J. 
 C. Parkinson and Robert Barr for information 
 upon the subject of the ring. 
 
 A. CoNAN Doyle. 
 
 Haslemere, September i, i8g6. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. — Friar's oak i 
 
 II. — The walker of Cliffe Royal .... 20 
 
 III. — The play actress of Anstey Cross ... 36 
 
 IV. — The Peace of Amiens . . . ". . .55 
 
 V. — Buck Tregellis ... ... 72 
 
 VI. — The first Journey 96 
 
 VII.— The hope of England . .... no 
 
 VIII. — The Brighton road 136 
 
 IX. — Watier's 153 
 
 X. — The men of the ring 172 
 
 XI. — The fight in the coach house .... 203 
 XII. — The coffee room of Fladong's . . . .228 
 
 XIII. — Lord Nelson 241 
 
 XIV. — On the road 256 
 
 XV. — Foul play 278 
 
 XVI. — Crawley Downs 287 
 
 XVII. — The ringside 306 
 
 XVIII. — The smith's last battle 325 
 
 XIX. — Cliffe Royal 349 
 
 XX. — Lord Avon 363 
 
 XXI. — The valet's story. ...... 379 
 
 XXII.— The end 396 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FACING 
 PAGE 
 
 Down we thundered together .... Fronthfiece 
 
 I saw him look hard at his antagonist i8 
 
 My word, how he rated us ! 38 
 
 " I find him very passable, Mary " 81 
 
 "Lost like thedevil!" he snapped . . . . ■. 169 
 
 Jim had appeared in the ring 213 
 
 " She must and she shall be ready ! " cried Nelson . . 247 
 
 A lane was formed to admit us 278 
 
 Sir Lothian's hollow cheeks grew white with passion . . 300 
 
 " I hope I have not hurt you much " 347 
 
 A woman stood beside him 356 
 
 Lord Avon staggered forward 367 
 
RODNEY STONE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 friar's oak. 
 
 On this, the ist of January, of the year 185 1, 
 the nineteenth century has reached its midway 
 term, and many of us who shared its youth have 
 already warnings which tell us that it has out- 
 worn us. We put our grizzled heads together, 
 we older ones, and we talk of the great days that 
 we have known, but we find that when it is with 
 our children that we talk it is a hard matter to 
 make them understand. We and our fathers be- 
 fore us lived much the same life, but they with 
 their railway trains and their steamboats belong 
 to a different age. It is true that we can put his- 
 tory books into their hands, and they can read 
 from them of our weary struggle of two and 
 twenty years with that great and evil man. They 
 can learn how freedom fled from the whole broad 
 continent, and how Nelson's blood was shed, and 
 Pitt's noble heart was broken in striving that she 
 
2 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 should not pass us forever to take refuge with 
 our brothers across the Atlantic. All this they 
 can read, with the date of this treaty or that bat- 
 tle, but I do not know where they are to read of 
 ourselves, of the folk we were, and the lives we 
 led, and how the world seemed to our eyes when 
 they were young as theirs are now. 
 
 If I take up my pen to tell you about this you 
 must not look for any story at my hands, for I 
 was only in my earliest manhood when these 
 things befell, and although I saw something of 
 the stories of other lives I could scarce claim one 
 of my own. It is the love of a woman that makes 
 the story of a man, and many a year was to pass 
 before I first looked into the eyes of the mother 
 of my children. To us it seems but an affair of 
 yesterday, and yet those children can now reach 
 the plums in the garden while we are seeking 
 for a ladder, and where we once walked with 
 their little hands in ours we are glad now to lean 
 upon their arms. But I shall speak of a time 
 when the love of a mother was the only love I 
 know, and if you seek for something more, then 
 it is not for you that I write. But if you would 
 come out with me into that forgotten world ; if 
 you would know Boy Jim and Champion Harri- 
 son ; if you would meet my father, one of Nelson's 
 own men ; if you would catch a glimpse of that 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. 3 
 
 great seaman himself, and of George, afterward 
 the unworthy King of England ; if, above all, you 
 would see my famous uncle. Sir Charles Tregellis, 
 the king of the Bucks, and the great fighting men 
 whose names are still household words among 
 you, then give me your hand and let us start. 
 
 But I must warn you also that if you think 
 that you will find much that is of interest in your 
 guide you are destined to disappointment. When 
 I look over my book shelves I can see that it is 
 only the wise and witty and valiant who have 
 ventured to write down their experiences. For 
 my own part, if I were only assured that I was as 
 clever and brave as the average man about me 
 I should be well satisfied. Men of their hands 
 have thought well of my brains, and men of 
 brains of my hands, and that is the best that I 
 can say for myself. Save in the one matter of 
 having an inborn readiness for music, so that the 
 mastery of any instrument comes very easily and 
 naturally to me, I can not recall any single ad- 
 vantage which I can boast over my fellows. In 
 all things I have been a halfway man, for I am of 
 middle height, my eyes are neither blue nor gray, 
 and my hair, before Nature dusted it with her 
 powder, was between flaxen and brown. I may 
 perhaps claim this : that through life I have never 
 felt a touch of jealousy, as I have admired a bet- 
 
4 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ter man than myself, and that I have always seen 
 all things as they are, myself included, which 
 should count in my favour now that I sit down 
 in my mature age to write my memories. With 
 your permission, then, we will push my own per- 
 sonality as far as possible out of the picture. If 
 you can conceive me as a thin and colourless cord 
 upon which my would-be pearls are strung you 
 will be accepting me upon the terms which I 
 should wish. 
 
 Our family, the Stones, have for manj- genera- 
 tions belonged to the navy, and it has been a cus- 
 tom among us for the eldest son to take the name 
 of his father's favourite commander. Thus we 
 can trace our lineage back to old Vernon Stone, 
 who commanded a high-sterned, peak-nosed, fifty- 
 gun ship against the Dutch. Through Hawke 
 Stone and Benbow Stone we came down to my 
 father, Anson Stone, who in his turn christened 
 me Rodney at the parish church of St. Thomas 
 at Portsmouth in the year of grace 1786. 
 
 Out of my window as I write I can see my 
 own great lad in the garden, and if I were to call 
 out " Nelson," you would see that I have been 
 true to the traditions of our family. 
 
 My dear mother, the best that ever a man 
 had, was the second daughter of the Rev. John 
 Tregellis, vicar of Milton, which is a small parish 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. i; 
 
 upon the borders of the marshes of Langstone. 
 She came of a poor family, but one of some posi- 
 tion, for her elder brother was the famous Sir 
 Charles Tregellis, who, having inherited the 
 money of a wealthy East Indian merchant, be- 
 came in time the talk of the town and the very 
 particular friend of the Prince of Wales. Of him 
 I shall have more to say hereafter, but you will 
 note now that he was my own uncle and brother 
 to my mother. 
 
 I can remember her all through her beautiful 
 life, for she was but a girl when she married and 
 little more when I can first recall her busy fin- 
 gers and her gentle voice. I see her as a lovely 
 woman with kind dove's eyes, somewhat short of 
 stature, it is true, but carrying herself very brave- 
 ly. In my memories of those days she is clad 
 always in some purple shimmering stuff, with a 
 white kerchief round her long white neck, and I 
 see her fingers turning and darting as she works 
 at her knitting. I see her again in her middle 
 years, sweet and loving, planning, contriving, 
 achieving, with the few shillings a day of a lieu- 
 tenant's pay, on which to support the cottage at 
 Friar's Oak and to keep a fair face to the world. 
 And now, if I do but step into the parlour I can 
 see her once more with over eighty years of 
 saintly life behind her, silver-haired, placid-faced, 
 
6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 with her dainty ribboned cap, her gold-rimmed 
 glasses, and her woolly shawl with the blue bor- 
 der. I loved her young and I love her old, and 
 when she goes she will take something with her 
 which nothing in the world can ever make good 
 to me again. You may have many friends, you 
 who read this, and you may chance to marry 
 more than once, but your mother is your first 
 and your last. Cherish her, then, while you may, 
 for the day will come when every hasty deed or 
 heedless word will come back with its sting to 
 hive in your own heart. 
 
 Such, then, was my mother, and as to my 
 father, I can describe him best when I come to 
 the time when he returned to us from the Mediter- 
 ranean. During all my childhood he was only a 
 name to me, and a face in a miniature which hung 
 round my mother's neck. At first they told me 
 he was fighting the French, and then after some 
 years one heard less about the French and more 
 about General Buonaparte. I remember the awe 
 with which one day in Thomas Street, Ports- 
 mouth, I saw a print of the great Corsican in a 
 bookseller's window. This, then, was the arch 
 enemy with whom my father spent his life in ter- 
 rible and ceaseless contest. To my childish 
 imagination it was a personal affair, and I forever 
 saw my father and this clean-shaven, thin-lipped 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. 7 
 
 man swaying and reeling in a deadly year-long 
 grapple. It was not until I went to the grammar 
 school that I understood how many other little 
 boys there were whose fathers were in the same 
 case. 
 
 Only once in those long years did my father 
 return home, wliich will show you what it meant 
 to be the wife of a sailor in those days. It was 
 just after we had moved from Portsmouth to 
 Friar's Oak, whither he came for a week before 
 he set sail with Admiral Jarvis to help him to 
 turn his name into Lord St. Vincent. I remem- 
 ber that he frightened as well as fascinated me 
 with his talk of battles, and I can recall as if it 
 were yesterday the horror with which I gazied 
 upon a spot of blood upon his shirt ruffle, which 
 had come, as I have no doubt, from a mischance in 
 shaving. At the time I never questioned that it 
 had spurted from some stricken Frenchman or 
 Spaniard, and I shrank from him in terror when 
 he laid his horny hand upon my head. My 
 mother wept bitterly when he was gone, but for 
 my own part I was not sorry to see his blue back 
 and white shorts going down the garden walk, 
 for I felt with the heedless selfishness of a child 
 that we were closer together, she and I, when we 
 were alone. 
 
 It was in my eleventh year that we moved 
 
8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 from Portsmouth to Friar's Oak, a little Sussex 
 village to the north of Brighton, which was rec- 
 ommended to us by my uncle, Sir Charles Tre- 
 gellis, one of whose grand friends, Lord Avon, 
 had had his seat near there. The reason of our 
 moving was that living was cheaper in the coun- 
 try and that it was easier for my mother to keep 
 up the appearance of a gentlewoman when away 
 from the circle of those to whom she could not 
 refuse hospitality. They were trying times, 
 those, to all save the farmers, who made such 
 profits that they could, as I have heard, afford to 
 let half of their land lie fallow, while living like 
 gentlemen upon the rest. Wheat was at i lo shil- 
 lings a quarter, and the quartern loaf at one and 
 ninepence. Even in the quiet of the cottage at 
 Friar's Oak we could scarce have lived were it 
 not that in the blockading squadron in which my 
 father was stationed there was the occasional 
 chance of a little prize money. The line-of-battle 
 ships themselves, tacking on and off outside 
 Brest, could earn nothing save honour, but the 
 frigates in attendance made prizes of many coast- 
 ers, and these, as is the rule of the service, were 
 counted as belonging to the fleet, and their prod- 
 uce divided into head money. 
 
 In this manner my father was able to send 
 home enough to keep the cottage and to send 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. g 
 
 me to the day school of Mr. Joshua Allen, where 
 for four years I learned all that he had to teach. 
 It was at Allen's school that I first knew Jim 
 Harrison — Boy Jim, as he has always been called, 
 — the nephew of Champion Harrison of the village 
 smithy. I can see him as he was at that time, 
 with great floundering half-formed limbs like a 
 Newfoundland puppy, and a face that set every 
 woman's head round as he passed her. It was in 
 those days that we began our life-long friendship, 
 a friendship which still in our waning years binds 
 us closely as two brothers. I taught him his ex- 
 ercises, for he never loved the sight of a book, 
 and he in turn made me box and wrestle, tickle 
 trout on the Adur, and snare rabbits on Ditch- 
 ling Down, for his hands were as active as his 
 brain was slow. He was two years my elder, 
 however, so that long before I had finished my 
 schooling he had gone to help his uncle at the 
 smithy. 
 
 Friar's Oak is in a dip of the Downs, and the 
 forty-third milestone between London and 
 Brighton lies on the skirt of the village. It is 
 but a small place, with an ivied church, a fine 
 vicarage, and a row of red brick cottages each 
 in its own little garden. At one end was the 
 forge of Champion Harrison, with his house be- 
 hind it, and at the other was Mr. Allen's school. 
 
lO RODNEY STONE. 
 
 The yellow cottage, standing back a little from 
 the road, with its upper story bulging forward 
 and a criss-cross of black woodwork let into the 
 plaster, is the one in which we lived. I do not 
 know if it is still standing, but I should think it 
 likely, for it was not a place much given to 
 change. 
 
 Just opposite to us, at the other side of the 
 broad white road, was the Friar's Oak inn, which 
 was kept in my day by John Cummings, a man 
 of excellent repute at home, but liable to strange 
 outbreaks when he travelled, as will afterward 
 become apparent. Though there was a stream 
 of trafific upon the road, the coaches from 
 Brighton were too fresh to stop, and those from 
 London too eager to reach their journey's end, 
 so that if it had not been for an occasional broken 
 trace or loosened wheel the landlord would have 
 had only the thirsty throats of the village to trust 
 to. Those were the days when the Prince of 
 Wales had just built his singular palace by the 
 sea, and so from May to September, which was 
 the Brighton season, there was never a day that 
 from one hundred to two hundred curricles, 
 chaises, and phaetons did not rattle past our 
 doors. Many a summer evening have Boy Jim 
 and I lain upon the grass, watching all these 
 grand folk, and cheering the London coaches as 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. II 
 
 they came roaring through the dust clouds, lead 
 ers and wheelers stretched to their work, the 
 bugles screaming, and the coachmen with their 
 low-crowned, curly brimmed hats, and their faces 
 as scarlet as their coats. The passengers used to 
 laugh when Boy Jim shouted at them, but if they 
 could have read his big, half-set limbs and his 
 loose shoulders aright, they would have looked a 
 little harder at him perhaps, and given him back 
 his cheer. 
 
 Boy Jim had never known a father or a 
 mother, and his whole life had been spent with 
 his uncle, Champion Harrison. Harrison was 
 the Friar's Oak blacksmith, and he had his nick- 
 name because he fought Tom Johnson when he 
 held the English belt, and would most certainly 
 have beaten him had the Bedfordshire magis- 
 trates not appeared to break up the fight. For 
 years there was no such glutton to take punish- 
 ment, and no more finishing hitter than Harrison, 
 though he was always, as I understand, a slow 
 one upon his feet. At last, in a fight with Black 
 Baruk, the Jew, he finished the battle with such 
 a lashing hit that he not only knocked his oppo- 
 nent over the inner ropes, but he left him betwixt 
 life and death for a long three weeks. During 
 all this time Harrison lived as one demented, ex- 
 pecting every hour to feel the hand of a Bow 
 
12 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Street runner upon his collar, and to be tried for 
 his life. This experience, with the prayers of his 
 wife, made him forswear the ring forever, and 
 carry his great muscles into the one trade in 
 which they seemed to give him an advantage. 
 There was a good business to be done at Friar's 
 Oak, from the passing traffic and the Sussex 
 farmers, so that he soon became the richest of the 
 villagers, and he came to church on a Sunday 
 with his wife and his nephew, looking as re- 
 spectable a family man as one would wish to 
 see. 
 
 He was not a tall man, not more than five foot 
 seven, and it was often said that if he had had an 
 extra inch of reach he would have been a match 
 for Jackson or Belcher at their best. His chest 
 was like a barrel, and his forearms were the most 
 powerful that I have ever seen, with deep 
 grooves between the smooth, swelling muscles, 
 like a piece of water-worn rock. In spite of his 
 strength, however, he was of a slow, orderly, and 
 kindly disposition, so that there was no man 
 more beloved over the whole countryside. His 
 heavy, placid, clean-shaven face could set very 
 sternly, as I have seen upon occasion, but for me 
 and every child in the village there was ever a 
 smile upon his lips and a greeting in his eyes. 
 There was not a beggar upon the countryside 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. 1 3 
 
 who did not know that his heart was as soft as 
 his muscles were hard. 
 
 There was nothing that he liked to talk of 
 more than his old battles, but he would stop if he 
 saw his little wife coming, for the one great 
 shadow in her life was the ever-present fear that 
 some day he would throw down sledge and rasp 
 and be off to the ring once more. And you must 
 be reminded here once for all that that former 
 calling of his was by no means at that time in the 
 debased condition to which it afterward fell. 
 Public opinion has gradually become opposed to 
 it, for the reason that it came largely into the 
 hands of rogues, and because it fostered ring-side 
 ruffianism. Even the honest and brave pugilist 
 was found to draw villainy round him, just as the 
 clean and noble racehorse does. For this reason 
 the ring is dying in England, and we may hope 
 that when Caunt and Bendigo have passed away 
 they may have none to succeed them. But it 
 was different in the days of which I speak. Pub- 
 lic opinion was then largely in its favour, and 
 there were good reasons why it should be so. 
 
 It was a time of war when England, with an 
 army and navy composed only of those who vol- 
 unteered to fight because they had fighting blood 
 in them, had to encounter, as they would now 
 have to encounter, a power which could, by des- 
 
14 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 potic law, turn every citizen into a soldier. If 
 the people had not been full of this lust for com- 
 bat it is certain that England must have been 
 overborne. And it was thought, and is on the 
 face of it reasonable, that a struggle between two 
 indomitable men, with thirty thousand to view it 
 and three million to discuss it, did help to set a 
 standard of hardihood and endurance. Brutal it 
 was, no doubt, and its brutality is the end of it, 
 but it is not so brutal as war, which will survive 
 it. Whether it is logical now to teach the people 
 to be peaceful in an age when their very exist- 
 ence may come to depend upon their being war- 
 like is a question for wiser heads than mine. But 
 that was what we thought of it in the days of 
 your grandfathers, and that is why you might 
 find statesmen and philanthropists like Windham, 
 Fox, and Althorp at the side of the ring. 
 
 The mere fact that solid men should patronize 
 it was enough in itself to prevent the villainy 
 which afterward crept in. For over twenty 
 years, in the days of Jackson, Brain, Cribb, the 
 Belchers, Pearce, Gully, and the rest, the leaders 
 of the ring were men whose honesty was above 
 suspicion, and those were just the twenty years 
 when the ring may, as I have said, have served a 
 national purpose. You have heard how Pearce 
 saved the Bristol girl from the burning house. 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. 1 5 
 
 how Jackson won the respect and friendship of 
 the best men of his age, and how Gully rose to a 
 seat in the first reformed Parliament. These 
 were the men who set the standard, and their 
 trade carried with it this obvious recommenda- 
 tion that it is one in which no drunken or foul- 
 living man could long succeed. There were 
 exceptions among them, no doubt — bullies like 
 Hickman and brutes like Berks ; in the main, 1 
 say again, that they were honest men, brave and 
 enduring to an incredible degree, and a credit to 
 the country which produced them. It was, as 
 you will see, my fate to see something of them, 
 and I speak of what I know. 
 
 In our own village I can assure you that we 
 were very proud of the presence of such a man 
 as Champion Harrison, and if folk stayed at the 
 inn they would walk down as far as the smithy, 
 just to have the sight of him. And he was worth 
 seeing, too, especially on a winter's night, when 
 the red glare of the forge would beat upon his 
 great muscles and upon the proud hawk face of 
 Boy Jim, as they heaved and swayed over some 
 glowing plough coulter, framing themselves in 
 sparks with every blow. He would strike once 
 with his thirty-pound swing sledge, and Jim 
 twice with his hand hammer, and the " clunk, 
 clink, clink; clunk, clink, clink!" would bring me 
 
1 6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 flying down the village street, on the chance that, 
 since they were both at the anvil, there might be 
 a place for me at the bellows. 
 
 Only once during those village years can I 
 remember Champion Harrison showing me for 
 an instant the sort of man that he had been. It 
 chanced one summer morning, when Boy Jim 
 and I were standing by the smithy door that 
 there came a private coach from Brighton, with 
 its four fresh horses and its brasswork shining, 
 flying along with such a merry rattle and jing- 
 ling that the champion came running out with a 
 half-fullered shoe in his tongs, to have a look at 
 it. A gentleman in a white coachman's cape — a 
 Corinthian, as we called him in those days — was 
 driving, and half a dozen of his fellows, laughing 
 and shouting, were on the top behind him. It 
 may have been that the bulk of the smith caught 
 his eye, and that he acted in pure wantonness, or 
 it may possibly have been an accident, but as he 
 swung past, the twenty-foot thong of the driver's 
 whip hissed round, and we heard the sharp snap 
 of it across Harrison's leather apron. 
 
 " Hullo, master ! " shouted the smith, looking 
 after him. " You're not to be trusted on the box 
 until you can handle your whip better'n that." 
 
 "What's that?" cried the driver, pulling up 
 his team. 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. 1 7 
 
 " I bid you have a care, master, or there will 
 be some one-eyed folk along the road you drive." 
 
 " Oh, you say that, do you ? " said the driver, 
 putting his whip into its socket and pulling off 
 his driving gloves. " 1*11 have a little talk with 
 you, my fine fellow." 
 
 The sporting gentlemen of those days were 
 very fine boxers for the most part, for it was the 
 mode to take a course of Mendoza, just as a few 
 years afterward there was no man about town 
 who had not had the mufflers on with Jackson. 
 Knowing their own prowess, they never refused 
 the chance of a wayside adventure, and it was 
 seldom indeed that the bargee or the navigator 
 had much to boast of after a young blood had 
 taken off his coat to him. This one swung him- 
 self off the box seat with the alacrity of a man 
 who has no doubts about the upshot of the quar- 
 rel, and after hanging his caped coat upon the 
 swinglebar he daintily turned up the ruffled cuffs 
 of his white cambric shirt. 
 
 " I'll pay you for your advice, my man," 
 said he. 
 
 I am sure that the men upon the coach knew 
 who the burly smith was, and looked upon it as 
 a prime joke to see their companion walk into 
 such a trap. They roared with delight and bel- 
 lowed out scraps of advice to him. 
 
l8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Knock some of the soot off him, Lord Fred- 
 erick ! " they shouted. " Give the Johnny Raw 
 his breakfast. Chuck him in among his own cin- 
 ders. Sharp's the word, or you'll see the back 
 of him." 
 
 Encouraged by these cries, the young aristo- 
 crat advanced upon his man. The smith never 
 moved, but his mouth set grim and hard, while 
 his tufted brows came down over his keen gray 
 eyes. The tongs had fallen, and his hands were 
 hanging free. 
 
 " Have a care, master," said he. " You'll get 
 pepper, if you don't." 
 
 Something in the assured voice, and some- 
 thing also in the quiet pose, warned the young 
 lord of his danger. I saw him look hard at his 
 antagonist, and as he did so his hands and his jaw 
 dropped together. 
 
 " My God ! " he cried. " It's Jack Harrison ! " 
 
 " My name, master." 
 
 " And I thought you were some Sussex chaw- 
 bacon ! Why, man, I haven't seen you since the 
 day you nearly killed Black Baruk, and cost me 
 a cool hundred by doing it." 
 
 How they roared on the coach ! 
 
 " Smoked ! Smoked, by God ! " they yelled. 
 " It's Jack Harrison, the bruiser. Lord Fred- 
 erick was going to take on the ex-champion. 
 
I saw him look hard at his antagonist. 
 
FRIAR'S OAK. 1 9 
 
 Give him one on the apron, Fred, and see what 
 happens." 
 
 But the driver had already climbed back into 
 his perch, laughing as loudly as any of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 "We'll let you off this time, Harrison," said 
 he. " Are those your sons down there ? " 
 
 " This is my nephew, master." 
 
 " Here's a guinea for him. He shall never 
 say I robbed hira of his uncle." And so, having 
 turned the laugh in his favour by his merry way 
 of taking it, he cracked bis whip, and away they 
 flew to make London under the five hours, while 
 Jack Harrison, with his half-fullered shoe in his 
 hand, went whistling back to his forge. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 
 
 So much for Champion Harrison ! Now I 
 wish to say something more about Boy Jim, not 
 only because he was the comrade of my youth, 
 but because you will find as you go on that this 
 book is his story rather than mine, and that there 
 came a time when his name and his fame were in 
 the mouths of all England. You will bear with 
 me therefore while I tell you of his character, as 
 it was in those days, and especially of one very 
 singular adventure which neither of us is likely 
 to forget. 
 
 It was strange to see Jim with his uncle and 
 his aunt, for he seemed to be of another race 
 and breed from them. Often I have watched 
 them come up the aisle upon a Sunday, first the 
 square, thickset man, and then the little, worn, 
 anxious-eyed woman, and last this glorious lad 
 with his clear-cut face, his black curls and his 
 
 step so springy and light that it seemed as if 
 
 20 ■ i 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 2 1 
 
 he were bound to earth by some lesser tie than 
 the heavy-footed villagers round him. He had 
 not yet attained his full six foot of stature, but no 
 judge of a man (and every woman at least is one) 
 could look at his perfect shoulders, his narrow 
 loins, and his proud head that sat upon his neck 
 like a flower upon its stalk, without feeling that 
 sober joy which all that is beautiful in Nature 
 gives to us — a vague self-content, as though in 
 some way we also had a hand in the making 
 of it. 
 
 But we are used to associate beauty with soft- 
 ness in a man. I do not know why they should 
 be so coupled, and they never were with Jim. 
 Of all men that I have known he was the most 
 iron-hard, in body and in mind. Who was there 
 among us who could walk with him, or run with 
 him, or swim with him ? Who on all the coun- 
 tryside, save only Boy Jim, would have swung 
 himself over Wolstonbury cliff and clambered 
 down one hundred feet with the mother hawk 
 flapping at his ears in the vain struggle to hold 
 him from her nest ? He was but sixteen, with his 
 gristle not yet all set into bone when he fought 
 and beat Gypsy Lee of Burgess Hill, who called 
 himself the cock of the South Downs. It was 
 after this that Champion Harrison took his train- 
 ing as a boxer in hand. " I'd rather you left 
 
22 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 millin' alone, Boy Jim," said he, " and so had 
 the missus ; but if mill you must it will not be 
 my fault if you can not hold up your hands to 
 anything in the south country." And it was not 
 long before he made good his promise. 
 
 I have said already that Boy Jim had no love 
 for his books, but by that I meant his school- 
 books, for when it came to the reading of ro- 
 mances or of anything which had a touch of 
 gallantry or adventure, there was no tearing 
 him away from it until it was finished. When 
 such a book came into his hands Friar's Oak 
 and the smithy became a dream to him, and his 
 life was spent out upon the ocean or wandering 
 over the broad continents with his heroes. And 
 he would draw me into his enthusiasm also, so 
 that I was glad to play Friday to his Crusoe 
 when he proclaimed that the Clump at Clayton 
 was a desert island, and that we were cast upon 
 it for a week. But when I found that we were 
 actually to sleep out there without covering 
 every night, and that he proposed that our 
 food should be the sheep of the Downs (wild 
 goats he called them), cooked upon a fire which 
 was to be made by the rubbing together of two 
 sticks, my heart failed me, and on the very first 
 night I crept away to my mother. But Jim 
 staid out there for the whole weary week — a 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 23 
 
 wet week it was, too — and came back at the 
 end of it looking a deal wilder and dirtier than 
 his hero does in the picture books. It is well 
 that he had only promised to stay a week, for 
 if it had been a month, he would have died of 
 cold and hunger before his pride would have let 
 him come home. 
 
 His pride — that was the deepest thing in all 
 Jim's nature. It is a mixed quality, to my mind, 
 half a virtue and half a vice — a virtue in holding 
 a man out of the dirt, a vice in making it hard 
 for him to rise when once he has fallen. Jim was 
 proud down to the very marrow of his bones. 
 You remember the guinea that the young lord 
 had thrown him from the box of the coach. 
 Two days later somebody picked it from the 
 roadside mud. Jim only had seen where it had 
 fallen, and he would not deign even to point it 
 out to a beggar. Nor would he stoop to give a 
 reason, in such a case, but would answer all re- 
 monstrance with a curl of his lip and a flash of 
 his dark eyes. Even at school he was the same, 
 with such a sense of his own dignity that other 
 folk had to think of it too. He might say, as he 
 did say, that, a right angle was a proper sort of 
 an angle, o^f put Panama in Sicily, but old Joshua 
 Allen would as soon have thought of raising his 
 cane against him as he would of letting me off if 
 
24 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 I had said as much. And so it was that, although 
 Jim was the son of nobody, and I of a king's offi- 
 cer, it always seemed to me to have been a con- 
 descension on his part that he should have chosen 
 me as his friend. 
 
 It was this pride of Boy Jim's which led to an 
 adventure which makes me shiver now when I 
 think of it. 
 
 It happened in the August of '99, or it may 
 have been in the early days of September, but I 
 remember that we heard the cuckoo in Patcham 
 wood, and that Jim said that perhaps it was the 
 last of him. I was still at school, but Jim had 
 left, he being nigh sixteen and I thirteen. It was 
 my Saturday half-holiday, and we spent it, as we 
 often did, out upon the downs. Our favourite 
 place was beyond Wolstonbury, where we could 
 stretch ourselves upon the soft, springy chalk 
 grass among the plump little southdown sheep, 
 chatting with the shepherds as they leaned upon 
 their queer old Pyecombe crooks, made in the 
 days when Sussex turned out more iron than all 
 the counties of England. 
 
 It was there that we lay upon that glorious 
 afternoon. If we chose to roll upon our right 
 side the whole weald would lie in front of us, with 
 the north downs curving away in olive-green 
 folds, with here and there the snow-white rift of a 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 25 
 
 chalk pit. If we turned upon our left we over- 
 looked the huge blue stretch of the channel. A 
 convoy, as I can well remember, was coming up 
 it that day, the timid flock of merchantmen in 
 front, the frigates, like well-trained dogs, upon the 
 skirts, and two burly drover line-of-battle ships 
 rolling along behind them. My fancy was soar- 
 ing out to my father upon the waters, when a 
 word from Jim brought it back on to the grass 
 like a broken-winged gull. 
 
 " Roddy," said he, " have you heard that Cliffe 
 Royal is haunted ? " 
 
 Had I heard it? Of course I had heard it. 
 Who was there in all the Down country who had 
 not heard of the Walker of ClifFe Royal ? 
 
 " Do you know the story of it, Roddy ? " 
 
 " Why," said I, with some pride, " I ought to, 
 seeing that my mother's brother, Sir Charles Tre- 
 gellis, was the nearest friend of Lord Avon, and 
 was down at this card party when the thing hap- 
 pened. I heard the vicar and my mother talking 
 about it last week, and it was all so clear to me 
 that I might have been there when the murder 
 was done." 
 
 " It is a strange thing," said Jim, thoughtfully, 
 " but when I asked my aunt about it she would 
 give me no answer, and as to my uncle, he cut me 
 short at the very mention of it." 
 
26 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " There is a good reason for that," said I, " for 
 Lord Avon was, as I have heard, your uncle's 
 best friend, and it is but natural that he would 
 not wish to speak of his disgrace." 
 
 " Tell me the story, Roddy." 
 
 " It is an old one now — fourteen years old — 
 and yet they have not got to the end of it. There 
 were four of them who had come down from 
 London to spend a few days in Lord Avon's old 
 house. One was his own younger brother. Cap- 
 tain Harrington. Another was his cousin, Sir 
 Lothian Hume. Sir Charles Tregellis, my uncle, 
 .vv^as the third, and Lord Avon the fourth. They 
 are fond of playing cards for money, these great 
 people, and they played and played for two days 
 and a night. Lord Avon lost and Sir Lothian 
 lost, and my uncle lost, and Captain Harrington 
 won until he could win no more. He won their 
 money, but above all he won the papers from his 
 elder brother, which meant a great deal to him. 
 It was late on a Monday night that they stopped 
 playing. On the Tuesday morning Captain Har- 
 rington was found dead beside his bed with his 
 throat cut." 
 
 " And Lord Avon did it ? " 
 
 " His papers were found burned in the grate, 
 his wristband was clutched in the dead man's 
 hand, and his knife lay beside the body." 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 27 
 
 " Did they hang him then ? " 
 
 " They were too slow in laying hands upon 
 him. He waited until he saw that they had 
 brought it home to him, and then he fled. He 
 has never been seen since, but it is said that he 
 reached America." 
 
 " And the ghost of Captain Barrington walks ? " 
 
 " So it is said." 
 
 " Why is the house still empty ? " 
 
 " Because it is in the keeping of the law. 
 Lord Avon had no children, and Sir Lothian 
 Hume, he who was at the card party, is his 
 nephew and heir. But he can touch nothing 
 until he can prove Lord Avon to be dead." 
 
 Jim lay silent for a bit, plucking at the short 
 grass with his fingers. 
 
 " Roddy," said he at last, " will you come with 
 me to-night and look for the ghost ? " 
 
 It took me aback, the very thought of it. 
 
 " My mother would not let me." 
 
 " Slip out when she's abed. I'll wait for you 
 at the smithy." 
 
 " CliflEe Royal is locked." 
 
 " I'll open a window easily enough." 
 
 " I'm afraid, Jim." 
 
 " But you are not afraid if you are with me, 
 Roddy. I'll promise you that no ghost shall hurt 
 you." 
 
28 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 So I gave him my word that I would come, 
 and then all the rest of the day I went about, the 
 most sad-faced lad in Sussex. It was all very 
 well for Boy Jim ! It was that pride of his which 
 was taking him there. He would go because 
 there was no one else on the countryside that 
 would dare. But I had no pride of that sort. I 
 was quite of the same way of thinking as the 
 others, and would as soon have thought of pass- 
 ing my night at Jacob's gibbet on Ditchling Com- 
 mon as in the haunted house of Cliffe Royal. 
 Still, I could not bring myself to desert Jim, and 
 so, as I say, I slunk about the house with so pale 
 and peaky a face that my dear mother would have 
 it that I had been at the green apples, and sent me 
 to bed early with a dish of chamomile tea for my 
 supper. 
 
 England went to rest betimes in those days, 
 for there were few who could afford the price of 
 candles. When I looked out of my window just 
 after the clock had gone ten there was not a light 
 in the village, save only at the inn. It was but a 
 few feet from the ground, so I slipped out, and 
 there was Jim waiting for me at the smithy cor- 
 ner. We crossed John's Common together, and 
 so past Ridden's farm, meeting only one or two 
 riding officers upon the way. There was a brisk 
 wind blowing, and the moon kept peeping 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 29 
 
 through the rifts of the scud, so that our road 
 was sometimes silver clear and sometimes so 
 black that we found ourselves among the bram- 
 bles and gorsebushes which lined it. We came 
 at last to the wooden gate with the high stone 
 pillars by the roadside, and looking through be- 
 tween the rails, we saw the long avenue of oaks, 
 and at the end of this ill-boding tunnel the pale 
 face of the house glimmering in the moonshine. 
 
 That would have been enough for me, that 
 one glimpse of it, and the sound of the night 
 wind sighing and groaning among the branches. 
 But Jim swung the gate open, and up we went, 
 the gravel squeaking beneath our tread. It tow- 
 ered high, the old ^house, with many little win- 
 dows in which the moon glinted, and with a strip 
 of water running round three sides of it. The 
 arched door stood right in the face of us, and 
 on one side a lattice hung open upon its hinge. 
 
 " We're in luck, Roddy," whispered Jim. 
 " Here's one of the windows open." 
 
 " Don't you think we've gone far enough, 
 Jim ? " said I, with my teeth chattering. 
 
 " I'll lift you in first." 
 
 " No, no ; I'll not go first." 
 
 " Then I will." He gripped the sill, and had 
 his knees on it in an instant. " Now, Roddy, give 
 me your hands." With a pull he had me up be- 
 
30 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 side him, and a moment later we were both in the 
 haunted house. 
 
 How hollow it sounded when we jumped 
 down onto the wooden floor ! There was such 
 a sudden boom and reverberation that we both 
 stood silent for a moment. Then Jim burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 " What an old drum of a place it is ! " he 
 cried. " We'll strike a light, Roddy, and see 
 where we are." 
 
 He had brought a candle and a tinder box in 
 his pocket. When the flame burned up we saw 
 an arched stone roof above our heads and broad 
 deal shelves all round us, covered with dusty 
 dishes. It was the pantry. 
 
 " I'll show you round," said Jim, merrily, and, 
 pushing the door open, he led the way into the 
 hall. I remembered the high oak-panelled walls 
 with the heads of deer jutting out and a single 
 white bust, which sent my heart into my mouth, 
 in the corner. Many rooms opened out of this, 
 and we wandered from one to the other — the 
 kitchens, the still room, the morning room, the 
 dining room, all filled with the same choking 
 smell of dust and of mildew. 
 
 " This is where they played the cards, Jim," 
 said I in a hushed voice. " It was on that very 
 table." 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 31 
 
 " Why here are the cards themselves," cried 
 he, and he pulled a brown towel from something 
 in the centre of the sideboard. Sure enough it 
 was a pile of playing cards — forty packs, I should 
 think, at the least — which had lain there ever 
 since that tragic game which was played before I 
 was born. 
 
 " I wonder whence that stair leads?" said Jim. 
 
 " Don't go up there, Jim ! " I cried, clutching 
 at his arm. " That must lead to the room of the 
 murder." 
 
 " How do you know that?" 
 
 " The vicar said that they saw on the ceiling — 
 O Jim, you can see it even now ! " 
 
 He held up his candle, and there was a great 
 dark smudge which had sopped through the 
 white plaster above us. 
 
 " I believe you're right," said he, " but any- 
 how, I'm going up to have a look at it." 
 
 " Don't, Jim, don't ! " I cried. 
 
 "Tut, Roddy, you can stay here if you are 
 afraid. I won't be more than a minute. There's 
 no use going on a ghost hunt unless — my God ! 
 there's something coming down the stairs ! " 
 
 I heard it, too, a shuffling footstep in the room 
 above, and then a creak from the steps, and then 
 another creak, and another. I saw Jim's face as 
 if it had been carved out of ivory, with his parted 
 
32 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 lips and his staring eyes fixed upon the black 
 square of the stair opening. He still held the 
 light, but his fingers twitched, and with every 
 twitch the shadows sprang from the walls to the 
 ceiling. As to myself, my knees gave way under 
 me, and I found myself on the floor crouching 
 down behind Jim with a scream frozen in my 
 throat. And still the step came slowly from stair 
 to stair. 
 
 Then, hardly daring to look and yet unable to 
 turn away my eyes, I saw a figure dimly outlined 
 in the corner upon which the stair opened. There 
 was a silence in which I could hear my poor heart 
 thumping, and then when I looked again the fig- 
 ure was gone, and the low creak, creak was heard 
 once more upon the stairs. Jim sprang after it, 
 and I was left half fainting in the moonlight. 
 
 But it was not for long. He was down again 
 in a minute,' and passing his hand under my arm, 
 he half led and half carried me out of the house. 
 It was not until we were in the fresh night air 
 again that he opened his mouth. 
 
 " Can you stand, Roddy ? " 
 
 "Yes, but I'm shaking." 
 
 " So am I," said he, passing his hand over his 
 forehead. " I ask your pardon, Roddy. I was a 
 fool to bring you on such an errand. But I never 
 believed in such things. I know better now." 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 
 
 33 
 
 " Could it have been a man, Jim ? " I asked, 
 plucking up my courage, now that I could hear 
 the dogs barking on the farms. 
 
 " It was a spirit, Roddy." 
 
 " How do you know ? " 
 
 " Because I followed it, and saw it vanish into 
 a wall as easily as an eel into sand. Why, Roddy, 
 what's amiss now ? " 
 
 My fears were all back upon me, and every 
 nerve creeping with horror. " Take me away, 
 Jim ! Take me away ! " I cried. 
 
 I was glaring down the avenue, and his eyes 
 followed mine. Amid the gloom of the oak trees 
 something was coming toward us. 
 
 " Quiet, Roddy ! " whispered Jim. " By the 
 Lord, come what may, my arms are going round 
 it this time." 
 
 We crouched as motionless as the trunks be- 
 hind us. Heavy steps ploughed their way through 
 the soft gravel, and a broad figure loomed upon 
 us in the darkness. Jim sprang upon it like 
 a tiger. " You're not a spirit, anyway," he 
 cried. 
 
 The man gave a shout of surprise, and then a 
 
 growl of rage. " What the devil ! " he roared, 
 
 and then, " I'll break your neck if you don't let 
 
 go! 
 
 The threat might not have loosened Jim's 
 
34 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 grip, but the voice did. " Why, uncle ! " he 
 cried. 
 
 " Well, I'm blessed if it isn't Boy Jim ! And 
 what's this? Why, it's young Master Rodney 
 Stone, as I'm a living sinner! What in the world 
 are you two doing up at Cliffe Royal at this time 
 of night?" 
 
 We had all moved out into the moonlight, and 
 there was Champion Harrison with a big bundle 
 on his arm, and such a look of amazement upon 
 his face as would have brought a smile back on 
 to mine had my heart not been still cramped 
 with fear. 
 
 " We're exploring," said Jim. 
 
 " Exploring, are you ? Well, I don't think you 
 were meant to be Captain Cooks, either of you, 
 for I never saw such a pair of peeled-turnip faces. 
 Why, Jim, what are you afraid of?" 
 
 " I'm not afraid, uncle. I never was afraid. 
 But spirits are new to me, and " 
 
 " Spirits ? " 
 
 " I've been in Cliffe Royal, and we've seen the 
 ghost." 
 
 The champion gave a whistle. 
 
 " That's the game, is it?" said he. " Did you 
 have speech with it?" 
 
 " It vanished first." 
 
 The champion whistled once more. " I've 
 
THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. 35 
 
 heard there is something of the sort up yonder," 
 said he, " but it's not a thing as I would advise 
 you to meddle with. There's enough trouble 
 with the folks of this world, Boy Jim, without 
 going out of your way to mix up with those of 
 another. As to young Master Rodney Stone, if 
 his good mother saw that white face of his she'd 
 never let him come to the smithy more. Walk 
 slowly on, and I'll see you back to Friar's Oak." 
 
 We had gone half a mile perhaps when the 
 champion overtook ,us, and I could not but ob- 
 serve that the bundle was no longer under his 
 arm. We were nearly at the smithy before Jim 
 asked the question which was already in my 
 mind. 
 
 " What took you up to Cliffe Royal, uncle ? " 
 
 " Well, as a man gets on in years," said the 
 champion, " there's many a duty turns up that the 
 likes of you have no idea of. When you're near 
 forty yourself you'll maybe know the truth of 
 what I say." 
 
 So that was all that we could draw from him, 
 but, young as I was, I had heard of coast smug- 
 gling and of packages carried to lonely places at 
 night, so that from that time on if I heard that 
 the preventives had made a capture I was never 
 easy until I saw the jolly face of Champion Harri- 
 son looking out of his smithy door. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 
 
 I HAVE told you something about Friar's Oak 
 and the life which we led there. Now that my 
 memory goes back to the old place, it would 
 gladly linger, for every thread which I draw 
 from the skein of the past brings out half a dozen 
 others that were entangled with it. I was in two 
 minds when I began whether I had enough in me 
 to make a book of, and now I know that I could 
 write one about Friar's Oak alone, and the folk 
 whom I kneV in my childhood. They were hard 
 and uncouth, some of them, I doubt not, and yet, 
 seen through the golden haze of time, they all 
 seem sweet and lovable. There was our good 
 vicar, Mr. Jefferson, who loved the whole world, 
 save .only Mr. Slack, the Baptist minister of Clay- 
 ton ; and there was kindly Mr. Slack, who was all 
 men's brother, save only of Mr. Jefferson, the vicar 
 of Friar's Oak. Then theire was Monsieur Rudin, 
 
 the French royalist refugee, who lived over on 
 
 36 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 37 
 
 the Pangdean road, and who, when the news of a 
 victory came in, was convulsed with joy because 
 we had beaten Bonaparte, and shaken with rage 
 because we had beaten the French, so that after 
 the Nile he wept for a whole day out of delight, 
 and then for another one out of fury, alternately 
 clapping his hands and stamping his feet. Well 
 I remember his thin, upright figure and the way 
 in which he jauntily twirled his little cane, for 
 cold and hunger could not cast him down, though 
 we knew that he had his share of both. Yet he 
 was so proud and had such a grand manner of 
 talking that no one dared to offer him a cloak 
 or a meal. I can see his face now, with a flush 
 over each craggy cheek bone when the butcher 
 made him the present of some ribs of beef. 
 He could not but take it, and yet while he was 
 stalking off he threw a proud glance over his 
 shoulder at the butcher, and he said, " Monsieur, 
 I have a dog ! " Yet it was Monsieur Rudin and 
 not his dog who looked plumper for a week to 
 come. 
 
 Then I remember Mr. Paterson, the farmer, 
 who was what you would now call a radical, 
 though at that time some called him a Priestley-ite, 
 and some a Fox-ite, and nearly everybody a traitor. 
 It certainly seemed to me at the time to be very 
 wicked that a man should look glum when he 
 
38 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 heard of a British victory, and when they burned 
 his straw image at the gate of his farm, Boy Jim 
 and I were among those who lent a hand. But 
 we were bound to confess he had game, though 
 he might be a traitor, for down he came striding 
 into the midst of us, with his brown coat and his 
 buckled shoes, and the fire beating upon his grim 
 schoolmaster face. My word how he rated us, 
 and how glad we were at last to sneak quietly 
 away ! " You livers of a lie," said he. " You and 
 those like you have been preaching peace for nigh 
 two thousand years, and cutting throats the whole 
 time ! If the money that is lost in taking French 
 lives were spent in saving English ones, you would 
 have more right to burn candles in your windows.. 
 Who are you that dare to come here to insult a 
 law-abiding man ? " " We are the people of Eng- 
 land," cried young Master Ovington, the son of 
 the Tory squire. " You — you horse-racing, cock- 
 iighting, ne'er-do-weel, do you presume to talk 
 for the people of England? They are a deep, 
 strong, silent stream, and you are the scum, the 
 bubbles, the poor silly froth that floats upon the 
 surface." We thought him very wicked then, but, 
 looking back, I am not sure that we were not 
 very wicked ourselves. 
 
 And then there were the smugglers ! The 
 Downs swarmed with them, for since there might 
 
My word, how he rated us ! 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 
 
 39 
 
 be no lawful trade between France and England it 
 had all to run in that channel. I have been up on 
 St. John's Common upon a dark night, and, lying 
 among the bracken, I Jiave seen as many as sev- 
 enty mules and a man at the head of each go flit- 
 ting past me as silently as fish in a stream. Not 
 one of them but bore its two ankers of the right 
 French cognac, or its bale of silk of Lyons and 
 lace of Valenciennes. I knew Dan Scales, the 
 head of them, and I knew Tom Hislop, the riding 
 officer, and I remember the night they met. " Do 
 you fight, Dan?" asked Tom. "Yes, Tom, thou 
 must fight for it." On which Tom drew his pis- 
 tol and blew Dan's brains out. " It was a sad 
 thing to do," he said afterward, "but I knew Dan 
 was too good a man for me, for we tried it out 
 before." It was Tom who paid a poet from 
 Brighton to write the lines for the tombstone, 
 which we all thought were very true and good, 
 beginning — 
 
 Alas ! Swift flew the fatal lead 
 Which pierced the young man's head ; 
 He instant fell, resigned his breath, • 
 And closed his languid eyes in death. 
 
 There was more of it, and I dare say it is all 
 still to be read in Patcham churchyard. 
 
 One day about the time of our Cliffe Royal 
 adventure I was seated in the cottage looking 
 
40 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 round at the curios which my father had fastened 
 on to the walls, and wishing, like the lazy lad that 
 I was, that Mr. Lilly had died before ever he 
 wrote his Latin grammar, when my mother, who 
 was sitting knitting in the window, gave a little 
 cry of surprise. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " she cried. " What a vulgar- 
 looking woman ! " 
 
 It was so rare to hear my mother say a hard 
 word against anybody (unless it were General 
 Bonaparte) that I was across the room and at the 
 window in a jump. A pony chaise was coming 
 slowly down the village street, and in it was the 
 queerest-looking person that I had ever seen. 
 She was very stout, with a face that was of so 
 dark a red that it shaded away into purple over 
 the nose and cheeks. She wore a great hat, with 
 a white curling ostrich feather, and from under its 
 brim her two bold black eyes stared out with a 
 look of anger and defiance as if to tell the folk 
 that she thought less of them than they could of 
 her. She had some sort of scarlet pelisse, with 
 white swansdown, about her neck, and she held 
 the reins slack in her hands, while the pony wan- 
 dered from side to side of the road as the fancy 
 took him. Each time the'pony swayed, her head 
 with the great hat swayed also, so that sometimes 
 we saw the crown of it and sometimes the brim. 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 41 
 
 " What a dreadful sight ! " cried my mother. 
 
 " What is amiss with her, mother?" 
 
 " Heaven forgive me if I misjudge her, Rod- 
 ney, but I think that the unfortunate woman has 
 been drinking." 
 
 " Why," I cried, " she has pulled the chaise up 
 at the smithy. I'll find out all the news for you," 
 and catching up my cap, away I scampered. 
 
 Champion Harrison had been shoeing a horse 
 at the forge door, and when I got into the street 
 I could see him with the creature's hoof still 
 under his arm and the rasp in his hand, kneeling 
 down amid the white parings. The woman was 
 beckoning him from the chaise, and he staring at 
 her with the queerest expression on his face. 
 Presently he threw down his rasp and went across 
 to her, standing by the wheel and shaking his 
 head as he talked to her. For my part I slipped 
 into the smithy, where Boy Jim was finishing the 
 shoe, and I watched the neatness of his work and 
 the deft way in which he turned up the calkins. 
 When he had done with it he carried it out, and 
 there was the strange woman still talking with his 
 uncle. 
 
 " Is that he ? " I heard her ask. 
 
 Champion Harrison nodded. 
 
 She looked at Jim, and I never saw such eyes 
 in a human head, so large and black and wonder- 
 
42 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ful. Boy as I was, I knew that in spite of that 
 bloated face this woman had once been very 
 beautiful. She put out a hand, with all the 
 fingers going, as if she were playing on the harp- 
 sichord, and she touched Jim on the shoulder. 
 
 " I hope — I hope you're well," she stammered. 
 
 " Very well, mam," said Jim, staring from her 
 to his uncle. 
 
 "And happy, too?" 
 
 " Yes, mam, I thank you." 
 
 " Nothing that you crave for?" 
 
 " Why, no, mam, I have all that I lack." 
 • " That will do, Jim," said his uncle in a stern • 
 voice. " Blow up the forge again, for that shoe 
 wants reheating." 
 
 But it seemed as if the woman had something 
 else that she would say, for she was angry that 
 he should be sent away. Her eyes gleamed and 
 her head tossed while the smith, with his two big 
 hands outspread, seemed to be soothing her as 
 best he could. For a long time they whispered, 
 until at last she seemed to be satisfied. 
 
 " To-morrow, then ? " she cried out loud. 
 
 " To-morrow," he answered. 
 
 " You keep your word, and I'll keep mine," 
 said she, and dropped the lash on the pony's 
 back. The smith stood with, the rasp in his hand 
 looking after her until she was just a little red 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 43 
 
 spot on the white road. Then he turned, and I 
 never saw his face so grave. 
 
 " Jim," said he, " that's Miss Hinton, who has 
 come to live at the Maples out Anstey Cross way. 
 She's taken kind of a fancy to you, Jim, and may 
 be she can help you on a bit. I promised her 
 that you would go over and see her to-morrow." 
 
 " I don't want her help, uncle, and I don't 
 want to see her." 
 
 " But I've promised, Jim, and you wouldn't 
 make me out a liar. She does but want to talk 
 with you, for it is a lonely life she leads." 
 
 " What would she want to talk with such as 
 me about? " 
 
 " Why, I can not say that, but she seemed very 
 set upon it, and women have their fancies. There's 
 young Master Stone here, who wouldn't refuse to 
 go and see a good lady, I'll warrant, if he thought 
 he might better his fortune by doing so." 
 
 " Well, uncle, I'll go if Roddy Stone will go 
 with me," said Jim. 
 
 " Of course he'll go. — Won't you, Master 
 Rodney?" 
 
 So it ended in my saying yes, and back I went 
 with all my news to my mother, who dearly loved 
 a little bit of gossip. She shook her head when 
 she heard where I was going, but she did not say 
 nay, and so it was settled. 
 
44 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 It was a good four miles of a walk, but when 
 we reached it you would not wish to see a more 
 cosey little house, all honeysuckle and creepers, 
 with a wooden porch and lattice windows. A 
 common-looking woman opened the door for us. 
 
 " Miss Hinton can not see you," said she. 
 
 " But she asked us to come," said Jim. 
 
 " I can't help that," cried the woman, in a 
 rude voice. " I tell you that she can't see you." 
 
 We stood irresolute for a minute. 
 
 " Maybe you would just tell her I am here," 
 said Jim at last. 
 
 " Tell her ! How am I to tell her when she 
 couldn't so much as hear a pistol in her ears. 
 Try and tell her yourself, if you have a mind to." 
 She threw open a door as she spoke, and there 
 in a reclining chair at the farther end of the room 
 we caught a glimpse of a figure all lumped to- 
 gether, huge and shapeless, with tails of black 
 hair hanging down. The sound of dreadful swine- 
 like breathing fell upon our ears. It was but a 
 glance, and then we were off hot-foot for home. 
 As for me, I was so young that I was not sure 
 whether this was funny or terrible, but when I 
 looked at Jim, to see how he took it, he was look- 
 ing quite white and ill. 
 
 " You'll not tell any one, Roddy ? " said he. 
 
 " Not unless it's my mother." 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 45 
 
 " I won't even tell my uncle. I'll say she was 
 ill, the poor lady ! It's enough that we should 
 have seen her in her shame, without its being the 
 gossip of the village. It makes me feel sick and 
 heavy at heart." 
 
 " She was so yesterday, Jim." 
 
 " Was she ? I never marked it. But I know 
 that she has kind eyes and a kind heart, for I saw 
 the one in the other when she looked at me. 
 Maybe it's the want of a friend that has driven 
 her to this." 
 
 It blighted his spirits for days, and when it 
 had all gone from my mind it was brought back 
 to me by his manner. But it was not to be our 
 last memory of the lady with the scarlet pelisse, 
 for before the week was out Jim came round to 
 ask me if I would again go up with him. 
 
 " My uncle has had a letter," said he. " She 
 would speak with me, and I would be easier if 
 you came with me. Rod." 
 
 For me it was only a pleasure outing, but I 
 could see, as we drew near the house, that Jim 
 was troubling in his mind lest we should find that 
 things were amiss. His fears were soon set at 
 rest, however, for we had scarce clicked the gar- 
 den gate before the woman was out of the door 
 of the cottage and running down the path to meet 
 us. She was so strange a figure, with some sort 
 
^6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 of purple wrapper on, and her big flushed face 
 smiling out of it, that I might, if I had been alone, 
 have taken to my heels at the sight of her. Even 
 Jim stopped for a moment as if he were not very 
 sure of himself, but her hearty ways soon set us 
 at our ease. 
 
 " It is indeed good of you to come and see an 
 old lonely woman," said she, " and I owe you an 
 apology that I should give you a fruitless journey 
 on Tuesday, but in a sense you were yourselves 
 the cause of it, since the thought of your coming 
 had excited me, and any excitement throws me 
 into a nervous fever. My poor nerves ! You can 
 see yourselves how they serve me." 
 
 She held out her twitching hands as she spoke. 
 Then she passed one of them through Jim's arm, 
 and walked with him up the path. 
 
 " You must let me know you and know you 
 well," said she. " Your uncle and aunt are quite 
 old acquaintances of mine, and though you can 
 not remember me if I have held you in my arms 
 when you were an infant. — Tell me, little man," 
 she added, turning to me, " what do you call your 
 friend ? " 
 
 " Boy Jim, mam," said I. 
 
 " Then if you will not think me forward I will 
 call you Boy Jim also. We elderly people have 
 our privileges, you know. And now yoii will 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 
 
 47 
 
 come in with me and we will take a dish of tea 
 together." 
 
 She led the way into a cosey room, the same 
 which we had caught a glimpse of when first we 
 came, and there in the middle was a table with 
 white napery and shining glass and gleaming 
 china, and red-cheeked apples piled up on a cen- 
 tre dish, and a great plateful of smoking muffins 
 which the cross-faced maid had just carried in. 
 You can think that we did justice to all the good 
 things, and Miss Hinton would ever keep press- 
 ing us to pass our cup and fill our plate. Twice 
 during our meal she rose from her chair and 
 withdrew into a cupboard at the end of the room, 
 and each time I saw Jim's face cloud, for we 
 heard a gentle click of glass against glass. 
 
 " Come, now, little man," said she to me when 
 the table had been cleared. " Why are you look- 
 ing round so much ? " 
 
 " Because there are so many pretty things 
 upon the walls." 
 
 " And which do you think the prettiest of 
 them ? " 
 
 " Why, that ! " said I, pointing to a picture 
 which hung opposite to me. It was of a tall and 
 slender girl, with the rosiest cheeks and the ten- 
 derest eyes — so daintily dressed, too, that I had 
 never seen anything more perfect. She had a 
 
48 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 posy of flowers in her hand and another one was 
 lying upon the planks of wood upon which she 
 was standing, 
 
 "Oh, that's the prettiest, is it?" said she, 
 laughing. " Well, now, walk up to it and let us 
 hear what is writ beneath it." 
 
 1 did as she asked, and read out : " Miss Polly 
 Hinton as Peggy, in the Country Wife, played 
 for her benefit at the Haymarket Theatre, Sep- 
 tember 14, 1780! " 
 
 " It's a play actress," said I. 
 
 " Oh, you rude little boy, to say it in such a 
 tone ! " said she ; " as if a play actress wasn't as 
 good as any one else. Why, 'twas but the other 
 day that the Duke of Clarence, who may come to 
 call himself King of England, married Mrs. Jor- 
 dan, who was herself only a play actress. And 
 whom think you that this one is ? " She stood 
 under the picture with her arms folded across her 
 great body and her big black eyes looking from 
 one to the other of us. 
 
 " Why, where are your e)'es ? " she cried at 
 last. " I was Miss Polly Hinton of the Haymar- 
 ket Theatre. And perhaps you never heard the 
 name before." 
 
 We were compelled to confess that we never 
 had. And the very name of play actress had 
 filled us both with a kind of vague horror like the 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 49 
 
 country-bred folk that we were. To us they 
 were a class apart, to be hinted at rather than 
 named, with the wrath of the Almighty hanging 
 over them like a thundercloud. Indeed, his judg- 
 ments seemed to be in visible operation before us 
 when we looked upon what this woman was and 
 what she had been. 
 
 " Well," said she, laughing like one who is 
 hurt, " you have no cause to say anything, for I 
 read on your faces what you have been taught to 
 think of me. So this is the upbringing you have 
 had, Jim, to think evil of that which you do not 
 understand ! I wish you had been in the theatre 
 that very night with Prince Florizel and four 
 dukes in the boxes, and all the wits and maca- 
 ronis of London rising at me in the pit. If Lord 
 Avon had not given me a cast in his carriage I 
 had never got the flowers back to my lodgings in 
 York Street, Westminster. And now two little 
 country lads are sitting in judgment upon me." 
 
 Jim's pride brought a flush to his cheeks, for 
 he did not like to be called a country lad, or to 
 have it supposed that he was so far behind the 
 grand folk in London. 
 
 " I have never been inside a playhouse," said 
 he. " I know nothing of them." 
 
 " Nor I either." 
 
 " Well," said she, " I am not in voice, and it is 
 
50 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ill to play in a little room, with but two to listen, 
 but you must conceive me to be the queen of the 
 Peruvians, who is exhorting her countrymen to 
 rise up against the Spaniards who are oppressing 
 them." 
 
 And straightway that coarse, swollen woman 
 became a queen, the grandest, haughtiest queen 
 that you could dream of, and she turned upon us 
 with such words of fire, such lightning eyes and 
 sweeping of her white hand, that she held us spell- 
 bound in our chairs. Her voice was soft and 
 sweet and persuasive at the first, but louder it 
 rang, and louder, as it spoke of wrongs and free- 
 dom, and the joys of death in a good cause, until 
 it thrilled into my every nerve, and I asked noth- 
 ing more than to run out of the cottage and to 
 die then and there in the cause of my country. 
 And then in an instant she changed. She was a 
 poor woman now, who had lost her only child, 
 and who was bewailing it. Her voice was full of 
 tears, and what she said was so simple, so true, 
 that we both seemed to see the dead babe 
 stretched there on the carpet before us, and we 
 could have joined in with words of pity and of 
 grief. And then, before our cheeks were dry, she 
 was back into her old self again, 
 
 "How like you that, then?" she cried. "That 
 was my way in the days when Sally Siddons 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 51 
 
 would turn green at the name of Polly Hinton. 
 It's a fine play, is ' Pizarro.' " 
 
 " And who wrote it, mam ? " 
 
 " Who wrote it ? I never hea^d. What mat- 
 ter who did the writing of it ! But there are 
 some great lines for one who knows how they 
 should be spoken." 
 
 " And you play no longer, mam ? " 
 
 " No, Jim, I left the boards when — when I was 
 weary of them. But my heart goes back to them 
 sometimes. It seems to me that there is no smell 
 like that of the hot oil in the footlights, and of the 
 oranges in the pit. But you are sad, Jim." 
 
 " It was but the thought of that poor woman 
 and her child." 
 
 " Tut, never think about her ! I will soon 
 wipe her from your mind. This is Miss Priscilla 
 Tomboy from ' The Romp.' You must conceive 
 that the mother is speaking, and that the forward 
 young minx is answering." 
 
 And she began a scene between the two of 
 them, so exact in voice and manner that it seemed 
 to us as if there were really two folk before us, 
 the stern old mother, with her hand up like an 
 ear-trumpet, and her flouncing, bouncing daugh- 
 ter. Her great figure danced about with a won- 
 derful lightness, and she tossed her head .and 
 pouted her lips as she answered back to the old 
 
52 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 bent figure that addressed her. Jim and I had 
 forgotten our tears and were holding our ribs be- 
 fore she came to the end of it. 
 
 " That is better," said she, smiling at our 
 laughter. " I would not have you go back to 
 Friar's Oak with long faces, or maybe they would 
 not let you come to me again." She vanished 
 into her cupboard and came out with a bottle and 
 glass, which she placed upon the table. 
 
 " You are too young for strong waters," she 
 said, " but this talking gives me a dryness 
 and " 
 
 Then it was that Boy Jim did a wonderful 
 thing. He rose from his chair and he laid his 
 hand upon the bottle. 
 
 " Don't ! " said he. 
 
 She looked him in the face, and I can still 
 see those black eyes of hers softening before his 
 gaze. 
 
 " Am I to have none ? " 
 
 " Please don't." 
 
 With a quick movement she wrested the bot- 
 tle out of his hand and raised it up so that for a 
 moment it entered my head that she was about to 
 drink it off. Then she flung it through the open 
 lattice, and we heard the crash of it on the path 
 outside. 
 
 " There, Jim ! " said she. " Does that satisfy 
 
THE PLAY ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS. 
 
 53 
 
 you ? It's long since any one cared whether I 
 drank or no." 
 
 " You are too good and kind for that," said he. 
 
 " Good ! " she cried. " Well, I love that you 
 should think me so. And it would make you 
 happier if I kept from the brandy, Jim ? Well, 
 then I'll make you a promise if you'll make me 
 one in return." 
 
 " What's that, miss ? " 
 
 " No drop shall pass my lips, Jim, if you will 
 swear, wet or shine, blow or snow, to come up 
 here twice in every week that I may see you and 
 speak with you, for, indeed, there are times when 
 I am very lonesome." 
 
 So the promise was made, and very faithfully 
 did Jim keep it, for many a time when I have 
 wanted him to go fishing or rabbit snaring he has 
 remembered that it was his day for Miss Hinton, 
 and has tramped ofif to Anstey Cross. At first I 
 think that she found her share of the bargain 
 hard to keep, and I have seen Jim come back 
 with a black face on him, as if things were go- 
 ing amiss. But after a time the fight was won, 
 . as all fights are won if one does but fight long 
 enough, and in the year before my father came 
 back Miss Hinton had become another woman. 
 And it was not her ways only, but herself as well, 
 for from being the person that I have described, 
 
54 RODNfiY STONE. 
 
 she became in one twelvemonth as fine a looking 
 lady as there was in the whole countryside. Jim 
 was prouder of it by far than of anything he had 
 a hand in in his life, but it was only to me that 
 he ever spoke about it, for he had that tender- 
 ness toward her that one has for those whom we 
 have helped. And she helped him also, for by 
 her talk of the world and of what she had seen, 
 she took his mind away from the Sussex coun- 
 tryside and prepared it for a broader ^life be- 
 yond. So matters stood between them at the 
 time when peace was made, and my father came 
 home from the sea. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 
 
 Many a woman's knee was on the ground and 
 many a woman's soul spent itself in joy and thank- 
 fulness when the news came with the fall of the 
 leaf in 1801 that the preliminaries of peace had 
 been settled. All England waved her gladness 
 by day and twinkled it by night. Even in little 
 Friar's Oak we had our flags flying bravely, and 
 a candle in every window, with a big G. R. flut- 
 tering in the wind over the door of the inn. Folk 
 were weary of the war, for we had been at it for 
 eight years, taking Holland and Spain and France 
 each in turn, and all together. All that we had 
 learned during that time was that our little army 
 was no match for the French on land, and that 
 our large navy was more than a match for them 
 upon the water. We had gained some credit, 
 which we were sorely in need of after the 
 American . business, and a few colonies, which 
 were welcome also for the same reason, but our 
 5 55 
 
56 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 debt had gone on rising and our consols sinking 
 until even Pitt stood aghast. Still, if we had 
 known that there never could be peace between 
 Napoleon and ourselves, and that this was only 
 the end of a round and not of the battle, we 
 should have been better advised had we fought 
 it out without a break. As it was the French got 
 back the twenty thousand good seamen whom we 
 had captured, and a fine dance they led us with 
 their Boulogne flotillas and fleets of invasion be- 
 fore we were able to catch them again. 
 
 My father, as I remember him best, was a 
 tough, strong, little man, of no great breadth, 
 but solid and well put together. His face was 
 burned of a reddish colour, as bright as a flower- 
 pot, and in spite of his age (for he was only forty 
 at the time of which I speak) it was shot with 
 lines which deepened if he were in any way 
 perturbed, so that I have seen him turn on the 
 instant froifi a youngish man to an elderly. 
 His eyes especially were meshed round with 
 wrinkles, as is natural for one who had puck- 
 ered them all his life in facing foul wind and 
 bitter weather. Those eyes were perhaps his 
 strongest feature, for they were of a very clear 
 and beautiful blue, which shone the brighter out 
 of that ruddy setting. By nature he must have 
 been a fair-skinned man, for his upper brow, 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 
 
 57 
 
 where his hat came over it, was as white as 
 mine, and his close-cropped hair was tawny. 
 
 He had served, as he was proud to say, in the 
 last of our ships which had been chased out of 
 the Mediterranean in '97, and in the first which 
 had re-entered it in '98. He was under Miller, as 
 third lieutenant of the Theseus, when our fleet, 
 like a pack of eager foxhounds in a covert, was 
 dashing from Sicily to Syria, and back again to 
 Naples, trying to pick up the lost scent. With 
 the same good fighting man he served at the 
 Nile, where the men of his command sponged 
 and rammed and trained until, when the last tri- 
 colour had come down, they hove up the sheet 
 anchor and fell dead asleep upon the top of each 
 other under the capstan bars. Then, as a second 
 lieutenant, he was in one of these grim three- 
 deckers with powder-blackened hulls and crim- 
 son scupper holes, their spare cables tied round 
 their keels and over their bulwarks, to hold them 
 together, which carried the news into the bay of 
 Naples. Thence, as a reward for his services, he 
 was transferred as first lieutenant to the Aurora 
 frigate, engaged in cutting off supplies from 
 Genoa, and in her he still remained until long 
 after peace was declared. 
 
 How well I can remember his home-coming ! 
 Though it is now eight and forty years ago, it 
 
58 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 is clearer to me than the doings of last week, for 
 the memory of an old man is like one of those 
 glasses which shows out what is at a distance and 
 blurs all that is near. 
 
 My rnother had been in a tremble ever since 
 the first rumour of the preliminaries came to our 
 ears, for she knew that he might come as soon 
 as his message. She said little, but she saddened 
 my life by insisting that I should be forever clean 
 and tidy. With every rumble of wheels, too, her 
 eyes would fly toward the door and her hands 
 steal up to smooth her pretty black hair. She 
 had embroidered a white " welcome " upon a 
 blue ground, with an anchor in red upon each 
 side, and a border of laurel leaves, and this was 
 to hang upon the two lilac bushes which flanked 
 the cottage door. He could not have left the 
 Mediterranean before we had this finished, and 
 every morning she looked to see if it were in its 
 place and ready to be hanged. 
 
 But it was a weary time before the peace was 
 ratified, and it was April of next year before our 
 great day came round to us. It had been rain- 
 ing all morning, I remember — a soft, spring rain, 
 which sent up a rich smell from the brown earth, 
 and pattered pleasantly upon the budding chest- 
 nuts behind our cottage. The sun had shone out 
 in the evening, and I had come down with my 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 
 
 59 
 
 fishing rod (for I had promised Boy Jim to go 
 with him to the millstream), when what should 
 I see but a postchaise with two smoking horses 
 at the gate, and there in the open door of it were 
 my mother's black skirt and her little feet jutting 
 out, with two blue arms for a waist belt, and all 
 the rest of her buried in the chaise ! Away I ran 
 for the motto, and I pinned it up on the bushes 
 as we had agreed. When I had finished there 
 were the skirts and the feet and the blue arms 
 just the same as before. 
 
 " Here's Rod," said my mother at last, strug- 
 gling down on to the ground again. " Roddy, 
 darling, here's your father ! " 
 
 I saw the red face and the kindly light blue 
 eyes looking out at me. " Why, Roddy, lad, you 
 were but a child, and we kissed good-bye when 
 last we met, but I suppose we must put you on 
 a different rating now. I'm right glad from my 
 heart to see you, dear lad, and as to you, sweet- 
 heart ! " The blue arms flew out and there 
 
 were the skirt and the two feet fixed in the door 
 again. 
 
 " Here are the folk coming, Anson," said my 
 mother, blushing. " Won't you get out and come 
 in with us ? " 
 
 And then suddenly it came home to us both 
 that for all his cheery face he had never moved 
 
6o RODNEY STONE. 
 
 more than his arms, and that his leg was resting 
 on the opposite seat of the chaise. 
 
 " O Anson, Anson ! " she cried. 
 
 " Tut, 'tis but the bone of my leg," said he, 
 taking his knee between his hands and lifting 
 it round. " I got it broke in the bay, but the 
 surgeon has fished it and spliced it, though it's 
 a bit crank yet. Why, bless her kindly heart, if 
 I haven't turned her from pink to white. You 
 can see for yourself that it's nothing ! " 
 
 He sprang out as he spoke, and with one leg 
 and a staff he hopped swiftly up the path, and 
 under the laurel-bordered motto, and so over 
 his own threshold for the first time for five 
 years. When the postboy and I had carried 
 up the sea chest and the two canvas bags there 
 he was sitting in his armchair by the window in 
 his old weather-stained blue coat. My mother 
 was weeping over his poor leg, and he patting 
 her hair with one brown hand. His other he 
 threw round my waist and drew me to the side 
 of his chair. 
 
 " Now that we have peace I can lie up and 
 refit until King George wants me again," said 
 he. " 'Twas a carronade that came adrift in the 
 bay when it was blowing a topgallant breeze 
 with a beam sea. Ere we could make it fast it 
 had me jammed against the mast. Well, well ! " 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 6l 
 
 he added, looking around at the walls of the 
 room. " Here are all my old curios, the same 
 as ever, the narwhal's horn from the Arctic, and 
 the blowfish from the Moluccas, and the paddles 
 from Fiji, and the picture of the Ca Ira with 
 Lord Hobham in chase. And here you are, 
 Mary, and you also, Roddy, and good luck to 
 the carronade which has sent me into so snug 
 a harbour without fear of sailing orders." 
 
 My mother had his long pipe and his tobacco 
 all ready for him, so that he was able now to light 
 it, and to sit looking from one of us to the other 
 and then back again, as if he could never see 
 enough of us. Young as I was, I could still un- 
 derstand that this was the moment which he had 
 thought of during many a lonely watch, and that 
 the expectation of it had cheered his heart in 
 many a dark hour. Sometimes he would touch 
 one of us with his hand, and sometimes the 
 other, and so he sat, with his soul too satiated 
 for words, while the shadows gathered in the 
 little room, and the lights of the inn windows 
 glimmered through the gloom. And then, after 
 my mother had lit our own lamp, she slipped 
 suddenly down upon her knees, and he got one 
 knee to the ground also, so that, hand in hand, 
 they joined their thanks to Heaven for manifold 
 mercies. When I look back at my parents as 
 
62 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 they were in those days, it is at that very mo- 
 ment that I can picture them most clearly, her 
 sweet face, with the wet shining upon her cheeks, 
 and his blue eyes upturned to the smoke-black- 
 ened ceiling. I remember that he swayed his 
 reeking pipe in the earnestness of his prayer, so 
 that I was half tears and half smiles as I watched 
 him. 
 
 " Roddy, lad," said he, after supper was over, 
 "you're getting a man now, and I suppose you 
 will go afloat like the rest of us. You're old 
 enough to strap a dirk to your thigh." 
 
 "And leave me without a child as well as 
 without a husband ? " cried my mother. 
 
 "Well, there's time enough yet," said he, "for 
 they are more inclined to empty berths than to 
 fill them, now that peace has come. But I've 
 never tried what all this schooling has done for 
 you, Rodney. You have had a great deal more 
 than ever I had, but I dare say I can make shift 
 to test it. Have you learned history?" 
 
 " Yes, father," said I, with some confidence. 
 
 " Then how many sail of the line were at the 
 battle of Camperdown ? " 
 
 He shook his head gravely when he found 
 that I could not answer him. 
 
 " Why, there are men in the fleet who never 
 had any schooling at all who could tell you that 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 
 
 63 
 
 we had seven seventy-fours, seven sixty-fours, 
 and two fifty-gun ships in the action. There's a 
 picture on the wall of the chase of the (^a Ira. 
 Which were the ships that laid her aboard?" 
 
 Again I had to confess that he had beaten me. 
 
 " Well, your dad can teach you something in 
 history yet," he cried, looking in triumph at my 
 mother. " Have you learned geography ? " 
 
 " Yes, father," said I, though with less confi- 
 dence than before. 
 
 " Well, how far is it from Port Mahon to 
 Algeciras ? " 
 
 I could only shake my head. 
 
 " If Ushant lay three leagues upon your star- 
 board quarter, what would be your nearest Eng- 
 lish port?" 
 
 Again I had to give it up. 
 
 " Well, I don't see that your geography is 
 much better than your history," said he. " You'd 
 never get your certificate at this rate. Can you 
 do addition ? Well, then, let us see if you can tot 
 up my prize money." 
 
 He shot a mischievous glance at my mother 
 as he spoke, and she laid down her knitting in 
 her lap and looked very earnestly at him. 
 
 " You never asked me about that, Mary," 
 said he. 
 
 " The Mediterranean is not the station for it. 
 
64 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Anson. I have heard you say it is the. Atlantic 
 for prize money and the Mediterranean for honr 
 our." 
 
 " I had a share of both last cruise, which 
 comes from changing a line-of-battle ship for a 
 frigate. Now, Rodney, there are two pounds in 
 every hundred due to me when the prize courts 
 have done with them. When we were watching 
 Massena off Genoa we got a matter of seventy 
 schooners, brigs, and tartans, with wine, food, 
 and powder. Lord Keith will want his finger in 
 the pie, but that's for the courts to settle. Put 
 them at four pounds apiece to me, and what will 
 the seventy bring ? " 
 
 " Two hundred and eighty pounds," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 " Why, Anson, it is a fortune ! " cried my 
 mother, clapping her hands. 
 
 " Try it again, Roddy ! " said he, shaking his 
 pipe at me. "There was the xebec frigate out 
 of Barcelona, with twenty thousand Spanish dol- 
 lars aboard, which make four thousand of our 
 pounds. Her hull should be worth another 
 thousand. What's my share of that? " 
 
 " A hundred pounds." 
 
 " Why, the purser couldn't work it out 
 quicker," he cried in his delight. " Here's for 
 you again ! We passed the straits and worked 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 65 
 
 up to the Azores, where we fell in with the La 
 Sabina, from the Mauritius, with sugar and 
 spices. , Twelve hundred pounds she's worth to 
 me, Mary, my darling, and never again shall you 
 soil your pretty fingers or pinch upon my beg- 
 garly pay." 
 
 My dear mother had borne her long struggle 
 without a sign all these years, but now that she 
 was so suddenly eased of it she fell sobbing upon 
 his neck. It was a long time before my father 
 had a thought to spare upon my examination in 
 arithmetic. 
 
 " It's all in your lap, Mary," said he, dashing 
 his own hand across his eyes. " By George ! lass, 
 when this leg of mine is sound we'll bear down 
 for a spell to Brighton, and if there is a smarter 
 frock than yours upon the Steyne may I never 
 tread a. poop again. But how is it that you are 
 so quick at figures, Rodney, when you know 
 nothing of history or geography ? " 
 
 I tried to explain that addition was the same 
 upon sea or land, but that history and geography 
 were not. 
 
 " Well," he concluded, " you need figures to 
 take a reckoning, and you need nothing else save 
 what your mother wit will teach you. There 
 never was one of our breed who did not take to 
 salt water like a young gull. Lord Nelson has 
 
66 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 promised me a vacancy for you, and he'll be as 
 good as his word." 
 
 So it was that my father came home to us, 
 and a better or kinder no lad could wish for. 
 Though my parents had been married so long 
 they had really seen very little of each other, and 
 their affection was as warm and fresh as if they 
 were two newly wedded lovers. I have learned 
 since that sailors can be coarse and foul, but 
 never did I know it from my father, for, although 
 he had seen as much rough work as the wildest 
 could wish for, he was always the same patient, 
 good-humoured man, with a smile and a kindly 
 word for all the village. He could suit himself 
 to his company, too, for on the one hand he 
 could take his wine with the vicar, or with Sir 
 James Ovington, the squire of the parish, while 
 on the other he would sit by the hour among 
 my humble friends down in the smithy, with 
 Champion Harrison, Boy Jim and the rest of 
 them, telling them such stories of Nelson and 
 his men that I have seen the champion knot his 
 great hands together, while Jim's eyes have 
 smouldered like the forge embers as he listened. 
 
 My father had been placed on half-pay, like 
 so many other of the old war officers, and so 
 for nearly two years he was able to remain with 
 us. During all this time I can only once re- 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 
 
 67 
 
 member that there was the slightest disagree- 
 ment between him and my mother. It chanced 
 that I was the cause of it, and as great events 
 sprang out of it, I must tell you how it came 
 about. It was indeed the first of a series of 
 events which affected not only my fortunes, 
 but those of very much more important peo- 
 ple. 
 
 The spring of 1803 was an early one, and 
 the middle of April saw the leaves thick upon 
 the chestnut trees. One evening we were all 
 seated over a dish of tea when we heard the 
 scrunch of steps outside our door, and there 
 was the postman with a letter in his hand. 
 
 " I think it is for me," said my mother, and, 
 sure enough, it was addressed, in the most beau- 
 tiful writing, to Mrs. Mary Stone of Friar's Oak, 
 and there was a red seal the size of a half-crown 
 upon the outside of it, with a flying dragon in 
 the middle. 
 
 "Whom think you that it is from, Anson?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " I had hoped it was for me and from Lord 
 Nelson," answered my father. " It is time the 
 boy had his commission. But if it be for you 
 then it can not be from any one of much im- 
 portance." 
 
 " Can it not ! " she cried, pretending to be 
 
68 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 offended. " You will ask my pardon for that 
 speech, sir, for it is from no less a person than 
 Sir Charles Tregellis, my own brother." 
 
 My mother spoke with a hushed voice when 
 she mentioned this wonderful brother of hers, 
 and always had done so as long as I can re- 
 member, so that I had learned also to have a 
 subdued and reverent feeling when I heard his 
 name. And indeed it was no wonder, for that 
 name was never mentioned unless it were in 
 connection with something brilliant and extra- 
 ordinary. Once we heard that he was at Wind- 
 sor with the king. Often he was at Brighton 
 with the prince:. Sometimes it was as a sports- 
 man that his reputation reached us, as when his 
 Meteor, beat the Duke of Queensberry's Egham 
 at Newmarket, or when he brought Jim Belcher 
 up from Bristol and sprung him upon the Lon- 
 don Fancy. But usually it was as the friend of 
 the great, the arbiter of fashions, the king of 
 bucks and the best dressed man in town that 
 his reputation reached us. My father, however, 
 did not appear to be elated at my mother's tri- 
 umphant rejoinder. 
 
 "Ay, and what does he want?" asked he, 
 in no very amiable voice. 
 
 " I wrote to him, Anson, and told him that 
 Rodney was growing a man now, thinking that 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 69 
 
 since he had no wife or child of his own he 
 might be disposed to advance him." 
 
 " We can do very well without him," growled 
 my father. " He sheered off from us when the 
 weather was foul, and we have no need of him 
 now that the sun is shining." 
 
 " Nay, you misjudge him, Anson," said my 
 mother, warmly. " There is no one with a bet- 
 ter heart than Charles, but his own life moves 
 so smoothly that he can not understand that 
 others may have trouble. During all these 
 years I have known that I had but to say the 
 word to receive as much as I wished from him." 
 
 " Thank God that you never had to stoop to 
 it, Mary ! I want none of his help." 
 
 " But we must think of Rodney." 
 
 " Rodney has enough for his sea chest and 
 kit. He needs no more." 
 
 " But Charles has great power and influence 
 in London. He could make Rodney known to 
 all the great people. Surely you would not 
 stand in the way of his advancement." 
 
 " Let us hear what he says, then," said my 
 father, and this was the letter which she read 
 to him : 
 
 14 Jermyn St., St. James', Apiil i^, i8oj. 
 
 My Dear Sister Mary: In answer to your 
 letter I can assure you that you must not con- 
 
70 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ceive me to be wanting in those finer feelings 
 which are the chief adornment of humanity. It 
 is true that for some years, absorbed as I have 
 been in affairs of the highest importance, I have 
 seldom taken a pen in hand, for which I can 
 assure you that I have been reproached by many 
 des plus charmantes of your charming sex. At 
 the present moment I lie abed (having stayed 
 late in order to pay a compliment to the Mar- 
 chioness of Dover at her ball last night), and 
 this is writ to my dictation by Ambrose, my 
 clever rascal of a valet. I am interested to hear 
 of my nephew Rodney (mon Dieu, quel nom !), 
 and as I shall be on my way to visit the prince 
 at Brighton next week, I shall break my jour- 
 ney at Friar's Oak for the sake of seeing both 
 you and him. Make my compliments to your 
 husband. I am ever, my dear sister Mary, your 
 brother, Charles Tregellis. 
 
 "What do you think of that?" cried my 
 mother in triumph, when she had finished. 
 
 " I think it is the letter of a fop," said my 
 father, blunty. 
 
 " You are too hard on him, Anson. You will 
 think better of him when you know him. But he 
 says that he will be here next week, and this is 
 Thursday, and the best curtains unhung, and no 
 
THE PEACE OF AMIENS. 71 
 
 lavender in the sheets ! " Away she bustled, half 
 distracted, while my father sat moody, with his 
 chin upon his hands, and I remained lost in won- 
 der at the thought of this grand new relative from 
 London and of all that his coming might mean 
 to us. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 BUCK TREGELLIS. 
 
 Now that I was in my seventeenth year, and 
 had already some need for a razor, 1 had begun 
 to weary of the narrow life of the village, and to 
 long to see something of the great world beyond. 
 And the craving was all the stronger because I 
 durst not speak openly about it, for the least hint 
 of it brought the tears into my mother's eyes. 
 But now there was the less reason that I should 
 stay at home, since my father was at her side, and 
 so my mind was all filled by this prospect of my 
 uncle's visit, and of the chance that he might set 
 my feet moving at last upon the road of life. 
 
 As you may think it was toward my father's 
 
 profession that my thoughts and my hopes 
 
 turned, for from my childhood I have never seen 
 
 the heave of the sea or tasted the salt upon my 
 
 lips without feeling the blood of five generations 
 
 of seamen thrill within my veins. And think of 
 
 the challenge which was ever waving in those 
 
 72 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 73 
 
 days before the eyes of a coast-living lad ! I had 
 but to walk up to Wolstonbury in the war time 
 to see the sails of the French chasse-mar6es and 
 privateers. Again and again I have heard the 
 roar of the guns coming from far out over the 
 waters. Seamen would tell us how they had left 
 London and been engaged ere nightfall, or sailed 
 out of Portsmouth and been yardarm to yardarm 
 before they had lost sight of St. Helen's light. It 
 was this imminence of the danger which warmed 
 our hearts to our sailors, and made us talk round 
 the winter fires of our little Nelson and Cuddie 
 CoUingwood and Johnnie Jarvis, and the rest 
 of them, not as being great high admirals with 
 titles and dignities, but as good friends whom 
 we loved and honoured above all others. What 
 boy was there through the length and breadth 
 of Britain who did not long to be out with 
 them under the red cross flag! 
 
 But now that peace had come, and the fleets 
 which had swept the channel and the Mediter- 
 ranean were lying dismantled in our harbours, 
 there was less 'to draw one's fancy seaward. 
 It was London now of which I thought by day 
 and brooded by night, the huge city, the home 
 of the wise and the great, from which came 
 ■ this constant stream of carriages and those 
 crowds of dusty people who were forever flash- 
 
74 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ing past our window pane. It was this one side 
 of life which first presented itself to me, and 
 so as a boy 1 used to picture the city as a gi- 
 gantic stable with a huge huddle of coaches, 
 which were forever streaming ofE down the 
 country roads. But then Champion Harrison 
 told me how the fighting men lived there, and 
 my father how the heads of the navy lived there, 
 and my mother how her brother and his grand 
 friends were there, until at last I was consumed 
 with impatience to see this marvellous heart of 
 England. This coming of my uncle then was 
 the breaking of light through the darkness, 
 though I hardly dared to hope that he would 
 take me with him into those high circles in 
 which he lived. My mother, however, had such 
 confidence either in his good nature or in her 
 own powers of persuasion that she already be- 
 gan to make furtive preparations for my de- 
 parture. 
 
 But if the narrowness of the village life chafed 
 my easy spirit it was a torture to the keen and 
 ardent mind of Boy Jim. It was but a few days 
 after the coming of my uncle's letter that we 
 walked over the Downs together, and I had a 
 peep of the bitterness of his heart. 
 
 " What is there for me to do, Rodney ? " he 
 cried. " I forge a shoe and I fuller it, and I clip 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 75 
 
 it, and I calkin it, and I knock five holes in it, 
 and there it is finished. Then I do it again and 
 again, and blow up the bellows and feed the 
 forge, and rasp a hoof or two, and there it is 
 done, and every day the same as the other. Was 
 it for this only, do you think, that I was born 
 into the world ? " 
 
 I looked at him, his proud, eagle face, and his 
 tall, sinewy figure, and I wondered whether in 
 the whole land there was a finer, handsomer man. 
 
 " The army or the navy is the place for you, 
 Jim," said I. 
 
 " That is very well," he cried ; " if you go into 
 the navy, as you are likely to do, you go as an 
 officer, and it is you who do the ordering. If 
 I go in, it is as one who was born to receive 
 orders." 
 
 " An officer gets his orders from those above 
 him." 
 
 " But an officer does not have the lash hung 
 over his head. I saw a poor devil at the inn here 
 — it was some years ago — who showed us his 
 back in the taproom, slashed into red diamonds 
 with the boatswain's whip. ' Who ordered that? ' 
 I asked. ' The captain,' said he. ' And what 
 would you have had if you had struck him 
 dead?' said I. 
 
 " * The yardarm,' he answered. ' Then, if I 
 
76 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 had been you that's where I should have been,' 
 said I, and I spoke the truth. I can't help it, 
 Rod ! There's something here in my heart, 
 something that is as much a part of myself as this 
 hand is, which holds me to it." 
 
 " I know that you are as proud as Lucifer," 
 said I. 
 
 " It was born with me, Roddy, and I can't 
 help it. Life would be easier if I could. I was 
 made to be my own master, and there's only one 
 place where I can hope to be so." 
 
 " Where is that, Jim ? " 
 
 " In London. Miss Hinton has told me of it 
 until I feel as if I could find my way through it 
 from end to end. She loves to talk of it as well 
 as I do to listen. I have it all laid out in my 
 mind, and I can see where the playhouses are, 
 and how the river runs, and where the king's 
 house is, and the prince's, and the place where 
 the fighting men live. I could make my name 
 known in London." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Never mind how. Rod, I could do it, and I 
 will do it, too. ' Wait,' says my uncle, * wait, . 
 and it will all come right for you.' That is what 
 he always says, and my aunt the same. Why 
 should I wait? What am I to wait for? No, 
 Roddy, I'll stay no longer eating my heart out in 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 77 
 
 this little village, but I'll leave my apron behind 
 me and I'll seek my fortune in London, and when 
 I come back to Friar's Oak it will be in such style 
 as that gentleman yonder." 
 
 He pointed as he spoke, and there was a high 
 crimson curricle coming down the London road, 
 with two bay horses harnessed tandem fashion 
 before it. The reins and fittings were of a light 
 fawn-colour, and the gentleman had a driving 
 coat to match, with a servant in dark livery be- 
 hind. They flashed past us in a rolling cloud of 
 dust, and I had just a glimpse of the pale, hand- 
 some face of the master, and of the dark, shriv- 
 elled features of the man. I should never have 
 given them another thought had it not chanced 
 that when the village came into view there was 
 the curricle again standing at the door of the inn, 
 and the grooms busy taking out the horses. 
 
 " Jim," I cried, " I believe it is my uncle!" and 
 taking to my heels I ran for home at the top of 
 my speed. At the door was standing the dark- 
 faced servant. He carried a cushion upon which 
 lay a small fluffy lapdog. 
 
 " You will excuse me, young sir," said he, in 
 the suavest, most soothing of voices, " but am I 
 right in supposing that this is the house of Lieu- 
 tenant Stone ? In that case you will, perhaps, do 
 me the favour to hand to Mrs. Stone this note. 
 
78 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 which her brother, Sir Charles Tregellis, has just 
 committed to my care." 
 
 I was quite abashed by the man's flowery way 
 of talking, so unlike anything which I had ever 
 heard. He had a wizened face and sharp little 
 dark eyes which took in me and the house and 
 my mother's startled face at the window all in the 
 instant. My parents were together, the two of 
 them, in the sitting-room, and my mother read 
 the note to us. 
 
 " My dear Mary," it ran, " I have stopped at 
 the inn, because I am somewhat ravag6 by the 
 dust of your Sussex roads, A lavender-water 
 bath may restore me to a condition in which I 
 may fitly pay my compliments to a lady. Mean- 
 time I send you Fidelio as a hostage. Pray give 
 him a half-pint of warmish milk, with six drops of 
 pure brandy in it. A better or more faithful crea- 
 ture never lived. Toujours k toi, Charles." 
 
 " Have him in ! Have him in ! " cried my 
 father heartily, running to the door. " Come in, 
 Mr. Fidelio. Every man to his own taste, and six 
 drops to the half-pint seems a sinful watering of 
 grog, but if you like it, so you shall have it." 
 
 A smile flickered over the dark face of the 
 servant, but his features reset themselves in- 
 stantly into their usual mask of respectful observ- 
 ance. 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. ^p 
 
 " You are labouring under a slight error, sir, 
 if you will permit me to say so. My name is 
 Ambrose, and I have the honour to be the valet 
 of Sir Charles Tregellis. This is Fidelio upon the 
 cushion." 
 
 " Tut, the dog ! " cried my father in disgust. 
 " Heave him down by the fireside. Why should 
 he have brandy when many a Christian has to go 
 without?" 
 
 " Hush, Anson ! " said my mother, taking the 
 cushion. — " You will tell Sir Charles that his 
 wishes will be carried out, and that we shall ex- 
 pect him at his own convenience." 
 
 The man went off noiselessly and swiftly, 
 but was back in a few minutes with a flat brown 
 basket. 
 
 " It is the refection, madame," said he. " Will 
 you permit me to lay the table ? Sir Charles is 
 accustomed to partake of certain dishes and to 
 drink certain wines, so that we usually bring 
 them with us when we visit." He opened the 
 basket, and in a minute he had the table shining 
 with silver and glass and studded with dishes. 
 So quick and neat and silent was he in all that 
 he did that my father was as taken with him as 
 I was. 
 
 " You'd have made a right good foretopman, 
 if your heart is as stout as your fingers are quick," 
 
8o RODNEY STONE. 
 
 said he. " Did you never wish to have the hon- 
 our of serving your country ? " 
 
 " It is my honour, sir, to serve Sir Charles 
 Tregellis, and I desire no other master," he an- 
 swered. " But I will convey his dressing case 
 from the inn, and then all will be ready." 
 
 He came back with a great silver-mounted box 
 under his arm, and close at his heels was the gen- 
 tleman whose coming had made such a disturb- 
 ance. 
 
 My first impression of my uncle as he entered 
 the room was that one of his eyes was swollen to 
 the size of an apple. It took the breath from my 
 lips, that monstrous, glistening eye. But the next 
 instant I perceived that he held a round glass in 
 front of it, which magnified it in this fashion. He 
 looked at us each in turn, and then he bowed very 
 gracefully to my mother and kissed her upon 
 either cheek. 
 
 " You will permit me to compliment you, my 
 dear Mary," said he in a voice which was the 
 most mellow and beautiful that I have ever heard. 
 " I can assure you that the country air has used 
 you wondrous well, and that I should be proud 
 to see my pretty sister in the Mall. — I am your 
 servant, sir," he continued, holding out his hand 
 to my father. " It was but last week that I had 
 the honour of dining with my friend Lord St. 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 8 1 
 
 Vincent, and I took occasion to mention you to 
 him. I may tell you that your name is not for- 
 gotten at the admiralty, sir, and I hope that I 
 may see you soon walking the poop of a seven- 
 ty-four gunship of your own. — So this is my 
 nephew, is it ? " He put a hand upon each of 
 my shoulders in a very friendly way and looked 
 me up and down. 
 
 " How old are you, nephew ? " he asked. 
 
 "Seventeen, sir." 
 
 " You look older. You look eighteen at the 
 least. — I find him very passable, Mary — very 
 passable indeed. He has not the bel air, the 
 tournure — in our uncouth English we have no 
 word for it. But he is as healthy as a May 
 hedge in bloom." 
 
 So within a minute of his entering our door 
 he had got himself upon terms with all of us, 
 and with so easy and graceful a manner that it 
 seemed as if he had known us all for years. I 
 had a good look at him now as he stood upon 
 the. hearthrug with my mother upon one side and 
 my father on the other. He was a very large 
 man, with noble shoulders, small waist, broad 
 hips, well-turned legs, and the smallest of hands 
 and feet. His face was pale and handsome, with 
 a prominent chin, a jutting nose, and large blue, 
 staring eyes, in which a sort of dancing mis- 
 
82 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 chievous light was forever playing. He wore a 
 deep brown coat with a collar as high as his ears 
 and tails as low as his knees. His black breeches 
 and silk stockings ended in very small pointed 
 shoes, so highly polished that they twinkled with 
 every movement. His vest was of black velvet, 
 open at the top, to show an embroidered shirt 
 front, with a high, smooth white cravat above 
 it, which kept his neck forever on the stretch. 
 He stood easily with one thumb in his armpit, 
 and two fingers of the other hand in his vest 
 pocket. It made me proud as I watched him to 
 think that so magnificent a man should be my 
 own blood relation, and I could see from my 
 mother's eyes as they turned toward him that 
 the same thought was in her mind. 
 
 All this time Ambrose had been standing like 
 a dark-clothed, bronze-faced image by the door, 
 with the big silver-bound box under his arm. 
 He steppfed forward now into the room. 
 
 "Shall I convey it to your bedchamber, Sir 
 Charles ? " he asked. 
 
 "Ah, pardon me, sister Mary," cried my un- 
 cle. " I am old-fashioned enough to have prin- 
 ciples — an anachronism, I know, in this lax age. 
 One of them is never to allow my batterie de 
 toilette out of my sight when I am travelling. I 
 can not readily forget the agonies which I en- 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 83 
 
 dured some years ago through neglecting this 
 precaution. I will do Ambrose the justice to say- 
 that it was before he took charge of my affairs. 
 I was compelled to wear the same ruffles upon 
 two consecutive days ! On the third morning 
 my fellow was so affected by the sight of my con- 
 dition that he burst into tears and laid out a pair 
 which he had stolen from me." 
 
 As he spoke his face was very grave, but the 
 light in his eyes danced and gleamed. He 
 handed his open snuffbox to my father as Am- 
 brose followed my mother out of the room. 
 
 "You number yourself in an illustrious com- 
 pany by dipping your finger and thumb into it," 
 said he. 
 
 " Indeed, sir ! " said my father. 
 
 " You are free of my box as being a relative 
 by marriage. You are free also, nephew, and I 
 pray you to take a pinch. It is the most intimate 
 sign of my good will. Outside ourselves there 
 are four, I think, who have had access to it — the 
 prince, of course, Mr. Pitt, Monsieur Otto, the 
 French ambassador, and Lord Hawkesbury. I 
 have sometimes thought that I was premature 
 with Lord Hawkesbury." 
 
 " I am vastly honoured, sir," said my father, 
 looking suspiciously at his guest from under his 
 shaggy eyebrows, for with that grave face and 
 
84 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 those twinkling eyes it was hard to know how to 
 take him. 
 
 " A woman, sir, has her love to bestow," said 
 my uncle. " A man has his snuffbox. Neither is 
 to be lightly offered. It is a lapse of taste ; nay, 
 more, it is a breach of morals. Only the other 
 day as I was seated in Watier's, my box of prime 
 Macouba open upon the table beside me, an Irish 
 bishop thrust in his intrusive fingers. ' Waiter,' 
 I cried, ' my box has been soiled ! Remove it ! ' 
 The man meant no insult, you understand, but that 
 class of people must be kept in their proper 
 sphere." 
 
 " A bishop ! " cried my father. " You draw 
 your line very high, sir." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said my uncle. " I wish no better 
 epitaph upon my tombstone." 
 
 My mother had in the meantime descended, 
 and we all drew up to the table. 
 
 "You will excuse my apparent grossness, 
 Mary, in venturing to bring my own larder with 
 me. Abernethy has me under his orders, and I 
 must eschew your rich country dainties. A little 
 white wine and a cold quail — it is as much as the 
 niggardly Scotchman will allow me." 
 
 " We should have you on blockading service 
 when the levanters are blowing," said my father. 
 " Salt junk and weevily biscuits, with a rib of a 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 
 
 85 
 
 tough Barbary ox when the tenders come in. 
 You would have your spare diet there, sir." 
 
 Straightway my uncle began to question him 
 about the sea service, and for the whole meal my 
 father was telling him of the Nile and of the Tou- 
 lon blockade, and the siege of Genoa and all that 
 he had seen and done. But whenever he faltered 
 for a word my uncle always had it ready for him, 
 and it was hard to say which knew most about 
 the business. 
 
 " No, I read little or nothing," said he, when 
 my father marvelled where he got his knowledge. 
 " The fact is that I can hardly pick up a print 
 without seeing some allusion to myself, ' Sir C — s 
 T — s does this,' or ' Sir C — s T — s says the other,' 
 so I take them no longer. But if a man is in my 
 position all knowledge comes to him. The Duke 
 of York tells me of the army in the morning, and 
 Lord Spencer chats with me of the navy in the 
 afternoon, and Dundas whispers me what is going 
 forward in the cabinet, so that I have little need 
 of the Times or the Morning Chronicle." 
 
 This set him talking of the great world of 
 London, telling my father about the men who 
 were his masters at the admiralty, and my mother 
 about the beauties of the town and the great ladies 
 at Almack's, but all in the same light, fanciful 
 way, so that one never knew whether to laugh or 
 
86 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 to take him gravely. I think it flattered him to 
 see the way in which we all three hung upon his 
 words. Of some he thought highly and of some 
 lowly, but he made no secret that the highest 
 of all and the one against whom all others 
 should be measured was Sir Charles Tregellis 
 himself. 
 
 " As to the king," said he, " of course, I am 
 I'ami de faraille there, and even with you I can 
 scarce speak freely, as my relations are confiden- 
 tial." 
 
 " God bless him and keep him from ill ! " cried 
 my father. 
 
 " It is pleasant to hear you say so," said my 
 uncle. " One has to come into the country to 
 hear honest loyalty, for a sneer and a gibe are 
 more the fashions in town. The king is grateful 
 to me for the interest which I have ever shown 
 in his son. He likes to think that the prince has 
 a man of taste in his circle." 
 
 " And the prince ? " asked my mother, " is he 
 well favoured ? " 
 
 " He is a fine figure of a man. At a distance 
 he has been mistaken for me. And he has some 
 taste in dress, though he gets slovenly if I am too 
 long away from him. I warrant you that I find 
 a crease in his coat to-morrow." 
 
 We were all seated round the fire by this time, 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 8/ 
 
 for the evening had turned chilly. The lamp was 
 lighted and so also was my father's pipe. 
 
 " I suppose," said he, " that this is your first 
 visit to Friar's Oak." 
 
 My uncle's face turned suddenly very grave 
 and stern. 
 
 " It is my first visit for many years," said he. 
 " I was but one and twenty years of age when 
 last I came here. I am not likely to forget it." 
 
 I knew that he spoke of his visit to Cliffe 
 Royal at the time of the murder, and I saw by 
 her face that my mother knew it also. My father, 
 however, had either never heard of it, or had for- 
 gotten the circumstance. 
 
 " Was it at the inn you staid ? " he asked. 
 
 " I staid with the unfortunate Lord Avon. 
 It was the time when he was accused of slaying 
 his younger brother and fled from the country." 
 
 We all fell silent, and my uncle leaned his chin 
 upon upon his hand, looking thoughtfully into 
 the fire. If I do but close my eyes now I can see 
 the light upon his proud, handsome face, and see 
 also my dear father, concerned at having touched 
 upon so terrible a memory, shooting little anxious 
 glances at him between the puffs of his pipe. 
 
 " I dare say that it has happened with you, 
 sir," said my uncle at last ; " that you have lost 
 some dear messmate in battle or wreck, and that 
 7 
 
88 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 you have put him out of your mind in the routine 
 of your daily life, until suddenly some word or 
 some scene brings him back to your memory, and 
 you find your sorrow as raw as upon the first day 
 of your loss." 
 
 My father nodded. 
 
 " So it was with me to-night. I never formed 
 a close friendship with a man — I say nothing of 
 women — save only the once. That was with 
 Lord Avon. We were of an age, he a few years 
 perhaps my senior, but our tastes, our judgments, 
 and our character were alike, save only that he 
 had in him a touch of pride such as I have never 
 known in any other man. Putting aside the little 
 foibles of a rich young man of fashion, les indis- 
 cretions d'une jeunesse dor6e, I could have sworn 
 that he was as good a man as I have ever 
 known." 
 
 " How came he then to such a crime ? " asked 
 my father. 
 
 My uncle shook his head. " Many a time have 
 I asked myself that question, and it comes more 
 home to me to-night than ever." All the jaunti- 
 ness had gone out of his manner, and he had 
 turned suddenly into a sad and serious man. 
 
 " "Was it certain that he did it, Charles ? " 
 asked my mother. 
 
 My uncle shrugged his shoulders. " I wish I 
 
" 1 find him very passable, Mary. 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 89 
 
 could think it were not so. I have thought some- 
 times that it was this very pride, turning sudden- 
 ly to madness, which drove him to it. You have 
 heard how he returned the money which we had 
 lost?" 
 
 " Nay, I have heard nothing of it," my father 
 answered. 
 
 " It is a very old story now, though we have 
 not yet found an end to it. We had played for 
 two days, the four of us, Lord Avon, his brother 
 Captain Barrington, Sir Lothian Hume, and my- 
 self. Of the captain I knew little, save that he 
 was not of the best repute, and was deep in the 
 hands of the Jews. Sir Lothian has made an evil 
 name for himself since — 'tis the same Sir. Lothian 
 who shot Lord Carton in the affair at Chalk farm 
 — but in those days there was nothing against 
 him. The oldest of us was but twenty-four, and 
 we gamed on, as I say, until the captain had 
 cleared the board. We were all hit, but our host 
 far the hardest. 
 
 "That night — I tell you now what it would be 
 a bitter thing for me to tell in a court of law — I 
 was restless and sleepless, as often happens when 
 a man has kept awake over long. My mind 
 would dwell upon the fall of the cards, and I was 
 tossing and turning in my bed, when suddenly a 
 cry fell upon my ears, and then a second louder 
 
90 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 one coming from the direction of Captain Bar- 
 rington's room. Five minutes later I heard steps 
 passing down the passage, and, without striking 
 a light, I opened my door and peeped out, think- 
 ing that some one was taken unwell. There was 
 Lord Avon walking toward me. In one hand he 
 held a guttering candle, and in the other a brown 
 bag, which chinked as he moved. His face was 
 all drawn and distorted — so much so that my 
 question was frozen upon my lips. Before I 
 could utter it he turned into his chamber and 
 softly closed the door. 
 
 " Next morning I was awakened by finding 
 him at my bedside. ' Charles,' said he, ' I can not 
 bear to think that you should have lost this 
 money in my house. You will find it here upon 
 your table.' 
 
 " It was in vain that I laughed at his squeam- 
 ishness, telling him that I should most certainly 
 have claimed my money had I won, so that it 
 would be strange, indeed, if I were not permitted 
 to pay it when I lost. 
 
 " ' Neither I nor my brother will touch it,' 
 said he. ' There it lies and you may do what you 
 like about it.' He would listen to no argument 
 but dashed out of the room like a madman. But 
 perhaps these details are familiar to you, and 
 God knows they are painful to me to tell ! " 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 9 1 
 
 My father was sitting with staring eyes and 
 his forgotten pipe reeking in his hand. 
 
 " Pray let us hear the end of it, sir ! " he cried. 
 
 "Well, then, I had finished my toilet in an 
 hour or so — for I was less exigeant in those days 
 than now — and I met Sir Lothian Hume at break- 
 fast. His experience had been the same as my 
 own, and he was eager to see Captain Barrington, 
 and to ascertain why he had directed his brother 
 to return the money to us. We were talking the 
 matter over, when suddenly I raised my eyes to 
 the corner of the ceiling, and I saw — I saw " 
 
 My uncle had turned quite pale with the 
 vividness of the memory, and he passed his hand 
 over his eyes. 
 
 " It was crimson," said he, with a shudder. 
 " Crimson, with black cracks, and from every 
 crack — but I will give you dreams, sister Mary. 
 SuflEce it that we rushed up the stair which led 
 direct to the captain's room, and there we found 
 him lying, with the bone gleaming white through 
 his throat. A hunting knife lay in the room — and 
 the knife was Lord Avon's. A lace ruffle was 
 found in the dead man's grasp — and the ruffle 
 was Lord Avon's. Some papers were found 
 charred in the grate — and the papers were Lord 
 Avon's. O my poor friend, in what moment of 
 madness did you come to do such a deed ! " 
 
92 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 The light had gone out of my uncle's eyes, 
 and the extravagance from his manner. His 
 speech was clear and plain, with none of those 
 strange London ways which had so amazed me. 
 Here was a second uncle, a man of heart and a 
 man of brains, and I liked him better than the 
 first. 
 
 " And what said Lord Avon ? " cried my 
 father. 
 
 " He said nothing. He went about like one 
 who walks in his sleep, with horror-stricken eyes. 
 None dared arrest him until there should be due 
 inquiry, but when the coroner's court brought 
 wilful murder against him the constables came 
 for him in full cry. But they found him fled. 
 There was a rumour that he had been seen in 
 Westminster in the next week, and then that he 
 had escaped for America, but nothing more is 
 known. It will be a bright day for Sir Lothian 
 Hume when they can prove him dead, for he is 
 next of kin, and till then he can touch neither title 
 nor estate." 
 
 The telling of this grim story had cast a chill 
 upon all of us. My uncle held out his hands 
 toward the blaze, and I noticed that they were as 
 white as the ruffles which fringed them. 
 
 " I know not how things are at Cliffe Royal 
 now," said he thoughtfully. " It was not a cheery 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 
 
 93 
 
 house, even before this shadow fell upon it. A 
 fitter stage was never set forth for such a tragedy. 
 But seventeen years have passed, and perhaps 
 even that horrible ceiling " 
 
 " It still bears the stain," said I. 
 
 I know not which of the three was the more 
 astonished, for my mother had not heard of my 
 adventures of the night. They never took their 
 wondering eyes off me as I told my story, and 
 my heart swelled with pride when my uncle said 
 that we had carried ourselves well, and that he 
 did not think that many of our age would have 
 stood to it as stoutly. 
 
 " But as to this ghost, it must have been the 
 creature of your own minds," said he. " Imagi- 
 nation plays us strange tricks, and though I have 
 as steady a nerve as a man might wish, I can not 
 answer for what I might see if I were to stand 
 under that blood-soaked ceiling at midnight." 
 
 " Uncle," said I, " I saw a figure as plainly as 
 I see that fire, and I heard the steps as clearly as 
 I hear the crackle of the faggots. Besides, we 
 could not both be deceived." 
 
 " There is truth in that," said he thoughtfully. 
 " You saw no features, you say ? " 
 
 " It was too dark." 
 
 " But only a figure ? " 
 
 " The dark outline of one." 
 
Q4 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 "And it retreated up the stair?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And vanished into the wall ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "At what part of the wall?" cried a voice 
 from behind us. 
 
 My mother screanied, and down came my 
 father's pipe on to the hearthrug. I had sprung 
 round with a catch of my breath, and there was 
 the valet Ambrose, his body in the shadow of the 
 doorway, his dark face protruded into the light, 
 and two burning eyes fixed upon mine. 
 
 " What the devil is the meaning of this, sir ? " 
 cried ray uncle. 
 
 It was strange to see the gleam and passion 
 fade out of the man's face, and the demure mask 
 of the valet replace it. His eyes still smouldered, 
 but his features regained their prim composure 
 in an instant. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Sir Charles," said he. 
 " I had come in to ask you if you had any orders 
 for me, and I did not like to interrupt the young 
 gentleman's story. I am afraid that I have been 
 somewhat carried away by it." 
 
 " I never knew you to forget yourself before," 
 said my uncle. 
 
 " You will, I'm sure, forgive me. Sir Charles, 
 if you will call to mind the relation in which I 
 
BUCK TREGELLIS. 95 
 
 stood to Lord Avon." He spoke with some dig- 
 nity of manner, and, with a bow, he left the room. 
 " We must make some little allowance," said 
 my uncle, with a sudden return to his jaunty 
 manner. " When a man can brew a dish of 
 chocolate or tie a cravat as Ambrose does he 
 may claim consideration. The fact is that the 
 poor fellow was valet to Lord Avon, that he was 
 at Cliffe Royal upon the fatal night of which I 
 have spoken, and that he is most devoted to his 
 old master. But my talk has been somewhat 
 triste, sister Mary, and now we shall return, if 
 you please, to the dresses of the Countess Lieven 
 and the gossip of St. James." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FIRST JOURNEY. 
 
 My father sent me to bed early that night, 
 though I was very eager to stay up, for every 
 word which this man said held my attention. 
 His face, his manner, the large waves and sweeps 
 of his white hands, his easy air of superiority, his 
 fantastic fashion of talk, all filled me with interest 
 and wonder. But, as I afterward learned, this 
 conversation was to be about myself, and my 
 own prospects, so I was despatched to my room, 
 whence far into the night I. could hear the deep 
 growl of my father and the rich tones of my 
 uncle, with an occasional gentle murmur from my 
 mother, as they talked in the room beneath. 
 
 I had dropped asleep at last, when I was 
 
 awakened suddenly by something wet being 
 
 pressed against my face, and by two warm arms, 
 
 which were cast round me. My mother's cheek 
 
 was against my own, and I could hear the click 
 
 of her sobs, and feel her quiver and shake in the 
 
 96 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. 97 
 
 darkness. A faint light stole through the latticed 
 window, and I could dimly see that she was in 
 white, with her black hair loose upon her shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 "You won't forget us, Roddy? You won't 
 
 forget us ? " 
 
 " Why, mother, what is it? " 
 
 "Your uncle, Roddy. He is going to take 
 you away from us." 
 
 "When, mother?" 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 God forgive me, how my heart bounded for 
 joy, when hers, which was within touch of it, was 
 breaking with sorrow ! 
 
 " O mother ! " I cried. " To London? " 
 
 " First to Brighton, that he may present you 
 to the prince. Next day to London, where you 
 will meet the great people, Roddy, and learn to 
 look down upon — to look down upon your poor, 
 simple, old-fashioned father and mother." 
 
 I put my arms about her to console her, but 
 she wept so that for all of my seventeen years it 
 set me weeping also, and with such a hiccough- 
 ing noise, since I had not a woman's knack of 
 quiet tears, that it finally turned her own grief to 
 laughter. 
 
 " Charles would be flattered if he could see 
 the gracious way in which we receive his kind- 
 
q8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ness," said she. " Be still, Roddy dear, or you 
 will certainly wake him." 
 
 " I'll not go if it is to grieve you," I cried. 
 
 " Nay, dear, you must go, for it may be the 
 one great chance of your life. And think how 
 proud it will make us all when we hear of you in 
 the company of Charles's grand friends. But you 
 will promise me not to gamble, Roddy? You 
 heard to-night of the dreadful things which come 
 from it." 
 
 " I promise you, mother." 
 
 " And you will be careful of wine, Roddy ? 
 You are young and unused to it." 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " And play actresses, also, Roddy. And you 
 will not cast your underclothing until June is 
 in. Young Master Overton came by his death 
 through it. Think well of your dress, Roddy, so 
 as to do your uncle credit, for it is the thing for 
 which he is himself most famed. You have but 
 to do what he will direct. But if there is a time 
 when you are not meeting grand people you can 
 wear out your country things, for your brown 
 coat is as good as new, and the blue one, if it 
 were ironed and refined, would take you through 
 the summer. I have put out your Sunday clothes 
 with the nankeen vest, since you are to see the 
 prince to-morrow, and you will wear your, brown 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. gg 
 
 silk stockings and buckle shoes. Be guarded in 
 crossing the London streets, for I am told that 
 the hackney coaches are past all imagining. 
 Fold your clothes when you go to bed, Roddy, 
 and do not forget your evening prayers, for oh, 
 my dear boy, the days of temptation are at hand, 
 when I will no longer be with you to help you." 
 So with advice and guidance both for this world 
 and the next did my mother with her soft warm 
 arms around me prepare me for the great step 
 which lay before me. 
 
 My uncle did not appear at breakfast in the 
 morning, but Ambrose brewed him a dish of 
 chocolate and took it to his room. When at last, 
 about mid-day, he did descend, he was so fine, 
 with his curled hair, his shining teeth, his quiz- 
 zing glass, his snow-white ruffles and his laugh- 
 ing eyes, that I could not take my gaze from him. 
 
 " Well, nephew," he cried, " what do you 
 think of the prospect of coming to town with 
 me?" 
 
 " I thank you, sir, for the kind interest which 
 you take in me," said I. 
 
 " But you must be a credit to me, Rodney. 
 My nephew must be of the best if he is to be in 
 keeping with the rest of me." 
 
 " You'll find him a chip of good wood, sir," 
 said my father. 
 
lOO RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " We must make him a polished chip before 
 we have done with him. Your aim, my dear 
 nephew, must always be to be in bon ton. It 
 is not a case of wealth, you understand. Mere 
 riches can not do it. Golden Price has forty 
 thousand pounds a year, but his clothes are dis- 
 astrous. I assure you that I saw him come down 
 St. James Street the other day, and I was so 
 shocked at his appearance that I had to step into 
 Vernet's for a glass of orange brandy. No, 'tis a 
 question of natural taste, and of following the ad- 
 vice and example of those who are more experi- 
 enced than yourself." 
 
 " I fear, Charles, that Roddy's wardrobe is 
 country-made," said my mother. 
 
 " We shall soon set that right when we get to 
 town ; we shall see what Stultz or Weston can do 
 for him," my uncle answered. " We must keep 
 him en retraite until he has some clothes to wear." 
 
 This slight upon my best Sunday suit brought 
 a flush to my mother's cheeks, which my uncle 
 instantly observed, for he was quick in noticing 
 trifles. 
 
 " The clothes are very well for Friar's Oak, 
 sister Mary," said he. "And yet you can under- 
 stand that they might seem rococo in the Mall. 
 If you leave him in my hands I shall see to the 
 matter." 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. loi 
 
 " On how much, sir," asked my father, " can a 
 young man dress in town ? " 
 
 "With prudence and reasonable care a young 
 man of fashion can dress upon eight hundred 
 pounds a year," my uncle answered. 
 
 I saw my poor father's face grow longer. 
 
 " I fear, sir, that Roddy must keep his coun- 
 try clothes," said he. " Even with my prize 
 money " 
 
 " Tut, sir ! " cried my uncle. " I already owe 
 Weston something over a thousand, so how can a 
 few odd hundreds affect it? If my nephew comes 
 with me, my nephew is my care. The point is 
 settled, and I must refuse to argue upon it." He 
 waved his white hands as if to brush aside all 
 opposition. 
 
 My parents tried to thank him, but he cut 
 them short. 
 
 " By the way, now that I am in Friar's Oak, 
 there is another small piece of business which I 
 have to perform," said he. " I believe that there 
 is a fighting man named Harrison here, who at 
 one time might have held the championship. In 
 those days poor Avon and I were his principal 
 backers. I should like to have a word with him." 
 
 You may think how proud I was to walk 
 down the village street with my magnificent rela- 
 tive, and to note out of the corner of my eye how 
 
I02 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 the folk came to the doors and windows to see us 
 pass. Champion Harrison was standing outside 
 the smithy, and he pulled his cap oS when he 
 saw my uncle. 
 
 "God bless me, sir! Who'd ha' thought of 
 seeing you at Friar's. Oak? Why, Sir Charles, it 
 brings old memories back to look at your face 
 again." 
 
 " Glad to see you looking so fit, Harrison," 
 said my uncle, running his eyes over him. 
 " Why, with a month's training you would be as 
 good a man as ever. I don't suppose you scale 
 more than thirteen and a half." 
 
 " Thirteen ten, Sir Charles. I'm in my forty- 
 first year, but I am sound in wind and limb, and 
 if my old woman would have let me off my prom- 
 ise I'd ha' had a try with some of these young 
 ones before now. I hear that they've got some 
 amazin' good stuff up from Bristol of late." 
 
 " Yes, the Bristol yellow man has been the 
 winning colour of late. — How d'ye do, Mrs. Har- 
 rison ? I don't suppose you remember me." 
 
 She had come out from the house, and I no- 
 ticed that her worn face — on which some past 
 terror seemed to have left its shadow — hardened 
 into stern lines as she looked at my uncle. , 
 
 " I remember you too well. Sir Charles Tre- 
 gellis," said she. " I trust that you have not 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. 103 
 
 come here to-day to try to draw my husband 
 back into the ways that he has forsaken." 
 
 " That's the way with her, Sir Charles," said 
 the champion, resting his great hand upon the 
 woman's shoulder. " She's got my promise, and 
 she holds me to it ! There was never a better 
 nor a harder-working wife, but she ain't what 
 you'd call a patron of sport, and that's a fact." 
 
 " Sport ! " cried the woman, bitterly. " A fine 
 sport for you. Sir Charles, with your pleasant 
 twenty-mile drive into the country, and your 
 luncheon basket and your wines, and so merrily 
 back to London in the cool of the evening, with 
 a well-fought battle to talk over. Think of the 
 sport that it was to me to sit through the long 
 hours listening for the wheels of the chaise which 
 would bring my man back to me. Sometimes he 
 could walk in, and sometimes he was led in, and 
 sometimes he was carried in, and it was only by 
 his clothes that I could know him " 
 
 " Come, wife," said the champion, patting her 
 on the shoulders, " I've been cut up in my time, 
 but never so bad as that." 
 
 "And then to live for weeks afterward with 
 the fear that every knock at the door may be to 
 tell us that the other is dead, and that my man 
 may have to stand in the dock and take his trial 
 for murder ! " 
 
 8 
 
I04 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " No, she hasn't got a sportin' drop in her 
 veins," said Harrison. "She'd never make a 
 patron, never ! It's Black Baruk's business that 
 did it, when we thought he'd napped it once too 
 often. Well, she has my promise, and I'll never 
 sling my hat over the ropes again unless she gives 
 me leave." 
 
 " You'll keep your hat on your head like an 
 honest, God-fearing man, John," said his wife, 
 turning back into the house. 
 
 " I wouldn't for the world say anything to 
 make you change your resolution," said my 
 uncle. " At the same time, if you had wished to 
 take a turn at the old sport, I had a good thing 
 to put in your way." 
 
 " Well, it's no use, sir," said the smithy, " but 
 I'd be glad to hear about it all the same." 
 
 " They have a very good bit of stuff at thir- 
 teen stone down Gloucester way. Wilson is his 
 name, and they call him Crab on account of his 
 style." 
 
 Harrison shook his head. " Never heard of 
 him, sir." 
 
 " Very likely not, for he has never shown in 
 the P. R. But they think great things of him in 
 the west, and he can hold his own with either of 
 the Belchers with the mufflers."" 
 
 " Sparrin' ain't fightin'," said the champion. 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. 105 
 
 " I am told that he had the best of it in a by 
 battle with Noah James, of Cheshire." 
 
 " There's no gamer man on the list, sir, than 
 Noah James, the guardsman," said Harrison. " I 
 saw him myself fight fifty rounds after his jaw 
 had been cracked in three places. If Wilson 
 could beat him, Wilson will go far." 
 
 " So they think in the west, and they mean to 
 spring him on the London talent. Sir Lothian 
 Hume is his patron, and, to make a long story 
 short, he lays me odds that I won't find a young 
 one of his weight to meet him. I told him that I 
 had not heard of any good young ones, but that 
 I had an old one who had not put his foot into a 
 ring for many years, who would make his man 
 wish he had never come to London. ' Young or 
 old, under twenty or over thirty-five, you may 
 bring whom you will at the weight, and I shall 
 lay two to one on Wilson,' said he. I took him 
 in thousands, and here I am." 
 
 "It won't do. Sir Charles," said the smith, 
 shaking his head. " There's nothing would please 
 me better, but you heard for yourself." 
 
 " Well, if you won't fight, Harrison, I must 
 try to get some younger colt. I'd be glad of 
 your advice in the matter. By the way, I take 
 the chair at a supper of the Fancy at the Waggon 
 and Horses in St. Martin's Lane next Friday. I 
 
I06 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 should be very glad if you would make one of 
 my guests. — Hullo! who's this?" Up flew his 
 glass to his eye. 
 
 Boy Jim had come out from the forge with 
 his hammer in his hand. He had, I remember, a 
 gray flannel shirt, which was open at the neck 
 and turned up at the sleeves. My uncle ran his 
 eyes over the fine lines of his magnificent figure 
 with the glance of a connoisseur. 
 
 " That's my nephew, Sir Charles." 
 
 "Is he living with you?" 
 
 " His parents are dead." 
 
 " Has he ever been in London?" 
 
 " No, Sir Charles. He's been with me here 
 since he was as high as that hammer." 
 
 My uncle turned to Boy Jim. 
 
 " I hear that you have never been in London," 
 said he. " Your uncle is coming up to a supper 
 which I am giving to the fancy next Friday. 
 Would you care to make one of us?" 
 
 Boy Jim's dark eyes sparkled with pleasure. 
 
 " I should be glad to come, sir." 
 
 " No, no, Jim," cried the smith abruptly. " I'm 
 sorry to gainsay you, lad, but there are reasons 
 why I'd rather you staid down here with your 
 aunt." 
 
 " Tut, Harrison, let the lad come ! " cried my 
 uncle. 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. 107 
 
 "No, no, Sir Charles. It's dangerous com- 
 pany for a lad of his mettle. There's plenty for 
 him to do when I'm away." 
 
 Poor Jim turned away with a clouded brow 
 and strode into the smithy again. For my part, 
 I slipped after him to try to console him, and to 
 tell him all the wonderful changes which had 
 come so suddenly into my life. But I had not 
 got half through my story, and Jim, like the good 
 fellow that he was, had just begun to forget his 
 own troubles in his delight at my good fortune, 
 when my uncle called to me from without. The 
 curricle with its tandem mares was waiting for us 
 outside the cottage, and Ambrose had placed the 
 refection basket, the lapdog, and the precious 
 toilet box inside of it. He had himself climbed 
 up behind, and I, after a hearty handshake from 
 my father and a last sobbing embrace from my 
 mother,- took my place beside my uncle. " Let 
 go her head," cried he to the hostler, and with a 
 snap, a crack, and a jingle, away we went upon 
 our journey. 
 
 Across all the years how clearly I can see that 
 spring day with the green English fields, the 
 windy English sky, and the yellow beetle-browed 
 cottage in which I had grown from a child to a 
 man ! I see, too, the figures at the garden gate, 
 my mother with her face turned away and her 
 
I08 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 handkerchief waving, my father with his blue 
 coat and his white shorts leaning upon his stick 
 with his hand shading his eyes as he peered after 
 us. All the village was out to see young Roddy 
 Stone go off with his grand relative from London 
 to call upon the prince in his own palace. The 
 Harrisons were waving to me from the smith}^ 
 and John Cummings from the steps of the inn, 
 and I saw Joshua Allen, my old schoolmaster, 
 pointing me out to the people, as if he were 
 showing what came from his teaching. To make 
 it complete, who should drive past just as we 
 cleared the village but Miss Hinton, the play- 
 actress, the pony and phaeton, the same as when 
 first I saw her, but she herself another woman, 
 and I thought to myself that if Boy Jim had done 
 nothing but that one thing he need not think that 
 his youth had been wasted in the country. 
 
 She was driving to see him, I have no doubt, 
 for they were closer than ever, and she never 
 looked up nor saw the hand that I waved to her. 
 So as we took the curve of the road the little vil- 
 lage vanished, and there in the dip of the Downs, 
 past the spires of Patchem and of Preston, lay the 
 broad, blue sea and the gray houses of Brighton, 
 with the strange eastern domes and minarets of 
 the prince's pavilion shooting out from the centre 
 of it. To every traveller it was a sight of beauty 
 
THE FIRST JOURNEY. 109 
 
 but to me it was the world, the great, wide, free 
 world, and my heart thrilled and fluttered as the 
 young bird's may when it first hears the whirr 
 of its own flight and skims along with the blue 
 heaven above it and the green fields beneath. 
 The day may come when it may look back re- 
 gretfully to the snug nest in the thorn brush ; but 
 what does it reck of that when spring is in the 
 air and youth in its blood, and the old hawk of 
 trouble has not yet darkened the sunshine with 
 the ill-boding shadow of its wings ! 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 My uncle drove for some time in silence, but I 
 was conscious that his eye was always coming 
 round to me, and I had an uneasy conviction that 
 he was already beginning to ask himself whether 
 he could make anything of me, or whether he 
 had been betrayed into an indiscretion when he 
 had allowed his sister to persuade him to show 
 her son something of the grand world in which 
 he lived. 
 
 " You sing, don't you, nephew ? " he asked, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Yes, sir, a little." 
 
 " A barytone, I should fancy ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And your mother tells me that you play the 
 fiddle. These things will be of service to you 
 with the prince. Music runs in his family. Your 
 education has been what you could get at a vil- 
 lage school. Well, you are not examined in 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. m 
 
 Greek roots in polite society, which is lucky for 
 some of us. It is just as well to have a tag or 
 two of Horace, or Virgil, ' Subtegmine fagi,' or 
 ' habet foenutn in cornu,' which gives a flavour to 
 one's conversation, like the touch of garlic in a 
 salad. It is not bon ton to be learned, but it is a 
 graceful thing to indicate that you have forgotten 
 a good deal. Can you write verse ? " 
 
 " I fear not, sir." 
 
 " A small book of rhymes may be had for half 
 a crown. Vers de soci6t6 are a great assistance 
 to a young man. If you have the ladies on your 
 side it does not matter whom you have against 
 you. You must learn to open a door, to enter a 
 room, to present a snuffbox, raising the lid with 
 the forefinger of the hand in which you hold it. 
 You must acquire the bow for a man, with its 
 necessary touch of dignity, and that for a lady, 
 which can not be too humble, and should still 
 contain the least suspicion of abandon. You 
 must cultivate a manner with women which shall 
 be deprecating and yet audacious. Have you 
 any eccentricity ? " 
 
 It made me laugh, the easy way in which he 
 asked the question, as if it were a most natural 
 thing to possess. 
 
 "You have a pleasant catching laugh at all 
 events," said he, " but an eccentricity is very bon 
 
112 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ton at present, and if you feel any leaning toward 
 one, I should certainly advise you to let it run its 
 course. Peterham would have remained a mere 
 peer all his life had it not come out that he had 
 a snuffbox for every day in the year, and that he 
 had caught cold through a mistake of his valet, 
 who sent him out on a bitter winter day with a 
 thin Sevres china box instead of a thick tortoise- 
 shell. That brought him out of the ruck, you 
 see, and people remember him. Even some small 
 characteristic, such as having an apricot tart on 
 your sideboard all the year round, or putting 
 your candle out at night by stuffing it under your 
 pillow, serves to separate you from your neigh- 
 bour. In my own case it is my precise judgment 
 upon matters of dress and decorum which has 
 placed me where I am. I do not profess to follow 
 a law. I set one. For example, I am taking you 
 to-day to see the prince in a nankeen vest. What 
 do you think will be the consequence of that ? " 
 
 My fears told me that it might be my own 
 very great discomfiture, but I did not say so. 
 
 " Why, the night coach will carry the news to 
 London. It will be in Brookes's and White's to- 
 morrow morning. Within a week St. James 
 Street and the Mall will be full of nankeen waist- 
 coats. A most painful incident happened to me 
 once. My cravat came undone ift the street, and 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 113 
 
 I actually walked from Carlton House to Watier's 
 in Bruton Street with the two ends hanging 
 loose. Do you suppose it shook my position? 
 The same evening there were dozens of young 
 bloods walking the streets of London with their 
 cravats loose. If I had not rearranged mine 
 there would not be one tied in the whole king- 
 dom now, and a great art would have been 
 prematurely lost. You have not yet begun to 
 practise it." 
 
 I confessed that I had not. 
 
 " You should begin now in your youth. I will 
 myself teach you the coup d'archet. By using a 
 few hours in each day, which would otherwise be 
 wasted, you may hope to have excellent cravats 
 in middle life. The whole knack lies in pointing 
 your chin to the sky, and then arranging your 
 folds by the gradual descent of your lower jaw." 
 
 When my uncle spoke like this there was al- 
 ways that dancing, mischievous light in his large 
 blue eyes which showed me that this humour of 
 his was a conscious eccentricity, depending, as I 
 believe, upon a natural fastidiousness of taste, but 
 wilfully driven to grotesque lengths for the very 
 reason which made him recommend me also to 
 develop some peculiarity of my own. When I 
 thought of the way in which he had spoken of his 
 unhappy friend Lord Avon, upon the evening 
 
114 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 before, and of the emotion which he showed as 
 he told the horrible story, I was glad to think 
 that there was the heart of a man there, however 
 much it might please him to conceal it. 
 
 And, as it happened, I was very soon to have 
 another peep at it, for a most unexpected event 
 befell us as we drew up in front of the Crown 
 Hotel. A swarm of ostlers and grooms had 
 rushed out to us, and my uncle, throwing down 
 the reins, gathered Fidelio on his cushion from 
 under the seat. 
 
 " Ambrose," he cried, " you may take Fi- 
 delio." 
 
 But there came no answer. The seat behind 
 us was unoccupied. Ambrose was gone. 
 
 We could hardly believe our eyes when we 
 alighted and found that it was really so. He had 
 most certainly taken his seat there at Friar's Oak, 
 and from there on we had come without a break 
 as fast as the mares could travel. Whither then 
 could he have vanished to ? 
 
 "He's fallen off in a fit!" cried my uncle. 
 " I'd drive back, but the prince is expecting us. 
 Where's the landlord ? — Here, Coppinger, send 
 your best man back to Friar's Oak as fast as his 
 horse can go, to find news of my valet, Ambrose. 
 See that no pains be spared. — Now, nephew, we 
 shall lunch and then go up to the Pavilion." 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 "5 
 
 My uncle was much disturbed by the strange 
 loss of his valet, the more so as it was his custom 
 to go through a whole series of washings and 
 changings after even the shortest journey. For 
 my own part, mindful of my mother's advice, I 
 carefully brushed the dust from my clothes, and 
 made myself as neat as possible. My heart was 
 down in my boots now that I had the immediate 
 prospect of meeting so great and terrible a per- 
 son as the Prince of Wales. I had seen his flaring 
 yellow barouche flying through Friar's Oak many 
 a time, and had hallooed and waved my hat with 
 the others as it passed, but never in my wildest 
 dreams had it entered my head that I should ever 
 be called upon to look him in the face and answer 
 his questions. My mother had taught me to 
 regard him with reverence, as one of those whom 
 God had placed to rule over us, but my uncle 
 astonished and shocked me by laughing when I 
 told him how I felt. 
 
 " You are old enough to see things as they 
 are, nephew," said he, " and your knowledge of 
 them is the badge that you are in that inner circle 
 where I mean to place you. There is no one 
 who knows the prince better than I do, and there 
 is no one who trusts him lesS. A stranger contra- 
 diction of qualities was never gathered under one 
 hat. He is a man who is always in a hurry, and 
 
Il6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 yet has never anything to do. He fusses about 
 things with which he has no concern, and he neg- 
 lects every obvious duty. He is generous to 
 those who have no claim upon him, but he has 
 ruined his tradesmen by refusing to pay his just 
 debts. He is affectionate to casual acquaintances, 
 but he dislikes his father, loathes his mother, and 
 is not on speaking terms with his wife. He claims 
 to be the first gentleman of England, but the gen- 
 tlemen of England have responded by blackball- 
 ing his friends at their clubs, and by warning him 
 off from Newmarket, under suspicion of having 
 tampered with a horse. He spends his days in 
 uttering noble sentiments and contradicting them 
 by ignoble actions. He tells stories of his own 
 doings which are so grotesque that they can only 
 be explained by the madness which runs in his 
 blood. 
 
 "And yet, with all this, he can be courteous, 
 and dignified, and kindly upon occasion, and I 
 have seen an impulsive good-heartedness in the 
 man which has made me overlook faults which 
 come mainly from his being placed in a position 
 which no man upon this earth was ever less fitted 
 to fill. But this is between ourselves, nephew, 
 and now you will come with me and you will 
 form an opinion for yourself." 
 
 It was but a short walk, and yet it took us 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 117 
 
 some time, for my uncle stalked along with great 
 dignity, his lace-bordered handkerchief in one 
 hand, and his cane with the clouded amber head 
 dangling from the other. Every one that we met 
 seemed to know him, and their hats flew from 
 their heads as we passed. He took little notice 
 of these greetings, save to give a nod to one, or 
 to slightly raise his forefinger to another. It 
 chanced, however, that as we turned into the 
 Pavilion grounds we met a magnificent team of 
 four coal-black horses, driven by a rough-looking, 
 middle-aged fellow in an old wreather-stained cape. 
 There was nothing that I could see to distinguish 
 him from any professional driver, save that he 
 was chatting very freely with a dainty little 
 woman, who was perched on the box beside him. 
 
 " Hullo, Charlie ! Good drive down ? " he 
 cried. 
 
 My uncle bowed and smiled to the lady. 
 
 " Broke it at Friar's Oak," said he. " I've my 
 light curricle' and two new mares, half-thorough- 
 bred, half-Cleveland bay." 
 
 " What d'ye think of my team of blacks ? " 
 cried the other. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Charles, what d'ye think of them ? 
 Ain't they damnation smart?" said the little- 
 woman. 
 
 " Plenty of power. Good horses for the Sus- 
 
Il8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 sex clay. Too thick about the fetlocks for me. I 
 like to travel." 
 
 " Travel ? " cried the woman, with extraordi- 
 nary vehemence. " Why, what the " and she 
 
 broke into such language as I had never heard 
 even from a man's lips before, " We'd start with 
 our swingle-bars touching, and we'd have your 
 dinner ordered, cooked, and laid before you were 
 there to eat it." 
 
 " By God, yes ; Letty is right ! " cried the 
 man. " D'you start to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Yes, Jack." 
 
 " Well, I'll make you an offer. Look ye, here, 
 Charlie. I'll spring my cattle from the Castle 
 Square at quarter before nine. You can follow 
 as the clock strikes. I've double the horses and 
 double the weight. If you so much as see me be- 
 fore we cross Westminster bridge I'll pay you a 
 cool hundred. If not, it's my money, play or pay. 
 Is it a match ? " 
 
 " Very good," said my uncle, and, raising his 
 hat, he led the way into the grounds. As I fol- 
 lowed I saw the woman take the reins, while 
 the man looked after us, and squirted a jet of 
 tobacco juice from between his teeth in coach- 
 man fashion. 
 
 " That's Sir John Lade," said my uncle, " one 
 of the richest men and best whips in England. 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 119 
 
 There isn't a professional on the road that can 
 handle either his tongue or his ribbons better, but 
 his wife, Lady Letty, is his match with the one or 
 the other." 
 
 " It was dreadful to hear her," said I. 
 
 " Oh, it's her eccentricity. We all have them, 
 and she amuses the prince. Now, nephew, keep 
 close at my elbow and have your eyes open and 
 your mouth shut." 
 
 Two lines of magnificent red and gold foot- 
 men, who guarded the door, bowed deeply as my 
 uncle and I passed between them, he with his 
 head in th« air and a manner as if he entered into 
 his own, while I tried to look assured, though 
 my heart was sinking within me. Within there 
 was a high and large hall ornamented with East- 
 ern decorations which corresponded with the 
 domes and minarets of the exterior. A number 
 of people were moving quickly about, forming 
 into groups and whispering to each other. One 
 of these, a short, burly, red-faced man, full of fuss 
 and self-importance, came hurrying up to my 
 uncle. 
 
 " I have de goot news. Sir Charles," he said, 
 sinking his voice as one who speaks of weighty 
 measures. " Es ist voUendet — dat is, I have it at 
 last thoroughly done." 
 
 " Well, serve it hot," said my uncle, coldly. 
 
I20 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " and see that the sauces are a little better than 
 when last I dined at Carlton House." 
 
 " Ah, mine Gott ! you tink I talk of cooking ? 
 It is the affair of the prince dat I talk of. Dat is 
 one little vol-auvent dat is worth one hundred 
 tousand pound. Ten per cent and double to be 
 repaid when de royal pappa die. AUes ist fertig. 
 Goldschmidt of de Hague have took it up, and 
 the Dutch public has subscribe de money." 
 
 " Heaven help the Dutch public ! " muttered 
 my uncle, as the fat little man bustled off with his 
 news to some newcomer. " That's the prince's 
 famous cook, nephew. He has not his equal in 
 England for a filet saute ailx champignons. He 
 manages his master's money affairs." 
 
 " The cook ! " I exclaimed, in bewilderment. 
 
 " You look surprised, nephew." 
 
 " I should have thought that some respectable 
 banking firm " 
 
 My uncle inclined his lips to my ear. 
 
 " No respectable house would touch them," 
 he whispered. — " Ah, Mellish, is the prince with- 
 in?" 
 
 " In the private saloon, Sir Charles," said the 
 gentleman addressed. 
 
 " Any one with him ? " 
 
 " Sheridan and Francis. He said he expected 
 you." 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 121 
 
 " Then we shall go through." 
 
 I followed him through the strangest succes- 
 sion of rooms, full of curious barbaric splendour, 
 which impressed me as being very rich and won- 
 derful, though perhaps I should think differently 
 now. Gold and scarlet, in arabesque designs, 
 gleamed upon the walls, with gilt dragons and 
 monsters writhing along cornices and out of cor- 
 ners. Finally, a footman opened a door, and we 
 found ourselves in the prince's own private apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Two gentlemen were lounging in a very easy 
 fashion upon luxurious fauteuils at the farther 
 end of the room, and a third stood between them, 
 his thick, well-formed legs somewhat apart and 
 his hands clasped behind him. The sun was shin- 
 ing in upon them through a side window, and I 
 can see the three faces now — one in the dusk, one 
 in the light, and one cut across by the shadow. 
 Of those at the sides, I recall the reddish nose 
 and dark flashing eyes of the one, and the hard, 
 austere face of the other, with the high coat col- 
 lars and many-wreathed cravats. These I took in 
 at a glance, but it was upon the man in the centre 
 that my gaze was fixed, for this I knew must be 
 the Prince of Wales. 
 
 George was then in his forty-first year, and, 
 with the help of his tailor and his hairdresser, he 
 
122 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 might have passed as somewhat less. The sight 
 of him put me at my ease, for he was a merry- 
 looking man, handsome, too, in a portly, full- 
 blooded way, with laughing eyes and pouting, 
 sensitive lips. His nose was turned upward, 
 which increased the good-humoured effect of his 
 countenance at the expense of its dignity. His 
 cheeks were pale and sodden, like those of a man 
 who lived too well and took too little exercise. 
 He was dressed in a single-breasted black coat, 
 buttoned up to his neck, a pair of leather panta- 
 loons stretched tightly across his broad thighs, 
 polished Hessian boots, and a huge white neck- 
 cloth. 
 
 " Hullo, Tregellis ! " he cried, in the cheeriest 
 fashion, as my uncle crossed the threshold, and 
 then suddenly the smile faded from his face, and 
 his eyes gleamed with resentment. " What the 
 devil is this?" he shouted, angrily. 
 
 A thrill of fear passed through me as I 
 thought that it was my appearance which had 
 produced this outburst. But his eyes were 
 gazing past us, and, glancing round, we saw 
 that a little man in a brown coat and scratch 
 wig had followed so closely at our heels that 
 the footmen had let him pass, under the impres- 
 sion that he was of our party. His face was 
 very red, and the folded blue paper which he 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 123 
 
 carried in his hand shook and crackled in his 
 excitement. 
 
 " Why, it's Vuillamy, the furniture man ! " cried 
 the prince. " Damme, am I to be dunned in my 
 own private room ? Where's Mellish ? Where's 
 Townshend? What the devil is Tom Tring 
 doing ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't have intruded, your Royal High- 
 ness, but I must have the money — or even a thou- 
 sand on account would do." 
 
 " Must have it, miist you, Vuillamy ? That's 
 a fine word to use. I pay my debts in my own 
 time, and damme I'm not to be bullied. — Turn 
 him out, footman ! Take him away ! " 
 
 " If I don't get it by Monday I shall be in your 
 papa's bench," wailed the little man, and as the 
 footman led him out we could hear him, amid 
 shouts of laughter, still protesting that he would 
 wind up in papa's bench. 
 
 " That's the very place for a furniture man," 
 said the man with the red nose. 
 
 " It should be the longest bench in the world. 
 Sherry," answered the prince, " for a good many 
 of his subjects will want seats on it. — Very glad 
 to see you back, Tregellis, but you must really be 
 more careful what you bring in upon your skirts. 
 It was only yesterday that we had a damned 
 Dutchman here howling about some arrears of 
 
124 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 interest and the devil knows what. ' My good 
 fellow,' said I, ' as long as the Commons starve me 
 I have to starve you,' and so the matter ended." 
 
 " I think, sir, that the Commons would respond 
 now if the matter were fairly put before them by 
 Charlie Fox or myself," said Sheridan. 
 
 The prince burst out against the Commons 
 with an energy of hatred that one would scarce 
 expect from that chubby, good-humoured face. 
 
 " Why, damn them ! " he cried. " After all 
 their preaching and throwing my father's model 
 life, as they called it, in my teeth, they had to pay 
 his debts to the tune of nearly a million, while I 
 can't get a hundred thousand out of them. And 
 look at all they've done for my brothers ! York 
 is commander-in-chief. Clarence is admiral. 
 What am I ? Colonel of a damned dragoon regi- 
 ment, under the orders of my own younger 
 brother! It's my mother that is at the bottom of 
 it all. She always tried to hold me back. — But 
 what's this you've brought, Tregellis, eh ? " 
 
 My uncle put his hand on my sleeve and led 
 me forward. 
 
 " This is my sister's son, sir, Rodney Stone by 
 name," said he. " He is coming with me to Lon- 
 don, and I thought it right to begin by presenting 
 him to your Royal Highness." 
 
 " Quite right ! quite right ! " said the prince, 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 125 
 
 with a good-natured smile, patting me in a friend- 
 ly way upon the shoulder. " Is your mother 
 living?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said I. 
 
 " If you are a good son to her, you will never 
 go wrong. And, mark my words, Mr. Rodney 
 Stone, you should honour the king, love your 
 country, and uphold the glorious British constitu- 
 tion." 
 
 When I thought of the energy with which he 
 had just been damning the House of Commons, 
 I could scarce keep from smiling, and I saw 
 Sheridan put his hand up to his lips. 
 
 " You have only to do this, to show a regard 
 for your word, and to keep out of debt, in order 
 to insure a happy and respected life. What is 
 your father, Mr. Stone? Royal navy ! Well, 'tis 
 a glorious service. I have had a touch of it my- 
 self. — Did I ever tell how I laid aboard the 
 French sloop of war Minerve — eh, Tregellis ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said my uncle. Sheridan and 
 Francis exchanged glances behind the prince's 
 back. 
 
 " She was flying her tricolour out there within 
 sight of my pavilion windows. Never saw such 
 damned impudence in my life ! It would take a 
 man of less mettle than me to stand it. Out I 
 went in my little cock boat — you know, my sixty- 
 
126 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ton yawl, Charlie — with two four-pounders on 
 each side and a six-pounder in the bows." 
 
 "Well, sir! well, sir! and what then, sir?" 
 cried Francis, who appeared to be an irascible, 
 rough-tongued man. 
 
 " You will permit me to tell the story in my 
 own way. Sir Philip," said the prince with dig- 
 nity. " I was about to say that our metal was so 
 light, that I give you my word, gentlemen, I 
 carried my port broadside in one coat pocket and 
 my starboard in the other. Up we came to the 
 big Frenchman, took her fire, and scraped the 
 paint off her before we let drive. But it was no 
 use. By -God, gentlemen, our balls just stuck in 
 her timbers like stones in a mud wall. She had 
 her nettings up, but we scrambled aboard, and at 
 it we went, hammer and anvil. It was a sharp 
 twenty minutes, but we beat her people down be- 
 low, made the hatches fast on them, and towed 
 her into Seaham. — Surely, you were with us. 
 Sherry ? " 
 
 " I was in London at the time," said Sheridan, 
 gravely. 
 
 " You can vouch for it, Francis ? " 
 
 " I can vouch to having heard your Highness 
 tell the story." 
 
 " It was a rough little bit of cutlass and pistol 
 work. But for my own part I like the rapier. 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 127 
 
 It's a gentleman's weapon. You heard of my 
 bout with the Chevalier d'Eon ? I had him at 
 my sword point for forty minutes at Angelo's. 
 He is one of the best blades in Europe, but I 
 was a little too supple in the wrist for him, ' I 
 thank God there was a button on your Highness's 
 foil,' said he, when we had finished our breather. 
 — By the way, you're a bit of a duellist yourself, 
 Tregellis ! How often have you been out ? " 
 
 " I used to go when I needed exercise," said 
 my uncle, carelessly, " but I have taken to tennis 
 now instead. A painful incident happened the 
 last time that I was out, and it sickened me of it." 
 
 " You killed your man ? " 
 
 " No, no, sir, it was worse than that. I had a 
 coat that Westoti has never equalled. To say 
 that it fitted me is not to express it. It was me — 
 like the hide on a horse. I've had sixty from 
 him since, but he could never approach it. The 
 sit of the collar brought tears into my eyes, sir, 
 when first I saw it, and as to the waist " 
 
 " But the duel, Tregellis ! " cried the prince. 
 
 " Well, sir, I wore it at the duel, like the 
 thoughtless fool that I was. It was Major Hun- 
 ter of the Guards, with whom I had had a little 
 tracasserie because I hinted that he should not 
 come into Brooks's smelling of the stables. I 
 fired first and missed. He fired, and I shrieked in 
 
128 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 despair. ' He's hit ! A surgeon ! a surgeon ! ' 
 they cried. ' A tailor ! a tailor ! ' said I ; for 
 there was a double hole through the tails of my 
 masterpiece. No, it was past all repair. You 
 may laugh, sir, but I'll never see the like of it 
 again." 
 
 I had seated myself on a settee in the corner, 
 upon the prince's invitation, and very glad I was 
 to remain quiet and unnoticed, listening to the 
 talk of these men. It was all in the same extrava- 
 gant vein, garnished with many senseless oaths ; 
 but I observed this difference, that whereas my 
 uncle and Sheridan had something of humour in 
 their exaggeration, Francis tended always to ill- 
 nature, and the prince to self-glorification. Fi- 
 nally, the conversation turned to music — I am not 
 sure that my uncle did not artfully bring it there 
 — and the prince, hearing from him of my tastes, 
 would have it that I should then and there sit 
 down at the wonderful little piano, all inlaid with 
 mother-of-pearl, which stood in the corner, and 
 play him the accompaniment to his song. It was 
 called, as I remember, " The Briton Conquers but 
 to Save," and he rolled it out in a very fair bass 
 voice, the others joining in the chorus and clap- 
 ping vigorously when he finished. 
 
 " Bravo, Mr. Stone ! " said he. " You have an 
 excellent touch, and I know what I am talking 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 129. 
 
 about when I speak of music ; Cramer of the 
 opera said only the other day that he had rather 
 hand his baton to me than to any amateur in Eng- 
 land. — Hullo, it's Charlie Fox, by all that's won- 
 derful ! " 
 
 He had run forward with much warmth and 
 was shaking the hand of a singular-looking per- 
 son who had just entered the room. The new- 
 comer was a stout, square-built man, plainly and 
 almost carelessly dressed, with an uncouth man- 
 ner and a rolling gait. His age might have been 
 something over fifty, and his swarthy, harshly 
 featured face was already deeply lined either by 
 his years or by his excesses. I have never seen 
 a countenance in which the angel and the devil 
 were more obviously wedded. 
 
 Above was the high, broad forehead of the 
 philosopher, with keen, humorous eyes looking 
 out from under thick, strong brows. Below was 
 the heavy jowl of the sensualist, curving in a 
 broad crease over his cravat. That brow was the 
 brow of the public Charles Fox, the thinker, the 
 philanthropist, the man who rallied and led the 
 Liberal party during the twenty most hazardous 
 years of its existence. That jaw was the jaw of 
 the private Charles Fox, the gambler, the liber- 
 tine, the drunkard. Yet to his sins he never 
 added the crowning one of hypocrisy. His vices 
 
I30 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 were as open as his virtues. In some quaint freak 
 of Nature two spirits seemed to have been joined 
 in one body, and the same frame to contain the 
 best and the worst man of his age. 
 
 "I've run down from Chertsey, sir, just to 
 shake you by the hand and to make sure that the 
 Tories have not carried you off." 
 
 "Damnation, Charlie ! you know that I sink or 
 swim with my friends ! A Whig I started, and a 
 Whig I shall remain." 
 
 I thought that I could read upon Fox's dark 
 face that he was by no means so confident about 
 the prince's principles. 
 
 " Pitt has been at you, sir, I understand." 
 
 " Yes, confound him ! I hate the sight of that 
 damned sharp-pointed nose of his which he w^ants 
 to be forever poking into my affairs. He and 
 Addington have been boggling about the debts 
 again. Why, look ye, Charlie, if Pitt held me in 
 contempt he could not behave different." 
 
 I gathered from the smile which flittered over 
 Sheridan's expressive face that this was exactly 
 what Pitt did do. But straightway they all 
 plunged into politics, varied by the drinking of 
 sweet maraschino, which a footman brought 
 round upon a salver. The king, the queen, the 
 Lords and the Commons were each in succession 
 cursed by the prince, in spite of the excellent ad- 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 131 
 
 vice which he had given me about the British 
 constitution. 
 
 " Why, they allow me so little that I can't look 
 after my own people. There are a dozen annui- 
 ties to old servants and the like, and it's all I can 
 do to scrape the money together to pay them. 
 However, my " — he pulled himself up and 
 coughed in a consequential way — " my financial 
 agent has arranged for a loan, repayable upon the 
 king's death. This liqueur isn't good for either 
 of us, Charlie. We're both getting damned stout." 
 
 " I can't get my exercise, for the gout," said 
 Fox. 
 
 " I am blooded fifty ounces a month, but the 
 more I take the more 1 make. — You wouldn't 
 think to look at us, Tregellis, that we could do 
 what we have done. — We've had some days and 
 nights together, Charlie." 
 
 Fox smiled and shook his head. 
 
 " You remember how we posted to Newmar- 
 ket before the races. We took a public coach, 
 Tregellis, clapped the postillions into the rumble, 
 and jumped onto their places. ' Charlie rode the 
 leader and I the wheeler. A damned fellow 
 wouldn't let us through his turnpike, and Charlie 
 hopped off and had his coat off in a minute. The 
 fellow thought he had to do with a fighting man, 
 and soon cleared the way for us." 
 
132 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " By the way, sir, speaking of fighting men, I 
 give a supper to the fancy at the Wagon and 
 Horses on Friday next," said my uncle. " If you 
 should chance to be in town they would think it a 
 great honour if you should condescend to look in 
 upon us." 
 
 " I've not seen a fight since I saw Tom Tyne, 
 the tailor, kill Earl fourteen years ago. I swore 
 off then, and you know me as a man of my word, 
 Tregellis. Of course, I've been at the ringside 
 incog, many a time, but never as the Prince of 
 Wales." 
 
 " We should be vastly honoured if you would 
 come incog, to our supper, sir." 
 
 " Well, well, Sherry, make a note of it. We'll 
 be at Carlton House on Friday. The prince can't 
 come, you know, Tregellis, but you might reserve 
 a chair for the Earl of Chester." 
 
 "Sir, we shall be proud to see the Earl of 
 Chester there," said my uncle. 
 
 " By the way, Tregellis," said Fox, " there's 
 some rumour about your having a sporting bet 
 with Sir Lothian Hume. What's the truth of it ? " 
 
 " Only a small matter of a couple of thous to a 
 thou, he giving the odds. He has a fancy to this 
 new Gloucester man, Crab Wilson, and I'm to 
 find a man to beat him. Anything under twenty 
 or over thirty-five, at or about thirteen stone." 
 
THE HOPE OF ENGLAND. 133 
 
 " You take Charlie Fox's advice, then," cried 
 the prince. " When it comes to handicapping a 
 horse, playing a hand, matching a cock, or pick- 
 ing a man, he has the best judgment in England. 
 — Now, Charlie, whom have we got upon the list 
 who can beat Crab Wilson of Gloucester ? " 
 
 I was amazed at the interest and knowledge 
 which all these great people showed about the 
 ring, for they not only had the deeds of the prin- 
 cipal men of the time — Belcher, Mendoza, Jackson, 
 or Dutch Sam — at their fingers' ends, but there 
 was no fighting man so obscure that they did not 
 know the details of his deeds and prospects. The 
 old ones and then the young were discussed, their 
 weight, their gameness, their hitting power, and 
 their constitution. Who, as he saw Sheridan and 
 Fox eagerly arguing as to whether Caleb Bald- 
 win, the Westminster costermonger, could hold 
 his own with Isaac Bittoon the Jew, would have 
 guessed that the one was the deepest political 
 philosopher in Europe, and that the other would 
 be remembered as the author of the wittiest com- 
 edy and of the finest speech of his generation? 
 The name of Champion Harrison came very early 
 into the discussion, and Fox, who had a high idea 
 of Crab Wilson's powers, was of the opinion that 
 my uncle's only chance lay in the veteran taking 
 the field again. " He may be slow on his pins, 
 
134 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 but he fights with his head, and he hits like the 
 kick of a horse. When he finished Black Baruk 
 the man flew across the outer ring as well as the 
 inner, and fell among the spectators. If he isn't 
 absolutely stale, Tregellis, he is your best chance." 
 
 My uncle shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " If poor Avon were here we might do some- 
 thing with him, for he was Harrison's first patron, 
 and the man was devoted to him. But his wife 
 is too strong for me. And now, sir, I must leave 
 you, for I have had the misfortune to-day to lose 
 the best valet in England, and I must make in- 
 quiry for him. I thank your Royal Highness for 
 your kindness in receiving my nephew in so gra- 
 cious a fashion." 
 
 " Till Friday, then," said the prince. " I have 
 to go up to town in any case, for there is a poor 
 devil of an East India Company's officer who has 
 written to me in his distress. If I can raise a 
 few hundreds I shall see him and set things right 
 for him. — Now, Mr. Stone, you have your life be- 
 fore you, and I hope it will be one which your 
 uncle may be proud of. You will honour the king 
 and show respect for the constitution, Mr. Stone. 
 And hark ye, you will avoid debt and bear in 
 mind that your honour is a sacred thing." So I 
 carried away a last impression of his plump, 
 good-natured face, his high cravat, and his broad 
 
THE HOPE' OF ENGLAND. 135 
 
 leather thighs. Again we passed the strange 
 rooms, the gilded monsters, and the gorgeous 
 footmen, and it was with relief that I found my- 
 self out in the open air once more, with the broad 
 blue sea in front of us and the fresh evening 
 breeze upon our faces. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 
 
 My uncle and I were up betimes next morn- 
 ing, but he was much out of temper, for no news 
 had been heard of his valet Ambrose. He had, 
 indeed, become like one of those ants of which I 
 have read, who are so accustomed to be fed by 
 smaller ants that when they are left to themselves 
 they die of hunger. It was only by the aid of a 
 man whom the, landlord procured, and of Fox's 
 valet, who had been sent expressly across, that 
 his toilet was at last performed. 
 
 " I must win this race, nephew," said he, when 
 we had finished breakfast. " I can't afford to be 
 beat. Look out of the window and see if the 
 Lades are there." 
 
 " I see a red four-in-hand in the square, and 
 there is a crowd round it. Yes, I see the lady 
 upon the box seat." 
 
 " Is our tandem out?" 
 
 " It is at the door." 
 
 136 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 137 
 
 " Come, then, and you shall have such a drive 
 as you never had before." 
 
 He stood at the door pulling on his long 
 brown driving gauntlets and giving his orders to 
 the ostlers. 
 
 " Every ounce will tell," said he. " We'll 
 leave that dinner basket behind. — And you can 
 keep my dog for me, Coppinger. You know him 
 and understand him. Let him have his warm 
 milk and curagoa the same as usual. — Whoa, my 
 darlings, you'll have your fill of it before you 
 see Westminster Bridge." 
 
 " Shall I put in the toilet case ? " asked the 
 landlord. 
 
 I saw the struggle upon my uncle's face, but 
 he was true to his principles. 
 
 " Put it under the seat — ^the front seat," said 
 he. — " Nephew, you must keep your weight as far 
 forward as possible. Can you do anything on a 
 yard of tin ? Well, if you can't, we'll leave the 
 trumpet. — Buckle that girth up, Thomas. Have 
 you greased the hubs as I told you ? Well, jump 
 up, nephew, and we'll see them off." 
 
 Quite a crowd had gathered in the old square, 
 men and women, dark-coated tradesmen, bucks 
 from the prince's court, and officers from Hove, 
 all in a buzz of excitement, for Sir John Lade and 
 my uncle were two of the most famous whips of 
 
128 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 the time, and a match between them was a thing 
 to talk of for many a long day. 
 
 " The prince will be sorry to have missed the 
 start," said my uncle. " He doesn't show before 
 midday. — Ah, Jack, good-morning ! — Your servant, 
 madame ! It's a fine day for a little bit of Wag- 
 goning." 
 
 As our tandem came alongside of the four-in- 
 hand, with the two bonny mares gleaming like 
 shot silk in the sunshine, a murmur of admiration 
 arose from the crowd. My uncle, in his fawn- 
 coloured driving coat, with all his harness of the 
 same tint, looked the ideal Corinthian whip, while 
 Sir John Lade, with his many-capped coat, his 
 white hat, and his rough, weatherbeaten face, 
 might have taken his seat with a line of profes- 
 sionals upon an alehouse bench without any one 
 being able to pick him out as one of the wealthiest 
 landowners in England. 
 
 It was an age of eccentricity, but he had carried 
 his peculiarities to a length which surprised even 
 the out-and-outers by marrying the mistress of a 
 famous highwayman when the gallows had come 
 between her and her lover. She was perched by 
 his side, looking very smart in the flowered bon- 
 net and a gray travelling dress, while in front of 
 them the four splendid coal-black horses, with a 
 flickering touch of gold upon their powerful, well- 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 139 
 
 curved quarters, were pawing the stones in their 
 eagerness to be off. 
 
 " It's a hundred that you don't see us before 
 Westminster with a quarter of an hour's start," 
 said Sir John. 
 
 " I'll take you another hundred that we pass 
 you," answered my uncle. 
 
 " Very good. Time's up. Good-bye ! " He 
 gave a tchk of the tongue, shook his reins, saluted 
 with his whip in true coachman's style, and away 
 he went, taking the curve out of the square in 
 a workmanlike fashion that fetched a cheer from 
 the crowd. We heard the dwindling roar of his 
 wheels upon the cobblestones until they died 
 away in the distance. 
 
 It seemed one of the longest quarters of an 
 hour that I had ever known before the first stroke 
 of nine boomed from the parish clock. For my 
 part I was fidgeting in my seat in my impatience, 
 but my uncle's calm, pale face and large blue eyes 
 were as tranquil and demure as those of the most 
 unconcerned spectator. He was keenly on the 
 alert, however, and it seemed to me that the 
 stroke of the clock and the thong of his whip fell 
 together — not in a blow, but in a sharp snap over 
 them both, which sent us flying with a jingle 
 and a rattle upon our fifty-mile journey. I heard 
 a roar from behind us, saw the lines of windows 
 
I40 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 with staring faces and waving handkerchiefs, and 
 then we were off the stones and on to the good 
 white road, which curved away in front of us 
 with the sweep of the green Downs on either side 
 of it. 
 
 I had been provided with shillings, that the 
 turnpike gate might not stop us, but my uncle 
 reined in the mares, and took them at a very easy 
 trot up all the heavy stretch which ends in Clay- 
 ton hill. He let them go then, and we flashed- 
 through Friar's Oak and across St. John's Com- 
 mon without more than catching a glimpse of the 
 yellow cottage which contained all that I loved 
 best. Never have I travelled at such a pace, and 
 never have I felt such a sense of exhilaration from 
 the rush of keen upland air upon our faces, and 
 from the sight of those two glorious creatures, 
 stretched to their uttermost, with the roar of 
 their hoofs and the rattle of our wheels as the 
 light curricle bounded and swayed behind them. 
 
 " It's a long four miles uphill from here to 
 
 Hand Cross," said my uncle, as we flew through 
 
 Cuckfield. " I must ease them a bit, for I can not 
 
 afford to break the hearts of my cattle. They 
 
 have the right blood in them, and they would 
 
 gallop until they dropped if I were brute enough 
 
 to let them. Stand up on the seat, nephew, and 
 
 * 
 see if you can get a glimpse of them. ' 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 141 
 
 I stood up, steadying myself upon my uncle's 
 shoulder, but, though I could see for a mile, or 
 perhaps a quarter more, there was not a sign of 
 the four-in-hand. 
 
 " If he has sprung his cattle up all these hills 
 they'll be spent ere they see Croydon," said he. 
 
 " They have four to two," said I. 
 
 " J'en suis bien aise. The Cleveland bay 
 strain makes a good, honest creature, but not 
 fliers like these. There lies Cuckfield Place, 
 where the Towers are, yonder. Get your weight 
 right forward on the splashboard, now that we 
 are going uphill, nephew. Look at the action of 
 that leader. Did you ever see anything more 
 easy and more beautiful ? " 
 
 We were taking the hill at a quiet trot, but 
 even so we made the carrier, walking in the 
 shadow of his huge broad-wheeled canvas-cov- 
 ered wagon, stare at us in amazement. Close to 
 Hand-cross we passed the Royal Brighton stage, 
 which had left at half past seven, dragging heav- 
 ily up the slope, and its passengers toiling along 
 in the dust behind us, gave us a cheer as we 
 whirled by. At Hand-cross we caught a glimpse 
 of the old landlord, hurrying out with his gin and 
 gingerbread, but the dip of the ground was down- 
 ward now, and away we flew as fast as eight gal- 
 lant hoofs could take us. 
 
142 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Do you drive, nephew ? " 
 
 " Very little, sir." 
 
 " There is no driving on the Brighton road." 
 
 " How is that, sir? " 
 
 " Too good a road, nephew. I have only to 
 give, them their heads, and they will race me into 
 Westminster. It wasn't always so. When I was 
 a very young man one might learn to handle his 
 twenty yards of tape here as well as elsewhere. 
 There's not much really good wagoning now 
 south of Leicestershire. Show me a man who 
 can hit 'era and hold 'em on a Yorkshire daleside, 
 and that's the man who comes from the right 
 school." 
 
 We had raced over Crawley Down and into 
 the broad main street of Crawley village, flying 
 between two country wagons in a way which 
 showed me that even now a driver might do 
 something on the road. With every turn I 
 peered ahead, looking for our opponents, but mj- 
 uncle seemed to concern himself very little about 
 them, and occupied himself in giving me advice 
 mixed up with so many phrases of the craft that 
 it was all I could do to follow him. 
 
 " Keep a finger for each or you will have your 
 reins clubbed," said he. " As to the whip, the 
 less fanning the better, if you have willing cattle, 
 but when you want to put a little life into a 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 143 
 
 coach, see that you get your thong onto the 
 one that needs it, and don't let it fly round after 
 you've hit. I've seen a driver warm up the off- 
 side passenger on the roof behind him every time 
 he tried to cut his ofE-side w^heeler. I believe 
 that is their dust over yonder." 
 
 A long stretch of road lay before us, barred 
 with the shadows of wayside trees. Through the 
 green fields a lazy blue river was drawing itself 
 slowly along, passing under a bridge in front of 
 us. Beyond was a young fir plantation, and over 
 its olive line there rose a white whirl which 
 drifted swiftly like a cloud scud on a breezy day. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; it's they ! " cried my uncle. " No 
 one else would travel as fast. Come, nephew, 
 we're halfway when we cross the Mole at Kim- 
 berham Bridge, and we've done it in two hours 
 and fourteen minutes. The prince drove to Carl- 
 ton House with a three tandem in four hours and 
 a half. The first half is the worst half, and we 
 might cut his time if all goes well. We should 
 make up between this and Reigate." 
 
 And we flew. The bay mares seemed to know 
 what that white puff in front of us signified and 
 they stretched themselves like greyhounds. We 
 passed a phaeton and pair London-bound and we 
 left it behind as if it had been standing still. 
 Trees, gates, cottages went dancing by. We 
 
144 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 heard the folks shouting from the field under the 
 impression that we were a runaway. Faster and 
 faster yet they raced, the hoofs rattling like cas- 
 tanets, the yellow manes flying, the wheels buzz- 
 ing and every joint and rivet creaking and groan- 
 ing, while the curricle swung and swayed until I 
 found myself clutching at the side rail. My uncle 
 eased them and glanced at his watch as we saw 
 the gray tiles and dingy red houses of Reigate in 
 the hollow beneath us. 
 
 " We did the last six well under twenty min- 
 utes," said he. " We've time in hand now, and a 
 little water at the Red Lion will do them no 
 harm. — Red four-in-hand passed, ostler?" 
 
 " Just gone, sir." 
 
 " Going hard ? " 
 
 " Galloping full split, sir ! Took the wheel off 
 a butcher's cart at the corner of the High Street, 
 and was out o' sight before the butcher's boy 
 could see what had hurt him." 
 
 Z-z-z-z-ach ! went the long thong, and away we 
 flew once more. It was market day at Redhill, 
 and the road was crowded with carts of produce, 
 droves of bullocks, and farmers' gigs. It was a 
 sight to see how my uncle threaded his way 
 among them all. Through the market place we 
 dashed amid the shouting of men, the screaming 
 of women, and the scuttling of poultry, and then 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 145 
 
 we were out in the country again, with the long-, 
 steep incline of the Redhill road before us. My 
 uncle waved his whip in the air with a shrill view- 
 halloo. 
 
 There was the dust cloud, rolling up the hill 
 in front of us, and through it we had a shadowy 
 peep of the backs of our opponents, with a flash 
 of brasswork and gleam of scarlet. 
 
 " There's half the game won, nephew. Now 
 we must pass them. — Hark forward, my beauties ! 
 — By George, if Kitty isn't foundered ! " 
 
 The leader had suddenly gone dead lame. In 
 an instant we were both out of the curricle and 
 on our knees beside her. It was but a stone, 
 wedged between frog and shoe in the off fore- 
 foot, but it was a minute or two before we could 
 wrench it out. When we had regained our 
 places the Lades were round the curve of the hill 
 and out of sight. 
 
 " Bad luck," growled my uncle. " But they 
 can't get away from us ! " For the first time he 
 touched the mares up, for he had but cracked the 
 whip over their heads before. " If we catch them 
 in the next few miles we can spare them for the 
 rest of the way." 
 
 They were beginning to show signs of ex- 
 haustion. Their breath came quick and hoarse, 
 and their beautiful coats gleamed with moisture. 
 
1^6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 At the top of the hill, however, they settled down 
 into their swing once more. 
 
 "Where on earth have they got to?" cried 
 my uncle. " Can you make them out on the road, 
 nephew ? " 
 
 We could see a long, white ribbon of it, all 
 dotted with carts and wagons coming from Croy- 
 don to Redhill, but there was no sign of the big 
 red four-in-hand. 
 
 " There they are ! Stole away ! Stole away ! " 
 he cried, wheeling the mares round into a side 
 road, which struck to the right out of that which 
 we had travelled. " There you are, nephew ! On 
 the brow of the hill ! " 
 
 Sure enough, on the rise of a curve upon our 
 right the four-in-hand had appeared, the horses 
 stretched to the utmost. Our mares laid them- 
 selves out gallantly, and the distance between us 
 began slowly to decrease. I found that I could 
 see the black band upon Sir John's white hat, 
 then that I could count the folds of his cape, 
 finally that I could see the pretty features of his 
 wife as she looked back at us. 
 
 " We're on the side road to Godstone and 
 Warlingham," said my uncle. " I suppose he 
 thought that he could make better time by get- 
 ting out of the way of the market carts. But 
 we've got the devil of a hill to come down. 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 147 
 
 You'll see some fun, nephew, or I am mis- 
 taken." 
 
 As he spoke I suddenly saw the wheels of the 
 four-in-hand disappear, then the body of it, and 
 then the two figures upon the box, as suddenly 
 and abruptly as if it had bumped down the first 
 three steps of some gigantic stairs. An instant 
 later we had reached the same spot, and there 
 was the road beneath us, steep and narrow, wind- 
 ing in long curves into the valley. The four-in- 
 hand was swishing down it as hard as the horses 
 could gallop. 
 
 " Thought so," cried my uncle. " If he doesn't 
 brake why should I ? — Now, my darlings, one 
 good spurt and we'll show them the colour of our 
 tailboard." 
 
 We shot over the brow and flew madly down 
 the hill with the great, red coach roaring and 
 thundering before us. Already we were in her 
 dust, so that we could see nothing but the dim 
 scarlet blur in the heart of it, rocking and rolling, 
 with its outline hardening at every stride. We 
 could hear the crack of the whip in front of us 
 and the shrill voice of Lady Lade as she screamed 
 to the horses. My uncle was very quiet, but 
 when I glanced up at him I saw that his lips were 
 set and his eyes shining, with just a little flush 
 upon each pale cheek. There was no need to 
 
148 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 urge on the mares, for they were already flying 
 at a pace which could neither be stopped nor 
 controlled. Our leaders had come abreast of the 
 near hind wheel, then of the near front one — for a 
 hundred yards we did not gain an inch — and then 
 with a spurt the bay leader was neck to neck 
 with the black wheeler, and our fore wheel with- 
 in an inch of their hind one. 
 
 " Dusty work ! " said my uncle quietly. 
 
 " Fan 'em, Jack, fan 'em ! " shrieked the lady. 
 
 Sir John sprang up and lashed at his horses. 
 
 " Look out, Tregellis ! " he shouted. " There's 
 a damnation spill coming for somebody ! " 
 
 We had got fairly abreast of them now, the 
 rumps of the horses exactly align, and the fore 
 wheels whizzing together. There was not six 
 inches to spare in the breadth of the road, and 
 every instant I expected to feel the jar of a lock- 
 ing wheel. But now, as we came out from the 
 dust, we could see what was ahead, and my uncle 
 whistled between his teeth at the sight. 
 
 Two hundred yards or so in front of us there 
 was a bridge with wooden posts and rails upon 
 either side. The road narrowed down at the 
 point so that it was obvious that the two car- 
 riages abreast could not possibly get over. One 
 must give way to the other. Already our wheels 
 were abreast of their wheelers. 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 
 
 149 
 
 " I lead ! " shouted my uncle. " You must pull 
 them, Lade ! " 
 
 " Not I ! " he roared. 
 
 " No, by God ! " shrieked her ladyship. — " Fan 
 'em, Jack. Keep on fanning 'em ! " 
 
 It seemed to me that we were all going to 
 eternity together. But my uncle did the only 
 thing that could have saved us. By a desperate 
 effort we might just clear the other coach before 
 reaching the mouth of the bridge. He sprang up 
 and lashed right and left at the mares, who, mad- 
 dened by the unaccustomed pain, hurled them- 
 selves on in a frenzy. Down we thundered to- 
 gether, all shouting I believe at the top of our 
 voices in the madness of the moment, but still we 
 were drawing steadily away, and we were al- 
 most clear of the leaders, when we flew onto the 
 bridge. I glanced back at the coach, and I saw 
 Lady Lade, with her savage little white teeth 
 clinched together, throw herself forward and tug 
 with both hands at the near-side reins. 
 
 " Jam them. Jack ! " she cried. " Jam the 
 
 before they can pass ! " 
 
 Had she done it an instant sooner we should 
 have crashed against the woodwork, carried it 
 away, and been hurled into the deep gully below. 
 As it was, it was not the powerful haunch of the 
 black wheeler which caught us, but the fore- 
 
I50 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 quarter of the leader, which had not weight 
 enough to turn us from our course. I saw a wet 
 red seam gape suddenly through the black hair, 
 and next instant we were flying alone down the 
 road, while the four-in-hand had halted, and Sir 
 John and his lady were down in the road 'together 
 tending to the wounded horse. 
 
 " Easy, now, my beauties ! " cried my uncle, 
 settling down into his seat again and looking back 
 over his shoulder. " I could not have believed 
 that Sir John Lade would have been guilty of 
 such a trick as pulling that leader across. I do 
 not permit a mauvaise plaisanterie of that sort. 
 He shall hear from me to-night." 
 
 " It was the lady," said I. My uncle's brow 
 cleared, and he began to laugh. 
 
 " It was little Letty, was it ? " said he. " I 
 might have known it. There's a touch of the 
 late lamented sixteen-string-Jack about the trick. 
 Well, it is only messages of another kind that I 
 send to a lady, so we'll just drive on our way, 
 nephew, and thank our stars that we bring whole 
 bones over the Thames." 
 
 We stopped at the Greyhound at Croydon, 
 where the two good little mares were sponged and 
 petted and fed, after which, at an easier pace, we 
 made our way through Norbury and Streatham. 
 At last the fields grew fewer and the walls longer, 
 
THE BRIGHTON ROAD. 151 
 
 the outlying villas closed up thicker and thicker, 
 until their shoulders met, and we were driving 
 between a double line of houses with garish shops 
 at the corners, and such a stream of traffic as I 
 had never seen roaring down the centre. Then 
 suddenly we were on a broad bridge with a dark 
 brown river flowing sulkily beneath it, and bluff- 
 bowed barges drifting down upon its bosom. To 
 the right and left stretched a broken, irregular 
 line of many-coloured houses winding along either 
 bank as far as I could see. 
 
 " That's the House of Parliament, nephew," 
 said my uncle, pointing with his whip, " and the 
 black towers are Westminster Abbey. — How do, 
 your Grace ? How do ? — That's the Duke of Nor- 
 folk, the stout man in blue upon the swish-tailed 
 mare. Now we are in Whitehall. There's the 
 Treasury on the left, and the Horse Guards and 
 the Admiralty, where the stone dolphins are 
 carved above the gate." 
 
 I had the idea, which a country-bred lad 
 brings up with him, that London was merely a 
 wilderness of houses, but I was astonished now to 
 see the green slopes and the lovely spring trees 
 showing between. 
 
 " Yes, those are the Privy Gardens," said my 
 uncle, " and there is the window out of which 
 Charles took his last step onto the scaffold. You 
 
152 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 wouldn't think the mares had come fifty miles, 
 would you ? See how les petites ch6ries step out 
 for the credit of their master! Look at the 
 barouche with the sharp-featured man peeping out 
 of the window. That's Pitt, going down to the 
 House. We are coming into Pall Mall now, and 
 this great building on the left is Carlton House, 
 the prince's palace. There's St. James's, the 
 big dingy palace with the clock and the two 
 red-coated sentries before it. And here's the 
 famous street of the same name, nephew, which 
 is the very centre of the world ; and here's Jermyn 
 Street opening out of it ; and finally here's my own 
 little box, and we are well under the five hours 
 from Brighton Old Square." 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 watier's. 
 
 My uncle's house in Jermyn Street was quite 
 a small one — five rooms and an attic. " A man 
 cook and a cottage," he said, " are all that a phi- 
 losopher requires." On the other hand, it was 
 furnished with the neatness and taste which be- 
 longed to his character, so that his most luxurious 
 friends found something in the tiny rooms which 
 made them discontented with their own sumptu- 
 ous mansions. Even the attic, which had been 
 converted into my bedroom, was the most perfect 
 little bijou attic that could possibly be imagined. 
 Beautiful and valuable knickknacks filled every 
 corner of every apartment, so that the house had 
 become a perfect miniature museum, which would 
 have delighted a virtuoso. My uncle explained 
 the presence of all these pretty things with a shrug 
 of his shoulders and a wave of his hands. " They 
 are des petites cadeaux," said he, " but it would 
 
 be an indiscretion for me to say more." 
 
 153 
 
154 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 We found a note from Ambrose waiting for us 
 which increased rather than explained the mys- 
 tery of his disappearance. 
 
 " My dear Sir Charles Tregellis," it ran, " it 
 will ever be a subject of regret to me that the 
 force of circumstances should have compelled me 
 to leave your service in so abrupt a fashion, but 
 something occurred during our journey from 
 Friar's Oak to Brighton which left me without 
 any possible alternative. I trust, however, that 
 my absence may prove to be merely a temporary 
 one. The isinglass recipe for the shirt fronts is in 
 the strong room at Drummond's Bank. Yours 
 obediently, Ambrose." 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must fill his place as best I 
 can," said my uncle, moodily. " But how on 
 earth could something have occurred to make 
 him leave me at a time \vhen we were going full 
 trot downhill in my curricle ? I shall never find 
 his match again, either for chocolate or cravats. 
 Je suis desole ! But now, nephew, we must send 
 to Weston and have you fitted up. It is not for a 
 gentleman to go to a shop, but for the shop to 
 come to the gentleman. Until you have your 
 clothes you must remain en retraite." 
 
 The measuring was a most solemn and serious 
 function, though it was nothing to the trying on 
 
WATIER'S. 155 
 
 two days later, when my uncle stood by in an 
 agony of apprehension as each garment was ad- 
 justed, he and Weston arguing over every seam 
 and lappel and skirt until I was dizzy with turn- 
 ing round in front of them. Then just as I had 
 hoped that all was settled in came young Mr. 
 Brummel, who promised to be an even greater 
 exquisite than my uncle, and the whole matter 
 had to be thrashed out between them. He was a 
 good-sized man, this Brummel, with a long, fair 
 face, light brown hair and sandy side-whiskers. 
 His manner was languid, his voice drawling, and, 
 while he eclipsed my uncle in the extravagance of 
 his speech, he had not the same air of manliness 
 and decision which underlay all my uncle's affec- 
 tations. 
 
 " Why, George," cried my uncle, " I thought 
 you were with your regiment ? " 
 
 " I've sent in my papers," drawled the other. 
 
 " I thought it would come to that." 
 
 " Yes. The Tenth was ordered to Manchester, 
 and they could hardly expect me to go to a place 
 like that. Besides, I found the major damned 
 rude." 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 " He expected me to know all about his in- 
 fernal drill, Tregellis, and I had other things to 
 think of, as you may suppose. I had no difficulty 
 
156 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 in taking my right place in parade, for there was a 
 trooper with a red nose on a flea-bitten gray, and 
 I had observed that my post was always immedi- 
 ately in front of him. This saved a great deal of 
 trouble. The other day, however, when I came 
 on parade, I galloped up one line and down the 
 other, but the devil a glimpse could I get of that 
 long nose of his ! Then, just as I was at my wits' 
 end, I caught sight of him, all alone at one side, so 
 I formed up in front. It seems he had been put 
 there to keep the ground, and the major so far 
 forgot himself as to say that I knew nothing of 
 my duties." 
 
 My uncle laughed, and Bruramel looked me 
 up and down with his large, intolerant eyes. 
 
 " These will do very passably," said he. " Buff 
 and blue are always very gentlemanlike. But a 
 sprigged waistcoat would have been better." 
 
 " I think not," said my uncle, warmly. 
 
 " My dear Tregellis, you are infallible upon a 
 cravat, but you must allow me the right of my 
 own judgment upon vests. I like it vastly as it 
 stands, but a touch of red sprig would give it the 
 finish that it needs." 
 
 They argued, with many examples and analo- 
 gies, for a good ten minutes, revolving around 
 me at the same time, with their heads on one 
 side and their glasses to their eyes. It was a 
 
WATIER'S. 157 
 
 relief to me when they at last 'agreed upon a 
 compromise. 
 
 " You must not let anything that I have said 
 shake your faith in Sir Charles's judgment, Mr. 
 Stone," said Brummel, very earnestly. 
 
 I assured him that I should not. 
 
 " If you were my nephew I should expect you 
 to follow my taste. But you will cut a very good 
 figure as it is. I had a young cousin who came 
 up to town last year with a recommendation to 
 my care. But he would take no advice. At the 
 end of the second week I met him coming 
 down ,St. James Street in a snuff-coloured coat, 
 cut by a country tailor. He bowed to me. 
 Of course I knew what was due to myself. I 
 looked all round him and there was an end to 
 his career in town. You are from the country, 
 Mr. Stone?" 
 
 " From Sussex, sir." 
 
 " Sussex ! Why, that's where I send my wash- 
 ing to. There is an excellent clear-starcher living 
 near Haywards Heath. I send my shirts two at 
 a time, for if you send more it excites the woman 
 and diverts her attention. I can not abide any- 
 thing but country-washing. But I should be 
 vastly sorry to have to live there. What can a 
 man find to do ? " 
 
 " You don't hunt, George ? " 
 
1 58 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " When I do it's a woman. But surely you 
 don't go to hounds, Charles ? " 
 
 " I was out with the Belvoir last winter." 
 
 " What amusement can there be in flying 
 about among a crowd of greasy, galloping farm- 
 ers ? Every man to his own taste, but Brookes's 
 window by day and a snug corner at the macao 
 table at Watier's by night give me all I want for 
 mind and body. You heard how I plucked Mon- 
 tague the brewer ! " 
 
 " I have been out of town." 
 
 " I had eight thousand from him at a sitting. 
 ' I shall drink your beer in future, Mr. Brewer,' 
 said I. ' Every blackguard in London does,' said 
 he. It was monstrous impolite of him, but some 
 people can not lose with grace. Well, I am going 
 down to Clarges Street to pay Jew King a little 
 of my interest. Are you bound that way ? Well, 
 good-bye, then ! I'll see you and your young 
 friend at the club or in the Mall, no doubt," and 
 he sauntered off upon his way. 
 
 " That young man is destined to take my 
 place," said my uncle, gravely, when Brumrael 
 had departed. " He is quite young and of no 
 descent, but he has made his way by his cool 
 effrontery, by his natural taste, and by his ex- 
 travagance of speech. There is no man who can 
 be impolite in so polished a fashion. Already his 
 
WATIER'S. 159 
 
 opinion is quoted in the clubs as a rival to my 
 own. Well, every man has his day, and when I 
 am convinced that mine is past, St. James Street 
 will know me no more, for it is not in my nature 
 to be second to any man. But now, nephew, in 
 that bufE and blue suit you may pass anywhere, 
 so if you please we will step into my vis-a-vis and 
 I will show you something of the town." 
 
 How can I describe all that we saw and all 
 that we did upon that lovely spring day ! To me 
 it was as if I had been wafted to a fairy world, 
 and my uncle might have been some benevolent 
 enchanter in a high-collared, long-tailed coat who 
 was guiding me about in it. He showed me the 
 West End streets with the bright carriages and 
 the gayly dressed ladies and sombre-clad men, all 
 crossing and hurrying and recrossing, like an 
 ants' nest when you turn it over with a stick. 
 Never had I formed a conception of such endless 
 banks of houses, and such a ceaseless stream of 
 life flowing between. Then we passed down the 
 Strand, where the crowd was thicker than ever, 
 and even penetrated beyond Temple Bar and 
 into the City, though my uncle begged me not 
 to mention it for he would not wish it to be 
 generally known. There I saw the Exchange 
 and the Bank and Lloyd's Coffee-house with the 
 brown - coated, sharp - faced merchants and the 
 
l6o RODNEY STONE. 
 
 hurrying clerks, the huge horses and the busy 
 draymen. 
 
 It was a very different world, this, from that 
 which we had left in the west — a world of energy 
 and of strength, where there was no place for the 
 listless and the idle. Young as I was, I knew that 
 it was here, in the forest of merchant shipping, in 
 the bales which swung up to the warehouse win- 
 dows, in the loaded wagons which roared over 
 the cobblestones, that the power of Britain lay. 
 Here in the City of London was the tap-root from 
 which empire and wealth and so many other fine 
 leaves had sprouted. Fashion and speech and 
 manners may change, and the city bells may ring 
 out the hours until the clappers fall from their 
 hinges, but the spirit of enterprise within that 
 square mile or two of land must not change, for 
 when it withers all that has grown from it must 
 wither also. 
 
 We lunched at Stephen's, the fashionable inn 
 in Bond Street, where I saw a line of Tilburys 
 and saddle horses which stretched from the door 
 to the farther end of the street. And thence we 
 went to the Mall in St. James's Park, and thence 
 to Brooks's, the great Whig club, and thence 
 again to Watier's, where the men of fashion used 
 to gamble. Everywhere I met the same sort of 
 men with their stiff figures and small waists, all 
 
WATIER'S. l6i 
 
 showing the utmost deference to my uncle, and, 
 for his sake, every civility to me. The talk was 
 always such as I had already heard at the Pavilion 
 — talk of politics, talk of the king's health, talk of 
 the prince's extravagance, of the expected re- 
 newal of the war, of horse racing, and of the ring. 
 I saw, too, that eccentricity was, as my uncle 
 had told me, the fashion, and if the folk upon 
 the continent look upon us even to this day as 
 being a nation of lunatics, it is no doubt a tra- 
 dition handed down from the time when the only 
 travellers whom they were likely to see were 
 drawn from the class which I was now meeting. 
 
 It was an age of heroism and of folly. On 
 the one hand, sailors and statesmen of the quality 
 of Pitt, Nelson, and afterward Wellington, had 
 been forced to the front by the imminent menace 
 of Bonaparte. We were great in arms, and were 
 soon also to be great in literature, for Scott and 
 Byron were in their day the strongest forces in 
 Europe. On the other hand, a touch of madness, 
 real or assumed, was a passport through doors 
 which were closed to wisdom and to virtue. 
 The man who could enter a drawing room walk- 
 ing upon his hands, the man who had filed his 
 teeth that he might whistle like a coachman, the 
 man who always spoke his thoughts aloud and so 
 kept his guests in a quiver of apprehension, these 
 
1 62 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 were the people who found it easy to come to the 
 front in London society. Nor could the heroism 
 and the folly be kept apart, for there were few 
 who could quite escape the contagion of the 
 times. In an age when the premier was a heavy 
 drinker, the leader of the opposition a libertine, 
 and the Prince of Wales a combination of the 
 two, it was hard to know where to look for a 
 man whose private and public characters were 
 equally lofty. At the same time, with all its 
 faults, it was a strong age, and you will be fortu- 
 nate if in your time the one island produces five 
 such names as Pitt, Fox, Scott, Nelson, and Wel- 
 lington. 
 
 It was in Watier's that night seated by my un- 
 cle on one of the red velvet settees at the side of 
 the room that I had pointed out to me some of 
 those singular characters whose fame and eccen- 
 tricities are even now not wholly forgotten in the 
 world. The long, many-pillared room, with its 
 mirrors and chandeliers, was crowded with full- 
 blooded, loud-voiced men about town, all in the 
 same evening dress of white silk stockings, cam- 
 bric shirt fronts, and little flat chapeau bras under 
 the arm. 
 
 " The acid-faced old gentleman with the thin 
 legs is the Marquis of Queensberry," said my un- 
 cle. " His chaise was driven nineteen miles in an 
 
WATIER'S. 163 
 
 hour in a match against the Count Taafe, and he 
 sent a message fifty miles in thirty minutes by 
 throwing it from hand to hand in a cricket ball. 
 The man he is talking to is Sir Charles Bunbury 
 of the Jockey Club, who had the prince warned 
 off the Heath at Newmarket on account of the 
 in-and-out riding of Sam Chifney, his jockey. 
 There's Captain Barclay going up to them now. 
 He knows more about training than any man 
 alive, and he has walked ninety miles in twenty- 
 one hours. You have only to look at his calves 
 to see that Nature built him for it. There's an- 
 other walker there, the man with the flowered 
 vest standing near the fireplace. That is Buck 
 Whalley, who walked to Jerusalem in a long blue 
 coat, top-boots, and buckskins." 
 
 " Why did he do that, sir ? " I asked, in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 My uncle shrugged his shoulders. 
 " It was his humour," said he. " He walked 
 into society through it, and that was better worth 
 reaching than Jerusalem. There's Lord Peter- 
 sham, the man with the beaky nose. He always 
 rises at six in the evening, and he owns the finest 
 cellar of snuff in Europe. He's talking to Lord 
 Panmure, who can take his six bottles of claret 
 and argue with a bishop after it. — Evening, Dud- 
 ley ! " 
 
164 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Evening, Tregellis ! " An elderly, vacant- 
 looking man had stopped before us and was look- 
 ing me up and down. " Some young cub Charlie 
 Tregellis has caught in the country," he mur- 
 mured. " He doesn't look as if he would be 
 much credit to him. — Been out of town, Tre- 
 gellis?" 
 
 " For a few days." 
 
 " Hera ! " said the man, transferring his sleepy 
 gaze to my uncle. " He's looking pretty bad. 
 He'll be going into the country feet foremost 
 some of these days if he doesn't pull up ! " He 
 nodded, and passed on. 
 
 " You mustn't look so mortified, nephew," 
 said my uncle, laughing. " That's old Lord 
 Dudley, and he has a trick of thinking aloud. 
 People used to be offended, but they take no 
 notice of him now. It was only last week, when 
 he was dining at Lord Elgin's, that he apologized 
 to the company for the shocking bad cooking. 
 He thought he was at his own table, you see. 
 It gives him a place of his own in society. 
 That's Lord Harewood he has fastened onto 
 now. Harewood's peculiarity is to mimic the 
 prince in everything. One day the prince hid 
 his queue behind the collar of his coat, so 
 Harewood cut his off, thinking that they were 
 going out of fashion. Here's Lumley, the ugly 
 
WATIER'S. 165 
 
 man. ' L'homme laid ' they called him in Paris. 
 The other one is Lord Foley — they call him No. 
 II, on account of his thin legs." 
 
 " There is Mr. Brummel, sir," said I. 
 
 " Yes, he'll come to us presently. That 
 young man has certainly a future before him. 
 Do you observe the way in which he looks round 
 the room from under his drooping eyelids, as 
 though it were a condescension that he should 
 have entered it ? Small conceits are intolerable, 
 but when they are pushed to the uttermost they 
 become respectable. — How do, George?" 
 
 " Have you heard about Vereker Merton ? " 
 asked Brummel, strolling up with one or two 
 other exquisites at his heels. " He has run away 
 with his father's woman cook, and actually mar- 
 ried her ! " 
 
 " What did Lord Merton do ? " 
 
 " He congratulated him warmly, and confessed 
 that he had always underrated his intelligence. 
 He is to live with the young couple, and make 
 a handsome allowance, on condition that the bride 
 sticks to her old duties. By the way, there 
 was a rumour that you were about to marry, 
 Tregellis?" 
 
 " I think not," answered my uncle. " It would 
 be a mistake to overwhelm one by attentions 
 which are a pleasure to many." 
 
1 66 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " My view exactly, and very neatly expressed," 
 cried Brummel. " Is it fair to break a dozen 
 hearts in order to intoxicate one writh rapture ? 
 I'm off to the continent next week." 
 
 " Bailiffs ? " asked one of his companions. 
 
 " Too bad, Pierrepoint. No, no, it is pleasure 
 and instruction combined. Besides, it is necessary 
 to go to Paris for your little things, and if there 
 is a chance of war breaking out again it would 
 be well to lay in a supply." 
 
 " Quite right," said my uncle, who seemed to 
 have made up his mind to outdo Brummel 
 in extravagance. " I used to get my sulphur- 
 coloured gloves from the Palace Royal. When 
 the war broke out in '93 I was cut off from them 
 for nine years. Had it not been for a lugger, 
 which I specially hired to smuggle them, I 
 might have been reduced to English tan." 
 
 " The English are excellent at a flatiron or a 
 kitchen poker," said Brummel, " but anything 
 more delicate is beyond them." 
 
 " Our tailors are good," cried my uncle, " but 
 our stuSs lack taste and variety. The war has 
 made us more rococo than ever. It has cut us 
 off from travel, and there is nothing like travel 
 for expanding the mind. Last year, for example, 
 I came upon some new waistcoating in the square 
 of San Marco at Venice. It was yellow, with 
 
WATIER'S. 
 
 167 
 
 the prettiest little twill of pink running through 
 it. How could I have seen it had I not travelled ! 
 I brought it back with me, and for a time it was 
 all the rage." 
 
 " The prince took it up." 
 
 " Yes, he usually follows my lead. We dressed 
 so alike last year that we were frequently mis- 
 taken for each other. It tells against me, but so 
 it was. He often complains that things do not 
 look as well upon him as upon me, but how can 
 I make the obvious reply ? By the way, George, 
 I did not see you at the Marchioness of Dover's 
 ball." 
 
 " Yes, I was there, and lingered for a quarter 
 of an hour or so. I am surprised that you did 
 not see me. I did not go past the doorway, 
 however, for undue preference gives rise to 
 jealousy." 
 
 " I went early," said my uncle, " for I had 
 heard that there jvere to be some tolerable debu- 
 tantes. It always pleases me vastly when I am 
 able to pass a compliment to any of them. It has 
 happened, but not often, for I keep to my own 
 standard." 
 
 So they talked, these singular men, and I, 
 looking from one to the other, could not imagine 
 how they could help bursting out a-laughing in 
 each other's faces. But, on the contrary, their 
 
l68 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 conversation was very grave and filled out with 
 many little bows, and opening and shutting of 
 snuffboxes and flickings of laced handkerchiefs. 
 
 Quite a crowd had gathered silently round, 
 and I could see that the talk had been regarded 
 as a contest between two men who were looked 
 upon as rival arbiters of fashion. It was finished 
 by the Duke of Queensberry passing his arm 
 through Brummel's and leading him off, while 
 my uncle threw out his laced cambric shirt front 
 and shot his rufHes as if he were well satisfied 
 with his share in the encounter. It is seven and 
 forty years since I looked upon that circle of 
 dandies, and where now are their dainty little 
 hats, their wonderful waistcoats, and their boots 
 in which one could arrange one's cravat ? They 
 lived strange lives, these men, and died strange 
 deaths, some by their own hands, some as beg- 
 gars, some in a debtor's jail, some, like the most 
 brilliant of them all, in a madhouse in a foreign 
 land. 
 
 " There is the card room, Rodney," said my 
 uncle, as we passed an open door on our way out. 
 Glancing in I saw a line of little green baize 
 tables, with small groups of men sitting round, 
 while at one side was a longer one from which 
 there came a continuous murmur of voices. " You 
 may lose what you like in there save only your 
 
^z/zr 
 
 '' Lost like the devil ' " he snapped. 
 
WATIER'S. 169 
 
 nerve or your temper," my uncle continued. — 
 Ah, Sir Lothian, I trust that luck was with 
 you." 
 
 A tall, thin man, with a hard, austere face had 
 stepped out of the open doorway. His heavily 
 thatched eyebrows covered quick little gray 
 eyes, and his gaunt features were hollowed at the 
 cheek and temple like water-grooved flint. He 
 was dressed entirely in black, and I noticed that 
 his shoulder swayed a little as if he had been 
 drinking. " Lost like the devil ! " he snapped. 
 
 " Dice ? " 
 
 "No; whist." 
 
 " You couldn't get very hard hit over that ! " 
 
 " Couldn't you ? " he snarled. " Play a hun- 
 dred a trick and a thousand on the rub and lose 
 steadily for five hours, and see what you think 
 of it." 
 
 My uncle was evidently struck by the haggard 
 look on the other's face. 
 
 " I hope it's not very bad," he said. 
 
 " Bad enough. It won't bear talking about. 
 By the way, Tregellis, have you got your man 
 for this fight yet?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You seem to be hanging in the wind a long 
 time. It's play or pay, you know. I shall claim 
 forfeit if you don't come to the scratch." 
 
170 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " If you will name your day, I shall produce 
 my man, Sir Lothian," said my uncle coldly. 
 " This day four weeks if you like." 
 " Very good. Eighteenth of May." 
 " I hope to have changed my name by then." 
 " How is that ? " asked my uncle, in surprise. 
 " It is just possible that I may be Lord Avon." 
 "What! you have had some news?" cried 
 my uncle ; and I noticed a tremor in his voice. 
 
 " I've had my agent over at Montevideo, and 
 he believes he has proof that Avon died there. 
 Anyhow, it is absurd to suppose that because a 
 
 murderer chooses to fly from justice " 
 
 " I won't have you use that word. Sir Lothian," 
 cried my uncle, sharply. 
 
 " You were there, as I was. You know that 
 he was a murderer." 
 
 " I tell you that you shall not say so." 
 Sir Lothian's fierce little gray eyes had to 
 lower themselves before the imperious anger 
 which shone in my uncle's. 
 
 " Well, to let that point pass, it is monstrous 
 to suppose that the title and the estates can re- 
 main hung up in this way forever. I'm the heir, 
 Tregellis, and, by God, I'm going to have my 
 rights ! " 
 
 " I am, as you are aware. Lord Avon's dearest 
 friend," said my uncle sternly ; " his disappear- 
 
WATIER'S. 
 
 171 
 
 ance has not affected my love for him, and until 
 his fate is finally ascertained I shall exert myself 
 to see that his rights also are respected." 
 
 " His rights would be a long drop and a 
 cracked spine," Sir Lothian answered, and then, 
 changing his manner suddenly, he laid his hand 
 upon my uncle's sleeve. 
 
 " Come, come, Tregellis, I was his friend as 
 well as you," said he ; " but we can not alter the 
 facts, and it is rather late in the day for us to fall 
 out over them. Your invitation holds good for 
 Friday night." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " I shall bring Crab Wilson with me, and final- 
 ly arrange the conditions of our little wager." 
 
 " Very good. Sir Lothian ! I shall hope to see 
 you." 
 
 They bowed, and my uncle stood for a little 
 time looking after him as he made his way amid 
 the crowd. 
 
 "A good sportsman, nephew," said he. "A 
 bold rider, the best pistol-shot in England, but 
 a dangerous man ! " 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE MEN OF THE RING. 
 
 It was at the end of my first week in London 
 that my uncle gave a supper to the fancy, as was 
 usual for gentlemen of that time if they wished to 
 figure before the public as Corinthians and pa- 
 trons of sport. He had invited not only the chief 
 fighting men of the day, but also those men of 
 fashion who were most interested in the ring, Mr. 
 Fletcher Reid, Lord Saye and Sele, Sir Lothian 
 Hume, Sir John Lade, Colonel Montgomery, Sir 
 Thomas Apreece, the Honourable Berkeley Cra- 
 ven, and many more. The rumour that the 
 prince was to be present had already spread 
 through the clubs, and invitations were eagerly 
 sought after. 
 
 The Wagon and Horses was a well-known 
 sporting house with an old prize-fighter for land- 
 lord, and the arrangements were as primitive as 
 the most Bohemian could wish. It was one of 
 
 the many curious fashions which have now died 
 
 172 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 173 
 
 out, that men who were blas^ from luxury and 
 high living seemed to find a fresh piquancy in life 
 by descending to the lowest resorts, so that the 
 night houses and gambling hells in Covent Garden 
 or the Haymarket often gathered illustrious com- 
 pany under their smoke-blackened ceilings. It 
 was a change for them to turn their backs upon 
 the cooking of Weltjie and of Ude, or the Cham- 
 bertin of old Q, and to dine upon a porterhouse 
 steak washed down by a pint of ale from a pew- 
 ter pot. 
 
 A rough crowd had assembled in the street to 
 see the fighting men go in, and my uncle warned 
 me to look to my pockets as we pushed our way 
 through it. Within was a large room with faded 
 red curtains, a sanded floor, and walls which were 
 covered with prints of pugilists and racehorses. 
 Brown liquor-stained tables were dotted about in 
 it, and round one of these half a dozen formidable- 
 looking men were seated, while one, the roughest 
 of all, was perched upon the table itself, swinging 
 his legs to and fro. A tray of small glasses and 
 pewter mugs stood beside them. 
 
 " The boys were thirsty, sir, so I brought up 
 some ale and some liptrap>" whispered the land- 
 lord. " I thought you would have no objec- 
 tion, sir." 
 
 " Quite right. Bob ! — How are you all ? — How 
 
174 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 are you, Maddox ? — How are you, Baldwin ? — Ah, 
 Belcher, I am very glad to see you." 
 
 The fighting men all rose and took their hats 
 off, except the fellow on the table, who continued 
 to swing his legs and to look my uncle coolly in 
 the face. 
 
 " How are you, Berks ? " 
 
 " Pretty tidy. 'Ow are you ? " 
 
 " Say ' sir ' when you speak to a gentleman," 
 said Belcher, and with a sudden tilt of the table 
 he sent Berks sliding almost into my uncle's arms. 
 
 " See, now, Jim, none o' that," said Berks, 
 sulkily. 
 
 " I'll learn you manners, Joe, which is more 
 than ever your father did. You're not drinkin' 
 Black Jack in a boozin' ken, but you are meetin' 
 noble, slap-up Corinthians, and it's for you to be- 
 have as such." 
 
 " I've always been reckoned a gen'elmanlike 
 sort o' man," said Berks, thickly, " but if so be as 
 I've said or done what I 'adn't ought to " 
 
 " There, there, Berks, that's all right ! " cried 
 my uncle, only too anxious to smooth things over 
 and to prevent a quarrel at the outset of the 
 evening. " Here are some more of our friends. — ■ 
 How are you, Apreece ? — How are you, colonel ? 
 — Well, Jackson, you are looking vastly better. — 
 Good evening. Lade. 1 trust Lady Lade was 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 175 
 
 none the worse for our pleasant drive.— Ah, Men- 
 doza, you look fit enough to throw your hat over 
 the ropes this instant.— Sir Lothian, I am glad 
 to see you. You will find some old friends 
 here." 
 
 Amid the stream of Corinthians and fighting 
 men who were thronging into the room I had 
 caught a glimpse of the sturdy figure and broad, 
 good-humoured face of Champion Harrison. The 
 sight of him was like a whiff of South Down air 
 coming into that low-roofed, oil-smelling room, 
 and I ran forward to shake him by the hand. 
 
 " Why, Master Rodney — or I should say Mr. 
 Stone, I suppose — you have changed out of all 
 knowledge. I can't believe that it was really you 
 that used to come down to blow the bellows when 
 Boy Jim and I were at the anvil. Well, you are 
 fine, to be sure ! " 
 
 "What's the news at Friar's Oak?" I asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Your father was down to chat with me, 
 Master Rodney, and he tells me that the war is 
 going to break out, and that he hopes to see you 
 here in London before many days are past, for he 
 is coming up to see Lord Nelson and to make in- 
 quiry about a ship. Your mother is well, and I 
 saw her in church on Sunday." 
 
 " And Boy Jim ? " 
 
176 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Champion Harrison's good-humoured face 
 clouded over. 
 
 " He'd set his heart very much on coming 
 here to-night, but there w^ere reasons vi^hy I 
 didn't wish him to, and so there's a shadow be- 
 twixt us. It's the first that ever was, and I feel 
 it, Master Rodney. Between ourselves, I have 
 very good reason to wish him to stay with me, 
 and I am sure that, with his high spirit and his 
 ideas, he would never settle down again after 
 once he had a taste o' London. I left him be- 
 behind me with enough work to keep him busy 
 until I get back to him." 
 
 A tall and beautifully proportioned man, very 
 elegantly dressed, was strolling toward us. He 
 stared in surprise and held out his hand to my 
 companion. 
 
 " Why, Jack Harrison ! " he cried. " This is 
 a resurrection. Where in the world did you 
 come from?" 
 
 " Glad to see you, Jackson," said my com- 
 panion. " You look as well and as young as 
 ever." 
 
 " Thank you, yes. I resigned the belt when 
 I could get no one to fight me for it, and I took 
 to teaching." 
 
 " I'm doing smith's work down Sussex way." 
 
 " I've often wondered you never had a. shy at 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 177 
 
 my belt. I tell you honestly, between man and 
 man, I'm very glad you didn't." 
 
 " Well, it's real good of you to say that, Jack- 
 son. I might have done it, perhaps, but the old 
 woman was against it. She's been a good wife 
 to me, and I can't go against her. But I feel a 
 bit lonesome here, for these boys are all since 
 my time." 
 
 " You could do some of them over now," said 
 Jackson, feeling my friend's upper arm. " No 
 better bit of stuff was ever seen in a twenty-four- 
 foot ring. It would be a rare treat to see you 
 take some of these young ones on. Won't you 
 let me spring you on them ? " 
 
 Harrison's eyes glistened at the idea, but he 
 shook his head. 
 
 " It won't do, Jackson. My old woman holds 
 my promise. That's Belcher, ain't it — the good- 
 looking chap with the flash coat?" 
 
 " Yes, that's Jem. You've not seen him ! 
 He's a jewel." 
 
 " So I've heard. Who's the youngster beside 
 him ? He looks a tidy chap." 
 
 " That's a new man from the west. Crab 
 Wilson's his name." 
 
 Champion Harrison looked at him curiously. 
 " I've heard of him," said he. " They are getting 
 a match on for him, ain't they ? " 
 
178 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Yes. Sir Lothian Hume, the thin-faced 
 gentleman over yonder, has backed him against 
 Sir Charles Tregellis's man. We're to hear about 
 the match to-night. I understand Jem Belcher 
 thinks great things of Crab Wilson. There's 
 Belcher's young brother Tom. He's looking out 
 for a match, too. They say he's quicker than 
 Jem with the mufflers, but he can't hit as hard. — 
 I was speaking of your brother, Jem." 
 
 " The young 'un will make his way," said 
 Belcher, who had come across to us. " He's 
 more a sparrer than a fighter just at present, 
 but when his gristle sets he'll take on anything 
 on the list. Bristol's as .full o' young fightin' 
 men as a bin is o' bottles. We've got two more 
 comin' up. Gully and Pearce, who'll make you 
 London milling coves wish they was back in the 
 west country again." 
 
 " Here's the prince," said Jackson, as a hum 
 and bustle rose from the door. 
 
 I saw George come bustling in with a good- 
 humoured smile upon his comely face. My uncle 
 welcomed him, and led some of the Corinthians 
 up to be presented. 
 
 " We'll have trouble, gov'nor," said Belcher 
 to Jackson. " Here's Joe Berks drinkin' gin out 
 of a mug, and you know what a swine he is when 
 he's drunk." 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 
 
 179 
 
 " You must put a stopper on him, gov'nor," 
 said several of the other prize-fighters. " He 
 ain't what you call a charmer when he's 
 sober, but there's no standin' him when he's 
 fresh." 
 
 Jackson, on account of his prowess, and of the 
 tact which he possessed, had been chosen as gen- 
 eral regulator of the whole prize-fighting body, 
 by whom he was usually alluded to as the com- 
 mander-in-chief. He and Belcher went across 
 now to the table upon which Berks was still 
 perched. The ruffian's face was already flushed, 
 and his eyes heavy and bloodshot. 
 
 " You must keep yourself in hand to-night, 
 Berks," said Jackson. " The prince is here, 
 and " 
 
 " I never set eyes on 'im yet," cried Berks, 
 . lurching off the table. " Where is 'e, gov'nor ? 
 Tell 'im Joe Berks would like to do hisself proud 
 by shakin' 'im by the 'and." 
 
 " No, you don't, Joe," said Jackson, laying his 
 hand upon Berks's chest, as he tried to push his 
 way through the crowd. " You've got to keep 
 your place, Joe, or we'll put you where you can 
 make all the noise you like." 
 
 " Where's that, gov'nor?" 
 
 " Into the street through the window. We're 
 going to have a peaceful evening, as Jem Belcher 
 
I So RODNEY STONE. 
 
 and I will show you if you get up to any of your 
 Whitechapel games." 
 
 " No 'arm, gov'nor," grumbled Berks. " I'm 
 sure I've always 'ad the name of being a- very 
 gen'elmanlike man." 
 
 " So I've always said, Joe Berks, and mind you 
 prove yourself such. But the supper is ready for 
 us, and there's the prince and Lord Sele going in. 
 — Two and two, lads, and don't forget whose 
 company you are in." 
 
 The supper was laid in a large room with 
 Union Jacks and mottoes hung thickly upon the 
 walls. The tables were arranged in three sides 
 of a square, my uncle occupying the centre of the 
 principal one, with the prince upon his right and 
 Lord Sele upon his left. By his wise precaution 
 the seats had been allotted beforehand, so that 
 the gentlemen might be scattered among the pro- 
 fessionals and no risk run of two enemies finding 
 themselves together, or a man who had been re- 
 cently beaten falling into the company of his con- 
 queror. For my own part, I had Champion Har- 
 rison upon one side of me and a short, florid-faced 
 man upon the other, who whispered to me that 
 he was " Bill Warr, landlord of the One Tun 
 public house of Jermyn Street, and one of the 
 gamest men upon the list." 
 
 " It's my flesh that's beat me, sir," said he. 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. i8l 
 
 " It creeps over me amazin' fast. I should fight 
 at thirteen-eight, and 'ere I am nearly seventeen. 
 It's the business that does it. What with loUin' 
 about behind the bar all day, and bein' afraid to 
 refuse a wet for fear of offendin' a customer. It's 
 been the ruin of many a good fighting man be- 
 fore me."^ 
 
 " You should take to my job," said Harrison. 
 " I'm a smith by trade, and I've not put on half a 
 stone in fifteen years." 
 
 " Some take to one thing and some to another, 
 but the most of us try to have a bar parlor of our 
 own. There's Will Wood that I beat in forty 
 rounds in the middle of a snowstorm down Nave- 
 stock way. He drives a 'ackney. Young Firby, 
 the ruffian, he's a waiter now. Dick Humphries 
 sells coals — he was always of a gentlemanly dis- 
 position. George Inglestone is a brewer's dray- 
 man. We all find our own cribs. But there's 
 one thing you are saved by livin' in the country, 
 and that is havin' the young Corinthians and 
 bloods about town smackin' you eternally in the 
 face." 
 
 This was the last inconvenience which I should 
 have expected a famous prize-fighter to be sub- 
 jected to, but several bull-faced fellows at the 
 other side of the table nodded their concur- 
 rence. 
 
1 82 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " You're right, Bill, " said one of them. 
 " There's no one has had more trouble with them 
 than I have. In they come of an evenin' into my 
 bar, with the wine in their heads. ' Are you Tom 
 Owen the Bruiser?' says one o' them. 'At your 
 service, sir,' says I. ' Take that, then,' says he, 
 and it's a clip on the nose, or a backhanded slap 
 across the chops as likely as not. Then they can 
 brag all their lives that they had hit Tom Owen." 
 
 " D' you draw their cork in return ?" 
 
 " I argey it out with them. I say to them, 
 ' Now, gents, fightin' is my profession, and I don't 
 fight for love any more than a doctor doctors for 
 love or a butcher gives away a loin chop. Put 
 up a small purse, master, and I'll do you over, 
 and proud. But don't expect that you'fe goin' 
 to come here and get knocked about by a middle- 
 weight champion for nothing.' " 
 
 " That's my way, too, Tom," said my burly 
 neighbour. " If they put down a guinea on the 
 counter, which they do if they have been drink- 
 in' very heavy, I give them what I think is about 
 a guinea's worth and take the money." 
 
 "But if they don't?" 
 
 " Why, then it's a common assault, d'ye see, 
 against the body of his Majesty's liege, William 
 Warr, and I has 'em before the beak next morn- 
 in', and it's a week or twenty shillin's." 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 183 
 
 Meanwhile the supper was in full swing — one 
 of those solid and uncompromising meals which 
 prevailed in the days of your grandfathers, and 
 which may explain to some of you why you 
 never set eyes upon that relative. Great rounds 
 of beef, saddles of mutton, smoking tongues, veal 
 and ham pies, turkeys and chickens and geese, 
 with every variety of vegetables, and a succes- 
 sion of fiery sherries and heavy ales, were the 
 main staple of the feast. 
 
 It was the same meal and the same cooking as 
 their Norse or German ancestors might have sat 
 down to fourteen centuries before, and indeed, as 
 I looked through the steam of the dishes at the 
 lines of fierce and rugged faces, and the mighty 
 shoulders which rounded themselves over the 
 board, I could have imagined myself at one of 
 those old-world carousals of which I had read, 
 where the savage company gnawed the joints to 
 the bone, and then with murderous horse-play 
 hurled the remains at their prisoners. Here and 
 there the pale aquiline features of a sporting Co- 
 rinthian recalled rather the Norman type, but in 
 the main these stolid, heavy-jowled faces, belong- 
 ing to men whose whole life was a battle, were 
 the nearest suggestion which we have had in 
 modern times of those fierce pirates and rovers 
 from whose loins we have sprung. 
 13 
 
1 84 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 And yet as I looked carefully from man to 
 man in the line which faced me, I could see 
 that the English, although they were ten to one, 
 had not the game entirely to themselves, but that 
 other races had shown that they could produce 
 fighting men worthy to rank with the best. 
 There were, it is true, no finer or braver men 
 in the room than Jackson and Jem Belcher, the 
 one with his magnificent figure, his small waist 
 and herculean shoulders, the other as graceful as 
 an old Grecian statue, with a head whose beauty 
 many. a sculptor had wished to copy, and with 
 those long, delicate lines in shoulder and loins 
 and limbs which gave him the litheness and 
 activity of a panther. Already as I looked at 
 him, it seemed to me that there was a shadow 
 of tragedy upon his face, a forecast of the day 
 then but a few months distant, when a blow from 
 a racquet ball darkened the sight of one eye 
 forever. Had he stopped there with his un- 
 beaten career behind him, then indeed the even- 
 ing of his life might have been as glorious as 
 its dawn. But his proud heart could not per- 
 mit his title to be torn from him without a 
 struggle. If even now you can read how the 
 gallant fellow, unable with his one eye to judge 
 his distances, fought for thirty-five minutes 
 against his young and most formidable op- 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 185 
 
 ponent, and how in the bitterness of defeat he was 
 heard only to express his sorrow for a friend 
 who had backed him with all he possessed, and 
 if you are not touched by the story, there must 
 be something wanting in you which should go to 
 the making of a man. 
 
 But if there were no men at the tables who 
 could have held their own against Jackson or 
 Jem Belcher, there were others of a different 
 race and type who had qualities which made 
 them dangerous bruisers. A little way down 
 the table I saw the black face and woolly head 
 of Bill Richmond, in a purple and gold, foot- 
 man's livery — destined to be the predecessor of 
 Molyneux, Sutton, and all that line of black 
 boxers, who have shown that the muscular power 
 and insensibility to pain which distinguish the 
 African gave him a peculiar advantage in the 
 sports of the ring. He could boast also of the 
 higher honour of having been the first born 
 American to win laurels in the British ring. 
 There also I saw the keen features of Dan 
 Mendoza, the Jew, just returned from active 
 work, and leaving behind him a reputation for 
 elegance and perfect science which has to this 
 day never been exceeded. 
 
 The worst fault that the critics could find 
 with him was that there was a want of power 
 
Igg RODNEY STONE. 
 
 in his blows — a remark which certainly could 
 not have been made about his neighbour, whose 
 long face, curved nose, and dark, flashing eyes 
 proclaimed him as a member of the same an- 
 cient race. This was the formidable Dutch 
 Sam, who fought at nine stone six, and yet 
 possessed such hitting powers that his admirers 
 in after years were willing to back him against 
 the fourteen-stone Tom Cribb, if each were 
 strapped a-straddle to a bench. Half a dozen 
 other sallow Hebrew faces showed how ener- 
 getically the Jews of Houndsditch and White- 
 chapel had taken to the sport of the land of 
 their adoption, and that in this, as in more 
 serious fields of human effort, they could hold 
 their own with the best. 
 
 It was my neighbour Warr who very good- 
 humouredly pointed out to me all these celeb- 
 rities, the echoes of whose fame had been 
 wafted down even to our little Sussex village. 
 
 " There's Andrew Gamble, the Irish cham- 
 pion," said he. " It was 'e that beat Noah James, 
 the guardsman, and was afterward nearly killed 
 by Jem Belcher in the 'oUow of Wimbledon Com- 
 mon by Abbershaw's gibbet. The two that sit 
 next him are Irish also — Jack O'Donnell and Bill 
 Ryan. When you get a good Irishman you can't 
 better 'em, but they're dreadful 'asty. That little 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 187 
 
 cove with the leery face is Caleb Baldwin the 
 coster, 'im that they call the pride of Westmin- 
 ster. He is but five foot seven, and nine stone 
 five, but he's got the 'eart of a giant. 'E's never 
 been beat, and there ain't a man within a stone of 
 'im that could beat 'im, except only Dutch Sam. 
 There's George Maddox, too, another o' the same 
 breed, and as good a man as ever pulled his coat 
 off. The gentlemanlike man that eats with a fork, 
 'im what looks like a Corinthian, only that the 
 bridge of 'is nose ain't quite what it ought to be, 
 that's Dick Humphries, the same that was cock of 
 the middle-weights until Mendoza cut his comb 
 for him. You see the other with the gray 'ead 
 and the scars on his face ? " 
 
 "Why, it's old Tom Faulkner, the cricketer!" 
 cried Harrison, following the line of Bill Warr's 
 stubby forefinget-. " He's the best bowler in the 
 Midlands, and at his best there weren't many 
 boxers in England that could stand up against 
 him." 
 
 " You're right there," Jack Harrison. " He 
 was one of the three who came up to fight when 
 the best men of Birmingham challenged the best 
 men of London, He's an evergreen, is Tom. 
 Why, he was turned five and fifty when he chal- 
 lenged and beat, after fifty minutes of it, Jack 
 Thornhill, who was tough enough to take it out 
 
1 88 ROCNEY STONE. 
 
 of many a youngster. It's better to give odds in 
 weight than in years." 
 
 " Youth will be served," said a crooning voice 
 from the other side of the table. " Ay, masters, 
 youth will be served." 
 
 The man who had spoken was the most ex- 
 traordinary of all the many curious figures in the 
 room. He was very old, so old that he was past 
 all comparison, and no one, by looking at his 
 mummy skin and fishlike eyes, could give a guess 
 at his years. 
 
 A few scanty gray hairs still hung about his 
 yellow scalp. As to his features, they were 
 scarcely human in their disfigurement, for the 
 deep wrinkles and pouchings of extreme age had 
 been added to a face which had always been 
 grotesquely ugly, and had been crushed and 
 bruised, in addition, by many a blow. I had no- 
 ticed this creature at the beginning of the meal, 
 leaning his chest against the edge of the table, as 
 if its support was a welcome one, and feebly pick- 
 ing at the food which was placed before him. 
 Gradually, however, as his neighbours plied him 
 with drink, his shoulders grew squarer, his back 
 stiffened, his eyes brightened, and he looked 
 about him with an air of surprise at first, as if he 
 had no clear recollection of how he came there, 
 and afterward with an expression of deepening 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 189 
 
 interest as he listened with his ear scooped up in 
 his hand to the conversation around him. 
 
 " That's old Buckhorse," whispered Champion 
 Harrison. " He was just the same as that when 
 I joined the ring three and twenty years ago. 
 Time was when he was the terror of London." 
 
 " He was so," said Bill Warn " 'E would 
 fight like a stag, and 'e was that 'ard that 'e 
 would let any swell knock him down for 'alf a 
 crown, 'E 'ad no face to spoil, d'ye see, for he 
 was always the ugliest man in England. But 'e's 
 been on the shelf now for near sixty years, and it 
 cost him many a beatin' before he could under- 
 stand that his strength was slippin' away from 
 him." 
 
 " Youth will be served, masters," droned the 
 old man, shaking his head miserably. 
 
 " Fill up 'is glass," said Warn " Here, Tom, 
 give old Buckhorse a sup o' liptrap. Warm his 
 old 'eart for 'im." 
 
 The old man poured a glass of neat, gin down 
 his shrivelled throat, and the effect upon him was 
 extraordinary. A light glimmered in each of his 
 dull eyes, a tinge of colour came into his waxlike 
 cheeks, and, opening his toothless mouth, he sud- 
 denly emitted a peculiar bell-like and most musi- 
 cal cry. A hoarse roar of laughter from all the 
 company answered it, and flushed faces craned 
 
I go RODNEY STONE. 
 
 over each other to catch a glimpse of the vet- 
 eran. 
 
 " There's Buckhorse ! " they cried. " Buck- 
 horse is comin' round again." 
 
 " You can laugh if you will, masters," he cried, 
 in his Lewkner Lane dialect, holding up his two 
 thin, vein-covered hands. " It won't be long that 
 you'll be able to see my crooks vich 'ave been 
 on Fig's conk and on Jack Broughton's, and on 
 Harry Gray's and on many another good fightin' 
 man that was millin' for a livin' before your fa- 
 thers could eat pap." 
 
 The company laughed again, and encouraged 
 the old man by half-derisive, half-affectionate 
 cries. 
 
 " Let 'em 'ave it, Buckhorse ! Give it 'em 
 straight ! Tell us how the millin' coves did it in 
 your time." 
 
 The old gladiator looked round him in great 
 contempt. 
 
 " Vy, from what I see," he cried, in his high 
 broken treble, " there's some of you that ain't fit to 
 flick a fly from a joint o' meat. You'd make wery 
 good ladies' maids, the most o' you, but you 
 took the wrong turnin' ven you came into the 
 ring." 
 
 " Give 'im a wipe over the mouth ! " said a 
 hoarse voice. 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. igi 
 
 " Joe Berks," said Jackson, " I'd save the hang- 
 man the job of breaking your neck if his Royal 
 Highness wasn't in the room." 
 
 " That's as it may be, gov'nor," said the half- 
 drunken ruffian, staggering to his feet. " If I've 
 said anything what isn't gen'elmanlike " 
 
 " Sit down, Berks ! " cried my uncle, with such 
 a tone of command that the fellow collapsed into 
 his chair. 
 
 " Vy, vich of you could look Jack Slack in the 
 face ? " piped the old fellow, " or Jack Broughton, 
 him vot told the old Dook o' Cumberland that all 
 he vanted was to fight the King o' Proosia's guard, 
 day by day, year in and year out, until 'e 'ad 
 worked out the whole regiment of 'em, and the 
 smallest of 'em six foot long? There's not 
 more'n a few of you could 'it a dint in a pat o' 
 butter, and if you gets a smack or two it's all over 
 with you. Vich among you could get up again 
 after such a vipe as the Eytalian Gondoleery cove 
 gave to Bob Vittaker? " 
 
 " What was that, Buckhorse ? " cried several 
 voices. 
 
 " 'E came over 'ere from voreign parts, and 'e 
 was so broad 'e 'ad to come edgewise through 
 the doors. 'E 'ad to, upon my davy ! 'E was that 
 strong that whenever 'e 'it the bone 'ad got to go, 
 and when 'e'd cracked a jaw or two it looked as 
 
ig2 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 though nothing in the country could stan' against 
 'im. So the king 'e sent one of his genelmen 
 down to Fig, and he said to him, ' 'Ere's a cove 
 vot cracks a bone every time he lets vly, and it'll 
 be little credit to the Lunnon boys if they lets 'im 
 get away without a vacking.' So Fig he ups and 
 he says, ' I do not know, master, but he may break 
 one of his countrymen's jawbones vid his vist, 
 but I'll bring him a Cockney lad and he shall not 
 be able to break his jawbone with a sledge ham- 
 mer.' I was with Fig in Slaughter's cofEee house, 
 as then was, ven he says this to the king's genel- 
 raan, and I goes so, I does ! " Again he emitted 
 the curious bell-like cry, and again the Corin- 
 thians and the fighting men laughed and ap- 
 plauded him. 
 
 " His Royal Highness — that is, the Earl of 
 Chester — would be glad to hear the end of your 
 story, Buckhorse," said my uncle, to whom the 
 prince had been whispering. 
 
 " Veil, your ryal 'ighness, it was like this : 
 Ven the day came round all the volk came to 
 Fig's amphitheatre, the same that was in Totten- 
 ham Court, an' Bob Vittaker 'e was there, and 
 the Eytalian Gondoleery cove 'e was there, and 
 all the perlitest, gentellest crowd that ever vos, 
 twenty thousand of 'em, all sittin' with their 'eads 
 like purtaties on a barrer, banked right up round 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 
 
 193 
 
 the stage, and me there to pick up Bob, d'ye 
 see, and Jack Fig 'imself just for fair play, to do 
 vat was right by the cove from voreign parts. 
 They vos packed all round, the folks was, but down 
 through the middle of 'em was a passage, just so 
 as the gentry could come through to their seats, 
 and the stage it was of wood, as the custom then 
 was, and a man's 'ight above the 'eads of the 
 people. 
 
 " Veil, then, ven Bob was put up opposite this 
 great Eytalian man I says, ' Slap 'im in the vind. 
 Bob,' 'cos I could see vid 'alf an eye that he was as 
 puffy as a cheesecake, so Bob he goes in, and as 
 he comes the voriner let 'im 'ave it amazin' on 
 the conk. I 'eard the thump of it, and I kind o' 
 velt somethin' vistle past me, but ven I looked 
 there was the Eytalian a feelin' of his muscles in 
 the middle o' the stage, and as to Bob there 
 weren't no sign of 'im at all, no more'n if he'd 
 never been." 
 
 His audience were riveted by the old prize- 
 fighter's story. " Well," cried a dozen voices, 
 " what then, Buckhorse ; 'ad 'e swallowed 'im, or 
 what?" 
 
 " Veil, boys, that was vot I wondered, when 
 sudden I seed two legs a-stickin' up out o' the 
 crowd a long vay off, just like these two vingers, 
 d'ye see, and I knowed they was Bob's legs, 
 
194 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 seein' that 'e 'ad kind o' yellow small-clothes vid 
 blue ribbons — vich blue was his color — at the knee. 
 So they upended 'im, they did, an' they made 
 a lane for 'im and cheered 'ira to give 'im 'eart, 
 though he never lacked for that. At first 'e was 
 that dazed that 'e didn't know if 'e was in church 
 or in 'Orsmonger jail, but yen I'd bit 'is two 
 ears he shook 'isself together. * Ve'll try it again, 
 Buck,' says 'e. ' The mark,' says I. And 'e 
 vinked all that was left o' one eye. So the Ey- 
 talian he lets swing again, but Bob 'e jumps in- 
 side and 'e lets 'im 'ave it plumb square on the 
 meat safe, as 'ard as ever the Lord would let 'im 
 put it in." 
 
 " Well ? well ? " 
 
 " Veil, the Eytalian got a touch o' the gurgles 
 an' 'e shut himself right up like a two-foot rule. 
 Then 'e pulled 'imself straight an' 'e gave the 
 most awful glory allelujah screech as ever you 
 'card. Off he jumps from the stage and down the 
 passage as 'ard as 'is 'oofs would carry 'im. Up 
 jumps the 'ole crowd, and after 'im as 'a^d as they 
 could move for laughin'. They was lyin' in the 
 kennel three deep all down Tottenham Court 
 road, wid their 'ands to their sides just vit to 
 break themselves in two. Veil, we chased 'ira 
 down 'Olburn an* down Fleet Street an' down 
 Cheapside, an' past the 'Change and on all the 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 
 
 19s 
 
 way to Wapping, an' we only catched 'im in the 
 shippin' office, 'vere 'e was askin' 'ow soon 'e 
 could get a passage to voreign parts." 
 
 There was much laughter and clapping of 
 glasses on the table at the conclusion of old 
 Buckhorse's story, and I saw the,'Trince of Wales 
 hand something to the waiter, ^'ho brought it 
 round and slipped it into the skinny hand of the 
 veteran, who spat upon it before thrusting it into 
 his pocket. The table had, in the meantime, been 
 cleared, and was now studded with bottles and 
 glasses, while long clay pipes and tobacco boxes 
 were handed round. My uncle never smoked, 
 thinking the habit might darken his teeth, but 
 many of the Corinthians, and the prince among 
 the first of them, set the example of lighting up. 
 All restraint had now been done away with, and 
 the prize-fighters, flushed with wine, roared across 
 the tables to each other, or shouted their greet- 
 ings to friends at the other end of the room. The 
 amateurs, falling into the humour of their com- 
 pany, were hardly less noisy, and loudly debated 
 the merits of the different men, criticising their 
 styles of fighting before their faces, and making 
 bets upon the results of future matches. 
 
 In the midst of the uproar there was an im- 
 perative rap upon the table, and my uncle rose to 
 speak. As he stood with his pale, calm face and 
 
igS RODNEY STONE. 
 
 fine figure, I had never seen him to greater ad- 
 vantage, for he seemed, with all his elegance, 
 to have a quiet air of domination among these 
 fierce fellows, like a huntsman walking carelessly 
 through a springing and yapping pack. He ex- 
 pressed his pleasure at seeing so many good 
 sportsmen under one roof, and acknowledged the 
 honour which had been done, both to his guests 
 and himself, by the presence there that night of 
 the illustrious personage whom he should refer to 
 as the Earl of Chester. He was sorry that the 
 season prevented him from placing game upon 
 the table, but there was so much sitting round it 
 that it would perhaps be hardly missed (cheers 
 and laughter). The sports of the ring had in his 
 opinion tended to that contempt of pain and of 
 danger which had contributed so much in the 
 past to the safety of the country, and which 
 might, if what he heard was true, be very quickly 
 needed once more. If an enemy landed upon our 
 shores it was then that, with our small army, we 
 should be compelled to fall back upon native 
 valour, trained into hardihood by the practice and 
 contemplation of manly sports. In times of peace 
 also the rules of the ring had been of service in 
 enforcing the principles of fair play, and in turn- 
 ing public opinion against that use of the knife 
 or of the boot which was so common in foreign 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 197 
 
 countries. He begged, therefore, to drink suc- 
 cess to the fancy, coupled with the name of John 
 Jackson, who might stand as a type of all that 
 was most admirable in British boxing. 
 
 Jackson having replied with a readiness which 
 many a public man might have envied, my uncle 
 rose once more. 
 
 " We are here to-night," said he, " not only to 
 celebrate the glories of the prize ring, but also to 
 arrange some sport for the future. It should be 
 easy, now that backers and fighting men are gath- 
 ered together under one roof, to come to terms 
 with each other. I have myself set an example 
 by making a match with Sir Lothian Hume, the 
 terms of which will be communicated to you by 
 that gentleman." 
 
 Sir Lothian rose with a paper in his hand. 
 
 " The terms, your Royal Highness and gentle- 
 men, are briefly these," said he. " My man, Crab 
 Wilson, of Gloucester, having never yet fought a 
 prize battle, il prepared to meet, upon May i8th 
 of this year, any man of any weight who may be 
 selected by Sir Charles Tregellis. Sir Charles 
 Tregellis's selection is limited to men below 
 twenty or above thirty -five years of age, so 
 as to exclude Belcher and the other candi- 
 dates for championship honours. The stakes 
 are two thousand against a thousand, two hun- 
 
igS RODNEY STONE. 
 
 dred to be paid by the winner to his man, play- 
 er pay." 
 
 It was curious to see the intense gravity of 
 them all, fighters and backers, as they bent their 
 brows and weighed the conditions of the 
 match. 
 
 " I am informed," said Sir John Lade, " that 
 Crab Wilson's age is twenty-three, and that, al- 
 though he has never fought a regular P. R. battle, 
 he has none the less fought within ropes for a 
 stake on many occasions." 
 
 " I've seen him halt a dozen times at the least," 
 said Belcher. 
 
 " It is precisely for that reason. Sir John, that 
 I am laying odds of ten to one in his favour." 
 
 " May I ask," said the prince, " what the exact 
 height and weight of Wilson may be ? " 
 
 " Five foot eleven and thirteen ten, your Royal 
 Highness." 
 
 " Long enough and heavy enough for anything 
 on two legs," said Jackson, and the professionals 
 all murmured their assent. 
 
 " Read the rules of the fight, Sir Lothian." 
 
 " The battle to take place on Tuesday, May 
 1 8th, at the hour of ten in the morning, at a spot 
 to be afterward named. The ring to be twenty 
 feet square. Neither to fall without a knock- 
 down blow, subject to the decision of the um- 
 
THE MEN OF THE RING. 
 
 199 
 
 pires. Three umpires to be chosen upon the 
 ground — namely, two in ordinary and one in ref- 
 erence. Does that meet with your wishes, Sir 
 Charles ? " 
 
 My uncle bowed. 
 
 " Have you anything to say, Wilson ? " 
 
 The young pugilist, who had a curious, lanky 
 figure and a craggy, bony face, passed his fingers 
 through his close-cropped hair. 
 
 " If you please, zir," said he, with a slight 
 west country burr, " a twenty-foot ring is too 
 small for a thirteen-stone man." 
 
 There was another murmur of professional 
 agreement. 
 
 " What would you have it then, Wilson?" 
 
 " Vour and twenty. Sir Lothian." 
 
 " Have you any objections. Sir Charles ? " 
 
 " Not the slightest." 
 
 " Anything else, Wilson ? " 
 
 " If you please, zir, I'd like to know whom I'm 
 fighting with." 
 
 " I understand that you have not nominated 
 your man. Sir Charles ? " 
 
 " I do not intend to do so until the very morn- 
 ing of the fight. I believe I have that right with- 
 in the terms of our wager." 
 
 " Certainly, if you choose to exergise it." 
 
 " I do so intend. And I should be vastly 
 14 
 
200 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 pleased if Mr. Berkeley Craven will consent to be 
 stakeholder." 
 
 That gentleman having given his consent, the 
 final formalities which led up to these humble 
 tournaments were concluded. 
 
 And then as these full-blooded, powerful men 
 became heated with their wine, angry eyes began 
 to gleam across the table, and amid the gray swirls 
 of tobacco the lamplight gleamed upon the fierce, 
 hawklike Jews and the flushed, savage Saxons. 
 The old quarrel as to whether Jackson had or 
 had not committed a foul by seizing Mendoza by 
 the hair on the occasion of their battle at Horn- 
 church eight years before, came to the front once 
 more. Dutch Sam hurled a shilling down upon 
 the table and offered to fight the Pride of West- 
 minster for it if he ventured to say that Mendoza 
 had been fairly beaten. Joe Berks, who had 
 grown noisier and more quarrelsome as the even- 
 ing went on, tried to clamber across the table 
 with horrible blasphemies to come to blows with 
 an old Jew named Fighting Jussef, who had 
 plunged into the discussion. It needed very little 
 more to finish the supper by a general and fero- 
 cious battle, and it was only the exertions of Jack- 
 son, Belcher, Harrison, and others of the cooler 
 and steadier men which saved us from a riot. 
 
 And then, when at last this question was set 
 
THE, MEN OF THE RING. 20 1 
 
 aside, that of the rival claims to championship at 
 different weights came on in its stead, and again 
 angry words flew about and challenges were in 
 the air. There was no exact limit between the 
 light, middle, and heavy-weights, and yet it 
 would make a very great difference to the stand- 
 ing of a boxer whether he should be regarded as 
 the heaviest of the light-weights or the lightest of 
 the heavy-weights. One claimed to be ten-stone 
 champion, another was ready to take on anything 
 at eleven, but would not run to twelve, which 
 would have brought the invincible Jem Belcher 
 down upon him. Faulkner claimed to be cham- 
 pion of the seniors, and even old Buckhorse's 
 curious call rang out above the tumult as he 
 turned the whole company to laughter and good 
 humour again by challenging anything over 
 eighty and under seven stone. 
 
 But in spite of gleams of sunshine there was 
 thunder in the air, and Champion Harrison had 
 just whispered in my ear that he was quite sure 
 we should never get through the night without 
 trouble, and was advising me, if it got very bad, 
 to take refuge under the table, when the landlord 
 entered the room hurriedly and handed a note to 
 my uncle. He read it and then passed it to the 
 prince, who returned it with raised eyebrows and 
 a gesture of surprise. Then he rose with the 
 
202 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 scrap of paper in his hand and a smile upon his 
 lips. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " there is a stranger 
 waiting below who desires a fight to a finish 
 with the best man in the room." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 
 
 The curt announcement was followed by a 
 moment of silent surprise, and then by a general 
 shout of laughter. There might be argument as 
 to who was the champion at each weight, but 
 there could be no question that all the cham- 
 pions of all the weights were seated round the 
 tables. An audacious challenge, which em- 
 braced them one and all, without regard to 
 size or age, could hardly be regarded other- 
 wise than as a joke, but it was a joke that 
 might be a dear one for the joker. 
 
 " Is this genuine ? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Charles," answered the landlord. 
 " The man is waiting below." 
 
 " It's a kid ! " cried several of the fighting 
 men. " Some cove is a-gammonin' us." 
 
 " Don't you believe it ! " answered the land- 
 lord. " He's a real slap-up Corinthian by his 
 dress, and he means what he says, or else I 
 ain't no judge of a man." 
 
 803 
 
204 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 My uncle whispered for a few moments with 
 the Prince of Wales. " Well, gentlemen," said 
 he at last, " the night is still young, and if any 
 of you should wish to show the company a little 
 of your skill you could not wish a better oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " What weight is he, Bill ? " asked Jem Bel- 
 cher. 
 
 " He's close onto six foot and I should put him 
 well up into the thirteen stone when he's buffed." 
 
 " Heavy metal! " cried Jackson. " Who takes 
 him on ? " 
 
 They all wanted to, from the nine-stone 
 Dutch Sam upward. The air was filled with 
 their hoarse shouts, and their arguments why 
 each should be the chosen one. To fight when 
 they were flushed with wine and ripe for mis- 
 chief — above all, to fight before so select a com- 
 pany, with the prince himself by the ring side — 
 was a chance which did not often come in their 
 way. Only Jackson, Belcher, Mendoza, and one 
 or two others of the senior and more famous 
 men remained silent, thinking it beneath their 
 dignity that they should condescend to so irreg- 
 ular a bye-battle. 
 
 " Well, you can't all fight him," remarked 
 Jackson, when the babel had died away. " It's 
 for the chairman to choose." 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 205 
 
 " Perhaps your Royal Highness has a prefer- 
 ence," said my uncle. 
 
 " By Jove, I'd take him on myself if my posi- 
 tion was different from what it is," said the prince, 
 whose face was growing redder and his eyes 
 more glazed. " You've seen me with the muf- 
 flers, Jackson ! You know my form ? " 
 
 " I've seen your Royal Highness, and I've felt 
 your Royal Highness," said the courtly Jackson. 
 
 " Perhaps Jem Belcher would give us an ex- 
 hibition," said my uncle. 
 
 Belcher smiled, and shook his handsome 
 head. 
 
 " There's my brother Tom here, who has 
 never been blooded in London, sir. He might 
 make a fairer match of it." 
 
 " Give 'im over to me ! " roared Joe Berks. 
 " I've been waitin' for a turn all evening, an' I'll 
 fight any man that tries to take my place. 'E's 
 my meat, my masters. Leave 'im to me if you 
 want to see how a calf's head should be dressed. 
 If you put Tom Belcher before me I'll fight 
 Tom Belcher, and for that matter I'll fight Jem 
 Belcher, or Bill Belcher, or any other Belcher 
 that ever came out of Bristol." 
 
 It was clear that Berks had got to the stage 
 when he must fight some one. His heavy face 
 was gorged and the veins stood out on his low 
 
2o6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 forehead, while his fierce gray eyes looked vi- 
 ciously from man to man in quest of a quarrel. 
 His great red hands were bunched into huge 
 gnarled fists, and he shook one of them mena- 
 cingly as his drunken gaze swept round the 
 tables. 
 
 " I think .you'll agree with me, gentlemen, 
 that Joe Berks would be all the better for 
 some fresh air and exercise," said my uncle. 
 " With the concurrence of his Royal Highness 
 and of the company I shall select him as our 
 champion on this occasion." 
 
 " You do me proud," cried the fellow, stagger- 
 ing to his feet and pulling at his coat. " If I don't 
 glut him within the five minutes may I never see 
 Shropshire again ! " 
 
 " Wait a bit, Berks," cried several of the ama- 
 teurs. " Where's it going to be held ? " 
 
 " Where you like, masters. I'll fight him in a 
 sawpit or on the outside of a coach, if it please you. 
 Put us toe to toe, and leave the rest with me." 
 
 " They can't fight here with all this litter," 
 said my uncle. " Where shall it be ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my soul, Tregellis," cried the prince, 
 " I think our unknown friend might have a word 
 to say upon that matter. He'll be vastly ill used 
 if you don't let him have his own choice of con- 
 ditions." 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 20/ 
 
 " You are right, sir. We must have him up." 
 
 " That's easy enough," said the landlord, " for 
 here he comes through the doorway." 
 
 I glanced round, and had a side view of a tall 
 and well-dressed young man, in a long brown 
 travelling coat and a black felt hat. The next in- 
 stant he had turned, and I had clutched with 
 both my hands onto Champion Harrison's arm. 
 
 " Harrison ! " I gasped, " it's Boy Jim ! " 
 
 And yet somehow the possibility and even 
 the probability of it had occurred to me from the 
 beginning, and I believe that it had to Champion 
 Harrison also, for I had noticed that his face 
 grew grave and troubled from the very moment 
 that there was talk of the stranger below. Now, 
 the instant that the buzz of surprise and admira- 
 tion which was caused by Jim's face and figure 
 had died away, Harrison was on his feet, gesticu- 
 lating in his excitement. 
 
 " It's my nephew, Jim, gentlemen," he cried. 
 " He's not twenty yet, and it's no doing of mine 
 that he should be here." 
 
 " Let him alone, Harrison," cried Jackson. 
 " He's big enough to take care of himself." 
 
 "This matter has gone rather far," said my 
 uncle. " I think, Harrison, that you are too good a 
 sportsman to prevent your nephew from showing 
 whether he takes after his uncle." 
 
2o8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " It's very different from me," cried Harrison, 
 in great distress. " But I'll tell you what I'll do, 
 gentlemen. I never thought to stand up in a 
 ring again, but I'll take on Joe Berks with 
 pleasure, just to give a bit of sport to this 
 company." 
 
 Boy Jim stepped across and laid his hand 
 upon the prize-fighter's shoulder. 
 
 " It must be so, uncle," I heard him whisper. 
 " I am sorry to go against your wishes, but I 
 have made up my mind, and I must carry it 
 through." 
 
 Harrison shrugged his broad shoulders. 
 
 " Jim, Jim, you don't know what you are 
 doing ! But I've heard you speak like that be- 
 fore, and I know that it ends in your getting 
 your way." 
 
 " I trust, Harrison, that your opposition is 
 withdrawn," said my uncle. 
 
 " Can I not take his place ? " 
 
 " You would not have it said that I gave a 
 challenge and let another carry it out," whispered 
 Boy Jim. " This is my one chance. For Heaven's 
 sake don't stand in my way ! " 
 
 The smith's broad and usually stolid face was 
 working with his conflicting emotions. At last 
 he banged his fist down upon the table. 
 
 " It's no fault of mine ! " he cried. " It was 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 209 
 
 to be and it is. — Jim, boy, for the Lord's sake, 
 remember your distances,, and stick to out-fight- 
 ing with a man that could give you a stone." 
 
 " I was sure that Harrison would not stand in 
 the way of sport,"' said my uncle. " We are glad 
 that you have stepped up that we might consult 
 you as to the arrangements for giving effect to 
 your very sporting challenge." 
 
 "Whom am I to fight?" asked Jim, looking 
 round at the company, who were now all upon 
 their feet. 
 
 " Young man, you'll know enough of who you 
 'ave to fight before you are through with it," 
 cried Berks, lurching heavily through the crowd. 
 " You'll need a friend to swear to you before I've 
 finished, d'ye see?" 
 
 Jim looked at him with disgust in every line 
 of his face. 
 
 " Surely you are not going to set me to fight 
 a drunken man," said he. " Where's Jem 
 Belcher?" 
 
 " My name, young man." 
 
 " I should be glad to try you, if I may." 
 
 " You must work up to me, my lad. You 
 don't take a ladder at one jump, but you do it 
 rung by rung. Show youself to be a match for 
 nie, and I'll give you a turn." 
 
 " I'm much obliged to you," said Jim. 
 
2IO RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " And I like the look of you and I wish you 
 well," said Belcher, holding out his hand. They 
 were not unlike each other either in face or fig- 
 ure, though the Bristol man was a few years the 
 older, and a murmur of critical admiration was 
 heard as the two tall, lithe figures and clean-cut 
 faces were contrasted. 
 
 " Have you any choice where the fight takes 
 place ? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " I am in your hands, sir," said Jini. 
 
 " Why not go round to the Fives Court ? " 
 suggested Sir John Lade. 
 
 " Yes, let us all go to the Fives Court." 
 
 But this did not at all suit the views of the 
 landlord, who saw in this lucky incident a chance 
 of reaping a fresh harvest from his spendthrift 
 company. 
 
 " If it please you," he cried, " there is no need 
 to go so far. My coach house at the back of the 
 yard is empty, and a better place for a mill you'll 
 never find." 
 
 There was a general shout in favour of the 
 coach house, and those who were nearest the door 
 began to slip through in the hope of securing the 
 best places. My stout neighbour. Bill Warr, 
 pulled Harrison to one side. 
 
 " I'd stop it if I were you," he whispered. 
 
 "I would if I could. It's no wish of mine that 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 211 
 
 he should fight. But there's no turning him 
 when once his mind is set." 
 
 All his own fights put together had never re- 
 duced the pugilist to such a state of agitation. 
 
 " Wait on 'im yourself, then, and chuck up the 
 sponge when things begin to go wrong. You 
 know Joe Berks's record ? " 
 
 " He's since my time." 
 
 " Well, he's a terror, that's all. It's only 
 Belcher that can master 'im. You see the man 
 for yourself, six foot, fourteen stone, and full of 
 the devil. Belcher's beat 'im twice, but the sec- 
 ond time 'e 'ad all 'is work to do it." 
 
 " Well, well, we've got to go through with it. 
 You've not seen Boy Jim put his mawlays up, or 
 maybe you'd think better of his chances. When 
 he was short of sixteen he licked the cock of the 
 South Downs, and he's come on a long way since 
 then." 
 
 The company was swarming through the door 
 and clattering down the stair as we followed in 
 the stream. A fine rain was falling, and the yel- 
 low lights from the windows glistened upon the 
 wet cobblestones in the yard. How welcome 
 that sweet breath of damp air was after the fetid 
 atmosphere of the supper room ! At the other 
 end of the yard was an open door, sharply out- 
 lined by the gleam of lanterns within, and 
 
212 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 through this they poured, amateurs and fighting 
 men jostling each other in their eagerness to get 
 to the front. For my own part, being a small- 
 ish man, I should have seen nothing had I not 
 found an upturned bucket in a corner upon 
 which I perched myself with the wall at my 
 back. 
 
 It was a large room, with a wooden floor and 
 an open square in the ceiling, which was fringed 
 with the heads of the hostlers and stable boys 
 who were looking down from the harness room 
 above. A carriage lamp was slung in each cor- 
 ner, and a very large stable lantern hung from a 
 rafter in the centre. A coil of rope had been 
 brought in, and, under the direction of Jackson, 
 four men had been stationed to hold it. 
 
 " What space do you give them ? " asked my 
 uncle. 
 
 " Twenty-four, as they are both big ones, sir." 
 
 " Very good, and half minutes between rounds, 
 I suppose. I'll umpire if Sir Lothian Hume will 
 do the same, and you can hold the watch and 
 referee, Jackson." 
 
 With great speed and exactness every prep- 
 aration was rapidly made by these experienced 
 men. Mendoza and Dutch Sam were commis- 
 sioned to attend to Berks, while Champion Harri- 
 son did the same for Boy Jim. Sponges, towels. 
 
c M,, V>A< 
 
 Jim had appeared in the ring. 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 213 
 
 and some brandy in a bladder were passed over 
 the heads of the crowd for the use of the seconds. 
 
 " Here's our man," cried Belcher. — " Come 
 along, Berks, or we'll go to fetch you." 
 
 Jim had appeared in the ring stripped to the 
 waist, with a coloured' handkerchief tied round 
 his middle. A shout of admiration came from 
 the spectators as they looked upon the fine lines 
 of his figure, and I found myself roaring with the 
 rest. His shoulders were sloping rather than 
 bulky, and his chest was deep rather than broad, 
 but the muscle was all in the right place, rippling 
 down in long, low curves from neck to shoulder, 
 and from shoulder to elbow. His work at the 
 anvil had developed his arms to their utmost, and 
 his healthy country living gave a sleek gloss to 
 his ivory skin, which shone in the lamplight. 
 His expression was full of spirit and confidence, 
 and he wore a grim sort of half-smile which I had 
 seen many a time in our boyhood, and which 
 meant, I knew, that his pride had set iron hard, 
 and that his senses would fail him long before 
 his courage. 
 
 Joe Berks in the meanwhile had swaggered in 
 and stood with folded arms between his seconds 
 in the opposite corner. His face had none of the 
 eager alertness of his opponent, and his skin, of a 
 dead white, with heavy folds about the chest and 
 
214 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 ribs, showed even to my inexperienced eyes that 
 he was not a man who should fight without train- 
 ing. A life of toping and ease had left him flabby 
 and gross. On the other hand, he was famous for 
 his mettle and for his hitting power, so that even 
 in face of the advantages of youth and condition 
 the betting was three to one in his favour. His 
 heavy-jowled, clean-shaven face expressed feroci- 
 ty as well as courage, and he stood with his small 
 bloodshot eyes fixed viciously upon Jim, and his 
 lumpy shoulders stooping a little forward like a 
 fierce hound straining on a leash. 
 
 The hubbub of the betting had risen until it 
 had drowned all other sounds, men shouting 
 their opinions from one side of the coach house 
 to the other, and waving their hands to attract 
 attention, or as a sign that, they had accepted a 
 wager. Sir John Lade, standing just in front of 
 me, was roaring out the odds against Jim, and 
 laying them freely with those who fancied the 
 appearance of the unknown. 
 
 " I've seen Berks fight," said he to the Hon. 
 Berkeley Craven. " No country hawbuck is go- 
 ing to knock out a man with such a record." 
 
 " He may be a country hawbuck," the other 
 answered ; " but I have been reckoned a judge of 
 anything either on two legs or four, and I tell 
 you. Sir John, that I never saw a man who looked 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 21$ 
 
 better breed in my life. Are you still laying 
 against him ? " 
 
 " Three to one." 
 
 " Have you once in hundreds ! " 
 
 " Very good, Craven ! There they go ! — Berks ! 
 Berks ! Bravo, Berks ! bravo ! — I think, Craven, 
 that I shall trouble you for that hundred." 
 
 The two men had stood up to each other, Jim 
 as light upon his feet as a goat, with his left well 
 out and his right thrown across the lower part 
 of his chest, while Berks held both arms half ex- 
 tended and his feet almost level so that he might 
 lead off with either side. For an instant they 
 looked each other over, and then Berks, ducking 
 his head and rushing in with a hand-over-hand 
 style of hitting, bored Jim down into his corner. 
 It was a backward slip rather than a knockdown, 
 but a thin trickle of blood was seen at the corner 
 of Jim's mouth. In an instant the seconds had 
 seized their men and carried them back into their 
 corners. 
 
 " Do you mind doubling our bet ? " said Berke- 
 ley Craven, who was craning his neck to get a 
 glimpse of Jim. 
 
 " Four to one on Berks ! Four to one on 
 Berks ! " cried the ringsiders. 
 
 " The odds have gone up, you see. Will you 
 have four to one in hundreds ?" 
 
 IS 
 
2i6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Very good, Sir John." 
 
 " You seem to fancy him more for having 
 been knocked down." 
 
 " He was pushed down, but he stopped every 
 blow, and I liked the look on his face as he got 
 up again." 
 
 " Well, it's the old stager for me. Here they 
 come again ! He's got a pretty style, and he 
 covers his points well, but it isn't the best-look- 
 ing that wins." 
 
 They were at it again, and I was jumping 
 about upon my bucket in my excitement. It was 
 evident that Berks meant to finish the battle off- 
 hand, while Jim, with two of the most experi- 
 enced men in England to advise him, was quite 
 aware that his correct tactics were to allow the 
 ruffian to expend his strength and win in vain. 
 There was something horrible in the ferocious 
 energy of Berks's hitting, every blow fetching a 
 grunt from him as he smashed it in, and after 
 each I gazed at Jim, as I have gazed at a stranded 
 vessel upon the Sussex beach when wave after 
 wave has roared over it, fearing each time that I 
 should find it miserably mangled. But still the 
 lamplight shone upon the lad's clear alert face, 
 upon his well-opened eyes and his firm-set mouth, 
 while the blows were taken upon his forearm or 
 allowed, by a quick duck of the head, to whistle 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 217 
 
 over his shoulder. But Berks was artful as well 
 as violent. Gradually he worked Jim back into 
 an angle of the ropes from which there was no 
 escape, and then when he had him fairly pinned 
 he sprang upon him like a tiger. What hap- 
 pened was so quick that I can not set its sequence 
 down in words, but I saw Jim make a quick stoop 
 under the swinging arms, and at the same instant 
 I heard a ringing smack, and there was Jim danc- 
 ing about in the middle of the ring, and Berks 
 lying upon his side on the floor with his hand to 
 his eye. 
 
 How they roared ! Prize-fighters, Corinthians, 
 prince, stable boy, and landlord were all shouting 
 at the top of their lungs. Old Buckhorse was 
 skipping about on a box beside me, shrieking Qut 
 criticisms and advice in strange obsolete ring 
 jargon, which no one could understand. His dull 
 eyes were shining, his parchment face was quiver- 
 ing with excitement, and his strange musical call 
 rang out above the hubbub. The two men were 
 hurried to their corners, one second sponging' 
 them down and the other flapping a towel in 
 front of their faces, while they, with arms hanging 
 down and legs extended, tried to draw all the air 
 they could into their lungs in the brief space al- 
 lowed them. 
 
 " Where's your country hawbuck now ? " cried 
 
2i8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Craven, triumphantly. " Did ever you witness 
 anything more masterly ? " 
 
 " He's no Johnny Raw, certainly," said Sir 
 John, shaking his head.—" What odds are you 
 giving on Berks, Lord Sele ? " 
 
 " Two to one." 
 
 " I take you twice in hundreds." 
 
 " Here's Sir John Lade hedging ! " cried my 
 uncle, smiling back at us over his shoulder. 
 
 "Time!" said Jackson, and the two men 
 sprang forward to the mark again. 
 
 This round was a good deal shorter than that 
 which had preceded it. Berks's orders evidently 
 were to close at any cost, and so make use of his 
 extra weight and strength before the superior 
 condition of his antagonist could have time to 
 tell. On the other hand, Jim, after his experience 
 in the last round, was less disposed to make any 
 great exertion to keep him at arm's length. He 
 led at Berks's head as he came rushing in and 
 missed him, receiving a severe body blow in re- 
 turn, which left the imprint of four angry knuckles 
 above his ribs. As they closed Jim caught his 
 opponent's bullet head under his arm for an in- 
 stant, and put a couple of half-arm blows in, but 
 the prize-fighter pulled him over by his weight, 
 and the two fell panting side by side upon the 
 ground. Jim sprang up, however, and walked 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE C^)ACH HOUSE. 219 
 
 over to his corner, while Berks, distressed by his 
 evening's dissipation, leaned one arm upon Men- 
 doza and the other upon Dutch Sam, as he made 
 for his seat. 
 
 " Bellows to mend ! " cried Jem Belcher. 
 " Where's the four to one now ? " 
 
 " Give us time to get the lid off our pepper- 
 box," said Mendoza. " We mean to make a night 
 of it." 
 
 " Looks like it," cried Jack Harrison. " He's 
 shut one of his eyes already. Even money that 
 my boy wins it ! " 
 
 " How much?" asked several voices. 
 
 " Two pound, four and threepence," cried 
 Harrison, counting out all his worldly wealth. 
 
 " Time ! " said Jackson once more. 
 
 They were both at the mark in an instant, Jim 
 as full of sprightly confidence as ever, and Berks 
 with a dogged grin upon his bulldog face, and a 
 most vicious gleam in the only eye which was of 
 use to him. His half-minute had not enabled him 
 to recover his breath, and his huge hairy chest 
 was rising and falling with a quick, loud panting 
 like a spent hound. " Go in, boy ! Bustle him ! " 
 roared Harrison and Belcher. — " Get your wind, 
 Joe, get your wind ! " cried the Jews. So now 
 we had a reversal of tactics, for it was Jim who 
 went in to hit with all the vigour of his young 
 
220 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 strength and unimpaired energy, while it was the 
 savage Berks who was paying his debt to Nature 
 for the many injuries which he had done her. 
 He gasped, he gurgled, his face grew purple in 
 his attempts to get his breath, while with his long 
 left arm extended and his right thrown across he 
 tried to screen himself from the attack of his 
 young antagonist. " Drop when he hits ! " cried 
 Mendoza, " drop and have a rest." 
 
 But there was no shyness or shiftiness about 
 Berks's fighting. He was always a gallant ruffian 
 who disdained to go down before an antagonist 
 as long as his legs would sustain him. He 
 propped Jim off with his long arm, and though 
 the lad sprang lightly round him, looking for an 
 opening, he was held off as if a forty-inch bar of 
 iron were between them. Every instant now was 
 in favour of Berks, and already his breathing was 
 easier and the bluish tinge fading from his face. 
 Jim knew that his chance of a speedy victory was 
 slipping away from him, and he came back again 
 and again as swift as a flash to the attack without 
 being able to get past the passive defence of the 
 trained fighting man. It was at such a moment 
 that ringcraft was needed, and, luckily for Jim, two 
 masters of it were at his back. " Get your left 
 on his mark, boy ! " they shouted. " Then go to 
 his head with the right ! " 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 221 
 
 Jim heard, and acted on the instant. Plunk ! 
 came his left just where his antagonist's ribs 
 curved from his breastbone. The force of the 
 blow was half broken by Berks's elbow, but it 
 served its purpose of bringing forward his head. 
 Spank! went the right, with the clear, crisp 
 sound of two billiard balls clapping together, and 
 Berks reeled, flung up his arms, spun round, and 
 fell in a huge, fleshy heap upon the floor. His 
 seconds were on him instantly, and propped him 
 up in a sitting position, his head rolling helplessly 
 from one shoulder to the other, and finally top- 
 pling backward with his chin pointed to the ceil- 
 ing. Dutch Sam thrust the brandy bladder be- 
 tween his teeth, while Mendoza shook him sav- 
 agely and howled insults in his ear, but neither 
 the spirits nor the sense of injury could break into 
 that serene tranquillity. Time was duly called, 
 and the Jews, seeing that the affair was over, let 
 their man's head fall back with a crack upon the 
 floor, and there he lay, his huge arms and legs 
 a-sprawl, while the Corinthians and fighting men 
 crowded past him to shake the hand of his con- 
 queror. 
 
 For my part I tried also to pass through the 
 throng, but it was no easy task for one of the 
 smallest and weakest men in the room. On all 
 sides of me I heard a brisk discussion from ama- 
 
222 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 teurs and professionals of Jim's performance and 
 of his prospects. 
 
 " He's the best bit of new stuff that I've seen 
 since Jem Belcher fought his first fight with Pad- 
 dington Jones at Wormwood Scrubs four years 
 ago last April," said Berkeley Craven. " You'll 
 see him with the belt round his waist before he's 
 five and twenty, or I am no judge of a man." 
 
 " That handsome face of his has cost me a 
 cool five hundred," grumbled Sir John Lade. 
 " Who'd have thought that he was such a punish- 
 ing hitter ? " 
 
 " For all that," said another, " I am confident 
 that if Joe Berks had been sober he would have 
 eaten him. Besides, the lad was in training, and 
 the other would have burst like an overdone po- 
 tato if he were hit. I never saw a man so soft, 
 or with his w^ind in such a condition. Put the 
 men in training, and it's a horse to a hen on the 
 bruiser." 
 
 Some agreed with the last speaker, and some 
 were against him, so that a brisk argument was 
 being carried on around me. In the midst of it 
 the prince took his departure, which was the sig- 
 nal for the greater part of the company to make 
 for the door. In this way I was able at last to 
 reach the corner where Jim had just finished his 
 dressing, while Champion Harrison, with tears of 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 223 
 
 joy still shining upon his cheeks, was helping him 
 on with his overcoat. 
 
 " In four rounds ! " he kept repeating, in a sort 
 of ecstasy. " Joe Berks in four rounds ! And it 
 took Jem Belcher fourteen." 
 
 " "Well, Roddy," cried Jim, holding out his 
 hand, " I told you that I would come to London 
 and make my name known." 
 
 " It was splendid, Jim ! " 
 
 " Dear old Roddy ! I saw your white face 
 staring at me from the corner. You are not 
 changed for all your grand clothes and your Lon- 
 don friends." 
 
 " It is you who are changed, Jim," said I. " I 
 hardly knew you when you came into the room." 
 
 " Nor I," cried the smith. " Where got you 
 all these fine feathers, Jim ? Sure I am that it 
 was not your aunt that helped you to the first 
 step toward the prize ring." 
 
 " Miss Hinton has been my friend — the best 
 friend I ever had." 
 
 " Humph ! I thought as much," grumbled the 
 smith. " Well, it is no doing of mine, Jim, and 
 you must bear witness to that when we go home 
 again. I don't know what — but there, it is done, 
 and it can't be helped. After all, she's — now t-he 
 devil take my clumsy tongue ! " 
 
 I could not tell w^hether it was the wine he 
 
224 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 had taken at supper or the excitement of Boy 
 Jim's victory which was affecting Champion Har- 
 rison, but his usually placid face wore a most 
 disturbed expression, and his manner seemed to 
 betray an alternation of exultation and embarrass- 
 ment. Jim looked curiously at him, wondering 
 evidently what it was that lay behind these 
 abrupt sentences and sudden silences. The 
 coach house had in the meanwhile been cleared, 
 Berks with many curses had staggered at last to 
 his feet and had gone off in the company of two 
 other bruisers, while Jem Belcher alone remained 
 chatting very earnestly with my uncle. 
 
 " Very good, Belcher," I heard my uncle say. 
 
 " It would be a real pleasure to me to do it, 
 sir," said the famous prize-fighter, as the two 
 walked toward us. 
 
 " I wished to ask you, Jim Harrison, whether 
 you would undertake to be my champion in the 
 fight against Crab Wilson, of Gloucester," said 
 my uncle. 
 
 " That is what I want. Sir Charles — to have a 
 chance of fighting my way upward." 
 
 "There are heavy stakes upon the event — 
 very heavy stakes," said my uncle. " You will 
 receive two hundred pounds if you win. Does 
 that satisfy you ? " 
 
 " I shall fight for the honour, and because I 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 225 
 
 wish to be thought worthy of being matched 
 against Jem Belcher." 
 
 Belcher laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 " You're going the right way about it, lad," 
 said he. " But you had a soft thing on to-night, 
 with a drunken man who was out of condition." 
 
 " 1 did not wish to iight him," said Jim, 
 flushing. 
 
 " Oh, I know you have spirit enough to fight 
 anything on two legs. I kpew that the instant I 
 clapped eyes on you. But I want you to remem- 
 ber that when you fight Crab Wilson you will 
 fight the most promising man from the west, and 
 that the best man of the west is likely to be the 
 best man in England. He's as quick and as long 
 in the reach as you are, and he'll train himself to 
 the last half ounce of tallow. I tell you this now, 
 d'ye see, because if I'm to have the charge of 
 you " 
 
 " Charge of me ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " said my uncle. " Belcher has con- 
 sented to train you for the coming battle if you 
 are willing to enter." 
 
 " I am sure I am very much obliged to you," 
 cried Jim, heartily. " Unless my uncle should 
 wish to train me, there's no one I would rather 
 have." 
 
 " Nay, Jim. I'll stay with you a few days, 
 
226 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 but Belcher knows a deal more about training 
 than I do. Where will the quarters be ? " 
 
 " I thought it would be handy for you if we 
 fixed it at the George at Crawley. Then if we 
 have the choice of place we might choose Craw- 
 ley Down, for, except Moseley Hurst, and maybe 
 Smitham Bottom, there isn't a spot in the country 
 that would compare with it for a mill. Do you 
 agree to that ? " 
 
 " With all my heart," said Jim. 
 
 " Then you're my man from this hour on, d'ye 
 see ? " said Belcher. " Your food is mine and 
 your drink is mine and your sleep' is mine, and 
 all you've to do is just what you are told. We 
 haven't an hour to lose, for Wilson has been in 
 half training this month back. You saw his empty 
 glass to-night ? " 
 
 " Jim's fit to fight for his life at the present 
 moment," said Harrison. " But we'll both come 
 down with you to Crawley to-morrow. So good 
 night, Sir Charles." 
 
 "Good night, Roddy," said Jim. "You'll 
 come down to Crawley and see me at my train- 
 ing quarters, will you not ? " And I heartily 
 promised that I would. 
 
 " You must be more careful, nephew," said my 
 uncle, as we rattled home in his model vis-k-vis. 
 " In premiere jeunesse one is a little inclined to 
 
THE FIGHT IN THE COACH HOUSE. 227 
 
 be ruled by one's heart rather than one's reason. 
 Jim Harrison seems to be a most respectable 
 young fellow, but, after all, he is a blacksmith's 
 apprentice and a candidate for the prize ring. 
 There is a vast gap between his position and that 
 of my own blood relation, and you must let him 
 feel that you are his superior." 
 
 " He is the oldest and dearest friend that I 
 have in the world, sir," I answered. " We were 
 boys together, and have never had a secret from 
 each other. As to showing him that I am his 
 superior, I don't know how I can do that, for I 
 know very well that he is mine." 
 
 " Hum ! " said my uncle dryly, and it was the 
 last word that he addressed to me that night. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 
 
 So Boy Jim went down to the George at 
 Crawley under the charge of Jem Belcher and his 
 uncle to train for his great fight with Crab Wil- 
 son, of Gloucester, while every club and bar par- 
 lour of London rang with the account of how he 
 had appeared at a supper of Corinthians and 
 beaten the formidable Joe Berks in four rounds. 
 Jim had told me that he would make his name 
 known, and his words had come true sooner than 
 he could have expected it, for go where one 
 might, one heard of nothing but the match be- 
 tween Sir Lothian Hume and Sir Charles Tregel- 
 lis and the points of the two probable combatants. 
 The betting was still strongly in favour of Wilson, 
 for he had a number of bye-battles to set against 
 this single victory of Jim's, and it was thought by 
 connoisseurs who had seen him spar that the sin- 
 gular defensive tactics which had given him his 
 
 nickname would prove very puzzling to a raw 
 
 228 
 
THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 
 
 229 
 
 antagonist. In height, strength, and reputation 
 for gameness there was very little to choose 
 between them, but Wilson had been the more 
 severely tested. 
 
 It was but a few days before the battle that 
 my father made his promised visit to London. 
 The seaman had no love for cities, and was hap- 
 pier when wandering over the Downs, and turning 
 his glass upon every topsail which showed above 
 the horizon, than in finding his way among 
 crowded streets, where, as he complained, it was 
 impossible to keep a course by the sun, and very 
 hard by dead reckoning. Rumours of war were 
 in the air, however, and it was necessary that he 
 should use his influence with Lord Nelson if a 
 vacancy was to be found either for himself or 
 for me. 
 
 My uncle had just set forth, as was his custom 
 of an evening, clad in his green riding frock, his 
 plate buttons, his Cordovan boots, and his round 
 hat, to show himself upon his little crop-tailed tit 
 in the Mall. I had remained behind, for, indeed, 
 I had already made up my mind that I had no 
 calling for this fashionable life. These men, with 
 their small waists, their gestures, and their un- 
 natural ways, had become wearisome to me, and 
 even my uncle, with his cold and patronizing 
 manner, filled me with very mixed feelings. My 
 
230 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 thoughts were back in Sussex, and I was dream- 
 ing of the kindly, simple ways of the country, 
 when there came a rat-tat at the knocker, the ring 
 of a hearty voice, and there in the doorway was 
 the smiling, weather-beaten face, with the puck- 
 ered eyelids and the light blue eyes. 
 
 " Why, Roddy, you are grand, indeed ! " he 
 cried. " But I had rather see you with the 
 king's blue coat upon your back than with all 
 these frills and ruffles." 
 
 " And I had rather wear it, father," I an- 
 swered. 
 
 " It makes me glad to hear you say so. 
 Lord Nelson had promised me that he would 
 find a berth for you, and to-morrow we shall 
 seek him out and remind him of it. But where 
 is your uncle ? " 
 
 " He is riding in the Mall." 
 
 A look of relief passed over my father's honest 
 face, for he was never very easy in his brother-in- 
 law's company. " I have been to the admiralty," 
 said he, " and I trust that I shall have a ship 
 when war breaks out ; by all accounts it will 
 not be long first. Lord St. Vincent told me so 
 with his own lips. But I am at Fladong's, Rod- 
 ney, where, if you will come and sup with me, 
 you will see some of my messmates from the 
 Mediterranean." 
 
THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 23 1 
 
 When you think that in the last year of the 
 war we had one hundred and forty thousand 
 seamen and marines afloat, commanded by four 
 thousand officers, and that half of these had 
 been turned adrift when the Peace of Amiens 
 laid their ships up in the Hamoaze or Portsdown 
 Creek, you will understand that London, as well 
 as the dockyard towns, was full of seafarers. 
 You could not walk the streets without catching 
 sight of gipsy-faced, keen-eyed men, whose plain 
 clothes told of their empty purses as plainly as 
 their listless air showed their weariness of a life 
 of forced and unaccustomed inaction. Amid the 
 dark streets and brick houses there was some- 
 thing out of place in their appearance, as when 
 the seagulls, driven by stress of weather, are seen 
 in the midland shires. Yet, while prize courts 
 procrastinated, or there was a chance of an 
 appointment by showing their sunburned faces 
 at the admiralty, so long they would continue 
 to pace, with their quarter-deck strut, down 
 Whitehall, or to gather of an evening to discuss 
 the events of the last war or the chances of the 
 next at Fladong's in Oxford Street, which was 
 reserved as entirely for the navy as Slaughter's 
 was for the army or Ibbetson's for the Church of 
 England. 
 
 It did not surprise me, therefore, that we 
 16 
 
232 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 should find the large room in which we supped 
 crowded with naval men, but I remember that 
 what did cause me some astonishment was to 
 observe that all these sailors who had served 
 under the most varying conditions, in all quar- 
 ters of the globe, from the Baltic to the West 
 Indies, should have been moulded into so uniform 
 a type that they were more like each other than 
 brother is commonly to brother. The rules of 
 the service insured that every face should be 
 clean-shaven, every head powdered, and every 
 neck covered by the little queue of natural hair, 
 tied with a black silk ribbon. Biting winds and 
 tropical suns had combined to darken them, 
 while the habit of command and the menace of 
 ever-recurring dangers had stamped them all 
 with the same expression of authority and alert- 
 ness. There were some jovial faces among 
 them, but the older officers, with their deep- 
 lined cheeks and their masterful noses, were for 
 the most part as austere as so many weather- 
 beaten ascetics from the desert. Lonely watch- 
 ers and a disciplyje which cut them off from all 
 companionship had left their mark upon those 
 red-Indian faces. For my part, I could hardly 
 eat my supper for watching them. Young as I 
 was, I knew that if there were any freedom left 
 in Europe, it was to these men that we owed it. 
 
THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 233 
 
 and I seemed to read upon their grim, harsh 
 features the record of that long ten years of 
 struggle which had swept the tricolor from the 
 seas. 
 
 When we had finished our supper my father 
 led me into the great coffee room, where one 
 hundred or more officers may have been assem- 
 bled, drinking their wine and smoking their long 
 clay pipes, until the air was as thick as the main 
 deck in a close-fought action. 
 
 " There's many a man here, Rodney," said my 
 father, as he glanced .about him, " whose name 
 may never find its way into any book save his 
 own ship's log, but who in his own way has set 
 as fine an example as any admiral of them all. 
 We know them and talk of them in the fleet, 
 though they may never be bawled in the streets 
 of London. There's as much seamanship and 
 pluck in a good cutter action as in a line-o '-battle 
 ship fight, though you may not come by a title or 
 the thanks of Parliament for it. There's Hamilton, 
 for example, the quiet, pale-faced man who is 
 leaning against the pillar. It was he who with 
 six rowing boats cut out the forty-four-gun frigate 
 Hermione from under the muzzles of two hun- 
 dred shore guns in the harbour of Puerto Cabello. 
 No finer action was done in the whole war. 
 There's Brereton, with the whiskers. It was he 
 
234 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 who attacked twelve Spanish gunboats in his own 
 little brig, and made four of them strike to him. 
 There's Walker, of the Rose cutter, who with 
 thirteen men engaged three French privateers, 
 with crews of a hundred and forty-six. He sank 
 one, captured one, and chased the third. — How 
 are you. Captain Bell ? I hope I see you well." 
 
 Two or three of my father's acquaintances, 
 who had been sitting close by, drew up their 
 chairs to us, and soon quite a circle had formed, 
 all talking loudly and arguing, upon sea matters, 
 shaking their long, red-tipped pipes at each other 
 as they spoke. My father whispered in my ear 
 that his neighbour was Captain Foley, of the 
 Goliath, who led the van at the Nile, and that 
 the tall, thin, foxy-haired man opposite was Lord 
 Cochrane, the most dashing frigate captain in 
 the service. Even at Friar's Oak we had heard 
 how in the little Speedy of fourteen small guns, 
 with fifty-four men, he had carried by boarding 
 the Spanish frigate Gamo with her crew of three 
 hundred. It was easy to see that he was a quick, 
 irascible man, for he was talking hotly about his 
 grievances with a flush of anger upon his freckled 
 cheeks. 
 
 It was of interest to me to hear these men 
 who were spending their lives in fighting against 
 our neighbours discussing their character and 
 
THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 235 
 
 ways. You can not conceive — you who live in 
 times of peace and charity — how fierce the hatred 
 was in England at that time against the French, 
 and above all against their great leader. It was 
 more than a mere prejudice or dislike. It was 
 a deep, aggressive loathing which you may even 
 now form some conception of if you examine the 
 papers or caricatures of the day. The word 
 Frenchman was hardly spoken without " rascal " 
 or " scoundrel " slipping in before it. In all 
 ranks of life and in every part of the country the 
 feeling was the same. Even the Jacks aboard 
 our ships fought with a viciousness against a 
 French vessel which they would never show to 
 Dane, Dutchman, or Spaniard. 
 
 If you ask me now after fifty years why it was 
 that there should have been this virulent feeling 
 against them, so foreign to the easy-going and 
 tolerant British nature, I would confess that I 
 think the real reason was fear. Not fear of them 
 individually, of course — our foulest detractors 
 have never called us faint-hearted — but fear of 
 their star, fear of their future, fear of the subtle 
 brain whose plans always seemed to go aright, 
 and of the heav)" hand which had struck nation 
 after nation to the ground. We were but a small 
 country with a population which, when the war 
 began, was not much more than half that of 
 
236 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 France. And then France had increased by leaps 
 and bounds, reaching out to the north into Bel- 
 gium and Holland, and to the south into Italy, 
 while we were weakened by deep-lying disaf- 
 fection among both Catholics and Presbyterians 
 in Ireland. The danger was imminent and plain 
 to the least thoughtful. One could not walk the 
 Kent coast without seeing the beacons heaped up 
 to tell the country of the enemy's landing, and if 
 the sun was shining on the uplands near Boulogne 
 one might catch a glimpse of its gleam upon the 
 bayonets of manoeuvring veterans. No wonder 
 that a fear of the French power lay deeply in the 
 hearts of the most gallant men, and that fear 
 should, as it always does, beget a bitter and ran- 
 corous hatred. 
 
 The seamen did not speak kindly of their re- 
 cent enemies. Their hearts loathed them, and, 
 in the fashion of their country, their lips said 
 what their hearts felt. Of the French officers 
 they could not have spoken with more chivalry 
 as of worthy foemen, but the nation was an 
 abomination to them. The older men had fought 
 against them in the American war, they had 
 fought again for the last ten years, and the dear- 
 est wish of their hearts seemed to be that they 
 might be called upon to do the same for the re- 
 mainder of their days. Yet if I were surprised 
 
THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 237 
 
 by the virulence of their animosity against the 
 French, I was even more so to hear how highly 
 they rated them as antagonists. The long suc- 
 cession of British victories, which had finally 
 made the French take to their ports and resign 
 the struggle in despair, had given all of us the 
 idea that for some reason a Briton on the water 
 must, in the nature of things, always have the best 
 of it against a Frenchman. 
 
 But these men who had done the fighting did 
 not think so. They were loud in their praise of 
 their foeman's gallantry, and precise in their rea- 
 sons for his defeat. They showed how the offi- 
 cers of the old French navy had nearly all been 
 aristocrats, and how the revolution had swept 
 them out of their ships and the force been left 
 with insubordinate seamen and no competent 
 leaders. This ill-directed fleet had been hustled 
 into port by the pressure of the well-manned and 
 well-commanded British, who had pinned them 
 there ever since, so that they had never had an 
 opportunity for learning seamanship. Their har- 
 bour drill and their harbour gunnery had been of 
 no service when sails had to be trimmed and 
 broadsides fired on the heave of an Atlantic 
 swell. Let one of their frigates get to sea and 
 have a couple of years free run in which to learn 
 her duties, and then it would be a feather in the 
 
238 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 cap of a British ofJBcer if, with a ship of equal 
 force, he could bring down her colours. 
 
 Such were the views of these experienced offi- 
 cers, fortified by many reminiscences and examples 
 of French gallantry, such as the way in which the 
 crew of L'Orient had fought her quarter-deck 
 guns when the maindeck was in a blaze be- 
 neath them, and when they must have known 
 that they were standing over an exploding 
 magazine. The general hope was that the 
 West Indian expedition, since the peace, might 
 have given many .of their fleet an ocean train- 
 ing, and that they might be tempted out into 
 mid-channel if the war were to break out 
 afresh. But would it break out afresh ? We 
 had spent gigantic sums and made enormous ex- 
 ertions to curb the power of Napoleon and to pre- 
 vent him from becoming the universal despot of 
 the world. Would the Government try it again? 
 Or were they appalled by the gigantic load of 
 debt which must bend the backs of many genera- 
 tions unborn? Pitt was there, and surely he was 
 not a man to leave his work half done ! 
 
 And then suddenly there was a bustle at the 
 door. Amid the gray swirl of the tobacco smoke 
 I could catch a glimpse of a blue coat and gold 
 epaulets, with a crowd gathering thickly around 
 them, while a hoarse murmur arose from the 
 
THE COFFEE ROOM OF FLADONG'S. 239 
 
 group, which thickened into a deep-chested cheer. 
 Every one was on his feet, peering and asking 
 each other what it might mean. And still the 
 crowd seethed and the cheering swelled. 
 
 "What is it? What has happened ?" cried a 
 score of voices. 
 
 " Put him up ! Hoist him up ! " shouted some- 
 body, and an instant later I saw an officer appear 
 above the shoulders of the crowd. His face was 
 flushed, and he was waving what seemed to be 
 a letter in the air. The cheering died away, and 
 there was such a hush that I could hear the 
 crackle of the paper in his hand. 
 
 " Great news, gentlemen ! " he roared. " Glo- 
 rious news ! Rear-Admiral Collingwood has di- 
 rected me to communicate it to you. The French 
 ambassador has received his papers to-night. 
 Every ship on the list is to go into commission. 
 Admiral Cornwallis is ordered out of Cawsand 
 Bay, to cruise off Ushant. A squadron is start- 
 ing for the North Sea and another for the Irish 
 Channel ! " 
 
 He may have had more to say, but his audi- 
 ence could wait no longer. How they shouted 
 and stamped and raved in their delight ! Harsh 
 old flag officers, grave post captains, young lieu- 
 tenants, all were roaring like schoolboys breaking 
 up for the holidays. There was no thought now 
 
240 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 of those manifold and weary grievances to which 
 I had listened. The foul weather was passed, 
 and the landlocked seabirds would be out on the 
 foam once more. The rhythm of " God save the 
 King ! " swelled through the babel, and I heard 
 the old lines sung in a way that made you forget 
 their bad rhymes and their bald sentiments. I 
 trust that you will never hear them so sung, with 
 tears upon rugged cheeks, and catchings of the 
 breath from strong men. Dark days will have 
 come again before you hear such a song or see 
 such a sight as that. Let those talk of the phlegm 
 of our countrymen who have never seen them 
 when the lava crust of restraint is broken, and 
 when for an instant the strong enduring fires of 
 the north glow upon the surface. I saw them 
 then, and if I do not see them now I am not so 
 old or so foolish as to doubt that they are there. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 LORD NELSON. 
 
 My father's appointment with Lord Nelson 
 
 was an early one, and he was the more anxious to 
 
 be punctual as he knew how much the admiral's 
 
 movements must be affected by the news which 
 
 he had heard the night before. I had hardly 
 
 breakfasted then and my uncle had not yet rung 
 
 for his chocolate when he called for me at Jermyn 
 
 Street. A walk of a few hundred yards brought 
 
 us to the high building of discoloured brick in 
 
 Piccadilly, which served the Hamiltons as a town 
 
 house, and which Nelson used as his headquarters 
 
 when business or pleasure called him from Mer- 
 
 ton. A footman answered our knock, and we 
 
 were ushered into a large drawing room with 
 
 sombre furniture and melancholy curtains. My 
 
 father sent in his name and there we sat, looking 
 
 at the white Italian statuettes in the corners, and 
 
 the large picture of Vesuvius and the Bay of 
 
 Naples, which hung over the harpsichord. I can 
 
 241 
 
242 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 remember that a black clock was ticking loudly 
 upon the mantelpiece, and that every now and 
 then amid the rumble of the hackney coaches we 
 could hear boisterous laughter from some inner 
 chamber. 
 
 When at last the door opened both my father 
 and I sprang to our feet, thinking to find ourselves 
 face to face with the greatest living Englishman. 
 It was a very different person, however, who 
 swept into the room. 
 
 She was a lady, tall, and, as it seemed to me, 
 exceedingly beautiful, though perhaps one who 
 was more experienced and more critical might 
 have thought that her charm lay in the past 
 rather than in the present. Her queenly figure 
 was moulded upon large and noble lines, while 
 her face, though already tending to become some- 
 what heavy and coarse, was still remarkable for 
 the brilliancy of the complexion, the beauty of 
 the large, light blue eyes, and the tinge of the 
 dark hair, which curled over the low, white fore- 
 head. She carried herself in the most stately 
 fashion, so that as I looked at her majestic en- 
 trance, and at the pose which she struck as she 
 glanced at my father, I was reminded of the 
 Queen of the Peruvians, as, in the person of Miss 
 Hinton, she incited Boy Jim and myself to insur- 
 rection. 
 
LORD NELSON. 243 
 
 " Lieutenant Anson Stone? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, your ladyship," answered my father. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried, with an affected and exag- 
 gerated start. " You know me, then ? " 
 
 " I have seen your ladyship at Naples." 
 
 " Then you have doubtless seen my poor Sir 
 William also — my poor, poor Sir William ! " She 
 touched her dress with her white ring-covered 
 fingers, as if to draw our attention to the fact that 
 she was in the deepest mourning. 
 
 " I heard of your ladyship's sad loss," said my 
 father. 
 
 " We died together," she cried. " What can 
 my life be now save a long-drawn, living death ? " 
 She spoke in a beautiful, rich voice, with the 
 most heartbroken thrill in it, but I could not 
 conceal from myself that she appeared to be one 
 of the most robust persons that I had ever seen, 
 and I was surprised to notice that she shot 
 arch little questioning glances at me, as if the 
 admiration of even so insignificant a person 
 were of some interest to her. My father, 
 in his blunt sailor fashion, tried to stammer 
 out some commonplace condolence, but her 
 eyes swept past his rude, weather-beaten face 
 to ask and reask what effect she had made upon 
 me. 
 
 "There he hangs, the tutelary angel of this 
 
244 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 house," she cried, pointing with a grand, sweep- 
 ing gesture to the painting upon the wall, which 
 represented a very thin-faced, high-nosed gentle- 
 man with several orders upon his coat. " But 
 enough of my private sorrow ! " She dashed in- 
 visible tears from her eyes. " You have come to 
 see Lord Nelson. He bid me say that he would 
 be with you in an instant. You have doubtless 
 heard that hostilities are about to reopen." 
 
 " We heard the news last night." 
 
 " Lord Nelson is under orders to take com- 
 mand of the Mediterranean fleet. You can think 
 that at such a moment — But, ah ! is it not his 
 lordship's step that I hear?" 
 
 My attention was so riveted by the lady's 
 curious manner and by the gestures and attitudes 
 with which she accompanied every remark that I 
 did not see the great admiral enter the room. 
 When I turned he was standing close by my 
 elbow — a small, brown man, with the lithe, slim 
 figure of a boy. He was not clad in uniform, but 
 he wore a high-collared brown coat with the right 
 arm hanging limp and empty by his side. The 
 expression of his face was, as I remember it, ex- 
 ceedingly sad and gentle, with the deep lines 
 upon it which told of the chafing of his urgent 
 and fiery soul. One eye was disfigured and 
 sightless from a wound, but the other looked 
 
LORD NELSON. 
 
 245 
 
 from my father to myself with the quickest and 
 shrewdest of expressions. Indeed, his whole man- 
 ner, with his short, sharp glance and his fine poise 
 of the head, spoke of energy and alertness, so 
 that he reminded me, if I may corppare great 
 things with small, of a well-bred fighting terrier, 
 gentle and slim, but keen and ready for whatever 
 chance might send. 
 
 " Why, Lieutenant Stone," said he, with great 
 cordiality, holding out his left hand to my father, 
 " I am very glad to see you. London is full of 
 Mediterranean men, but I trust that in a week 
 there Avill not be an officer among you all with 
 his feet on dry land." 
 
 " I had come to ask you, sir, if you could as- 
 sist me to a ship." 
 
 " You shall have one. Stone, if my word goes 
 for anything at the admiralty. I shall want all 
 my old Nile men at my back. I can not promise 
 you a first-rate, but at least it shall be a sixty-four- 
 gunship, and I can tell you that there is much to 
 be done with a handy, well-manned-, well-found 
 sixty-four-gunship." 
 
 " Who could doubt it who has heard of the 
 Agamemnon ? " cried Lady Hamilton, and 
 straightway she began to talk of the admiral 
 and of his doings with such extravagance of 
 praise and such a shower of compliments and of 
 
246 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 epithets that my father and I did not know which 
 way to look, feeling shame and sorrow for a man 
 who was compelled to listen to such things said 
 in his own presence. But when I ventured to 
 glance at Lord Nelson I found to my surprise 
 that, far from showing any embarrassment, he 
 was smiling with pleasure, as if this gross flattery 
 of her ladyship's were the dearest thing in all the 
 world to him. 
 
 " Come, come, my dear lady," said he, " you 
 speak vastly beyond my merits," upon which en- 
 couragement she started again in a theatrical 
 apostrophe to Britain's darling and Neptune's 
 eldest son, which he endured with the same signs 
 of gratitude and pleasure. That a man of the 
 world, forty-five years of age, shrewd, honest, and 
 acquainted with courts, should be beguiled by 
 such a crude and coarse homage amazed me, as 
 it did all who knew him, but you who have seen 
 much of life do not need to be told how often the 
 strongest and noblest nature has its one inexpli- 
 cable weakness, showing up the more obviously in 
 contrast to the rest, as the dark stain looks the 
 foulest upon the whitest sheet. " You are a sea 
 officer of my own heart. Stone," said he, when 
 her ladyship had exhausted her panegyric. " You 
 are one of the old breed." He walked up and 
 down the room with little impatient steps as he 
 
.--^^ 
 
 " She must and she shall be ready ! " cried Nelson. 
 
LORD NELSON. 247 
 
 talked, turning with a whisk upon his heel every 
 now and then as if some invisible rail had brought 
 him up. " We are getting too fine for our work 
 with these new-fangled epaulets and quarter- 
 deck trimmings. When I joined the service you 
 would find a lieutenant gammoning and rigging 
 his own bowsprit, or aloft, maybe, with a marlin- 
 spike slung round his neck, showing an example 
 to his men. Now it's as much as he'll do to carry 
 his own sextant up the companion. When could 
 you join?" 
 
 " To-night, my lord." 
 
 " Right, Stone, right ! That is the true spirit. 
 They are working double tides in the yards, but 
 I do not know when the ships will be ready. I 
 hoist my flag on the Victory on Wednesday, and 
 we sail at once." 
 
 " No, no ; not so soon ! She can not be ready 
 for sea," said Lady Hamilton, in a wailing voice, 
 clasping her hands and turning up her eyes as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " She must and she shall be ready," cried Nel- 
 son, with extraordinary vehemence. " By Heaven, 
 if the devil stands at the door I sail on Wednes- 
 day ! Who knows what these rascals may be do- 
 ing in my absence? It maddens me to think of 
 the deviltries which they may be devising. At 
 this very instant, dear lady, the queen, our queen, 
 17 
 
248 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 may be straining her eyes for the topsails of Nel- 
 son's ships." 
 
 " Well, she knows that her stainless knight 
 will never fail her in her need," said Lady Ham- 
 ilton. 
 
 Thinking as I did that they were speaking of 
 our own old Queen Charlotte, I could make no 
 meaning out of this, but my father told me after- 
 ward that both Nelson and Lady Hamilton had - 
 conceived an extraordinary affection for the 
 Queen of Naples, and that it was the interests 
 of her little kingdom which he had so strenu- 
 ously at heart. It may have been my expression 
 of bewilderment which attracted Nelson's atten- 
 tion to me, for he suddenly stopped in his quick 
 quarter-deck walk and looked me up and down 
 with a severe eye. 
 
 " Well, young gentleman ! " said he, sharply. 
 
 " This is my only son, sir," said my father. 
 " It is my wish that he should join the service, if 
 a berth can be found for him, for we have all been 
 king's officers for many generations." 
 
 " So you wish to come and have your bones 
 broken," cried Nelson, roughly, looking with 
 much disfavour at the fine clothes which had 
 cost my uncle and Mr. Brummel such a debate. 
 " You will have to change that grand coat for 
 a tarry jacket if you serve under me, sir." 
 
LORD NELSON. 249 
 
 I was SO embarrassed by the abruptness of 
 his manner that I could but stammer out that 
 I hoped that I should do my duty, on which 
 his stern mouth relaxed into a good-humoured 
 smile, and he laid his little brown hand for an 
 instant upon my shoulder. 
 
 " I dare say that you will do very well," said 
 he. " I can see that you have the stuff in you. 
 But do not imagine that it is a light service 
 which you undertake, young gentleman, when 
 you enter his Majesty's navy. It is a hard pro- 
 fession. You hear of the few who succeed, but 
 what do you know of the hundreds who never 
 find their way? Look at my own luck! Out of 
 two hundred who were with me in the St. Juan 
 expedition, one hundred and forty-five died in a 
 single night. I have been in one hundred and 
 eighty engagements, and I have, as you see, lost 
 my eye and my arm, and been sorely wounded 
 besides. It chanced that I came through, and 
 here I am flying my admiral's flag, but I re- 
 member many a man as good as me who 
 did not come through. Yes," he added, as 
 her ladyship broke in with voluble protest, 
 " many and many as good a man who has 
 gone to the sharks or the land - crabs. But it 
 is a useless sailor who does not risk himself 
 every day, and the lives of all of us are in the 
 
250 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 hands of Him who best knows when to claim 
 them." 
 
 For an instant, in his earnest gaze and rever- 
 ent manner, we seemed to catch a glimpse of the 
 deeper, truer Nelson, the man of the eastern 
 counties, deeply steeped in the virile Puritanism 
 which sent from that district the Ironsides to 
 fashion England within, and the Pilgrim fathers 
 to spread it without. Here was the Nelson who 
 declared that he saw the hand of God pressing 
 upon the French, and who waited on his knees 
 in the cabin of his flagship while she bore down 
 upon the enemy's line. There was a human ten- 
 derness, too, in his way of speaking of his dead 
 comrades, which made me understand why it 
 was that he was so beloved by all who served 
 with him, for, iron-hard as he was as seaman and 
 fighter, there ran through his complex nature a 
 sweet and un-English power of affectionate emo- 
 tion, showing itself in tears, if he were moved, 
 and in such tender impulses as led him after- 
 ward to ask his flag captain to kiss him as 
 he lay dying in the cockpit of the Victory. 
 My father had risen to depart, but the admiral, 
 with that kindliness which he ever showed to 
 the young, and which had been momentarily 
 chilled by the unfortunate splendour of my 
 clothes, still passed up and down in front of us. 
 
LORD NELSON. 25 I 
 
 shooting out crisp little sentences of exhorta- 
 tions and advice. 
 
 " It is ardour that we need in the service, 
 young gentleman," said he. " We need red-hot 
 men who will never rest satisfied. We had them 
 in the Mediterranean, and we shall have them 
 again. There was a band of brothers ! When I 
 was asked to recommend one for special service I 
 told the admiralty they might take the names as 
 they came, for the same spirit animated them all. 
 Had we taken nineteen vessels we should never 
 have said it was well done while the twentieth 
 sailed the seas. You know how it was with us, 
 Stone. You are too old a Mediterranean man for 
 me to tell you anything." 
 
 " I trust, my lord, that I shall be with you 
 when next we meet them," said my father. 
 
 " Meet them we shall and must. By Heaven, I 
 shall never rest until I have given them a shak- 
 ing ! The scoundrel Bonaparte wishes to humble 
 us. Let him try, and God help the better cause ! " 
 He spoke with such extraordinary animation that 
 the empty sleeve flapped about in the air, giving 
 him the strangest appearance. Seeing my eyes 
 fixed upon it, he turned with a smile to my father. 
 
 " I can still work my fin. Stone," said he, put- 
 ting his hand across to the stump, of his arm. 
 " What used they to say in the fleet about it ? " 
 
252 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " That it was a sign, sir, that it was a bad time 
 to cross your hawse." 
 
 " They knew me, the rascals ! You can see, 
 young gentleman, that not a scrap of the ardour 
 with which I serve my country has been shot 
 away. Some day you may find that you are fly- 
 ing your own flag, and when that time comes you 
 may remember that my advice to an officer is that 
 he should have nothing to do with tame, slow 
 measures. Lay all your stake, and if you lose 
 through no fault of your own, the country will 
 find you another stake as large. Never mind 
 manoeuvres ! Go for them ! The only manoeu- 
 vre you need is that which will place you along- 
 side your enemy. Always fight, and you will al- 
 ways be right. Give not a thought to your own 
 ease or your own life, for from the day that you 
 draw the blue coat over your shoulders you have 
 no life of your own. It is the country's, to be 
 most freely spent if the smallest gain can come 
 from it. — How is the wind this morning, Stone ? " 
 
 " East-southeast," my father answered readily. 
 
 " Then Cornwallis is doubtless keeping well 
 up to Brest, though for my own I had rather 
 tempt them out into the open sea." 
 
 "That is what every officer and man in the 
 fleet would prefer, your lordship," said my father. 
 
 " They do not love the blockading service, 
 
LORD NELSON. 
 
 253 
 
 and it is little wonder, since neither money nor 
 honour is to be gained by it. You can remember 
 how it was in the winter months before Toulon, 
 Stone, when we had neither firing, beef, pork, nor 
 flour aboard the ship, nor a spare piece of rope, 
 canvas, or twine. We braced the old hulks with 
 our spare cables, and God knows there was never 
 a Levanter that I did not expect it to send us to 
 the bottom ! But we held our grip all the same. 
 Yet I fear that we do not get much credit for it 
 here in England, Stone, where they light the win- 
 dows for a great battle, but they do not under- 
 stand that it is easier for us to fight the Nile six 
 times over than to keep our station all winter in 
 the blockade. But I pray God that we may meet 
 this new fleet of theirs and settle the matter by a 
 pell-mell battle ! " 
 
 " May I be with you, my lord ! " said my 
 father, earnestly. " But we have already taken 
 too much of your time, and so I beg to thank 
 you for your kindness, and to wish you good 
 morning." 
 
 " Good morning. Stone ! " said Nelson. " You 
 shall have your ship, and if I can make this young 
 gentleman one of my officers it shall be done. 
 But I gather from his dress," he continued, run- 
 ning his eye over me, " that you have been more 
 fortunate in prize money than most of your com- 
 
254 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 rades. For my own part I never did nor could 
 turn my thoughts to money-making." 
 
 My father explained that I had been under 
 the charge of the famous Sir Charles Tregellis, 
 who was my uncle, and with whom I was now 
 residing. 
 
 " Then you need no help from me," said Nel- 
 son, with some bitterness. " If you have either 
 guineas or interest you can climb over the heads 
 of old sea officers, though you may not know the 
 poop from the galley, or a carronade from a long 
 nine. Nevertheless — But what in the devil have 
 we here ? " 
 
 The footman had suddenly precipitated him- 
 self into the room, but stood abashed before the 
 fierce glare of the admiral's eye. 
 
 " Your lordship told me to rush to you with 
 it if it should come," he explained, holding out a 
 large blue envelope. 
 
 " By Heaven, it is my orders ! " cried Nelson, 
 snatching it up and fumbling with it in his awk- 
 ward, one-handed attempt to break the seals. 
 Lady Hamilton ran to his assistance, but no 
 sooner had she glanced at the paper inclosed 
 than she burst into a shrill scream, and, throw- 
 ing up her hands and her eyes, she sank back- 
 ward in a swoon. I could not but observe, 
 however, that her fall was very carefully ex- 
 
LORD NELSON. 255 
 
 ecuted, and that she was fortunate enough, in 
 spite of her insensibility, to arrange her drapery 
 and attitude into a graceful and classical design. 
 But he, the honest seaman, so incapable of deceit 
 or affectation that he could not suspect it in 
 others, ran madly to the bell, shouting for the 
 maid, the doctor, and the smelling salts, with 
 incoherent words of grief and such passionate 
 terms of emotion that ray father thought it 
 more discreet to twitch me by the sleeve as a 
 signal that we should steal out of the room. 
 There we left him, then, in the dim-lit London 
 drawing room, beside himself with pity for this 
 shallow and most artificial woman, while without, 
 at the edge of the Piccadilly curb, there stood 
 the high dark berlin which was ready to start 
 him upon that long journey, which was to end in 
 his chase of the French fleet over seven thousand 
 miles of ocean, his meeting with it, his victory 
 which confined Napoleon's ambition forever to 
 the land, and his death, coming, as I would it 
 might come to all of us, at the crowning mo- 
 ment of his life. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 And now the day of the great fight began to 
 approach. Even the imminent outbreak of war 
 and the threats of Napoleon were secondary 
 things in the eyes of the sportsmen — and the 
 sportsmen in those days made a large half of 
 the population. In the club of the Patrician and 
 the Plebeian gin shop, in the coffee house of the 
 merchant, or the barrack room of the soldier 
 in London or the provinces, the same question 
 was interesting the whole nation. Every west- 
 country coach brought, up word of the fine con- 
 dition of Crab Wilson, who had returned to his 
 own native air for his training, and was known to 
 be under the care of Captain Barclay the expert. 
 On the other hand, although my uncle had not 
 yet formally named his man, there was no doubt 
 among the public that Jim was to be his nomi- 
 nee, and the report of his physique and of his 
 
 performance found him many backers. On- the 
 
 256 
 
ON THE ROAD. 257 
 
 whole, however, the betting remained in favour 
 of Wilson, for Bristol and the west country stood 
 by him to a man, while London opinion was 
 divided. Three to two were to be had at any 
 West End club two days before the battle. 
 
 I had twice been down to Crawley to see 
 Jim in his training quarters, where I found him 
 undergoing the severe regimen which was usual. 
 From early dawn until nightfall he was running, 
 jumping, striking a bladder which swung from a 
 bar, or sparring with his formidable trainer. His 
 eyes shone and his skin glowed with exuberant 
 health, and he was so confident of success that 
 my own misgivings vanished as I watched his 
 gallant bearing and listened to his quiet and 
 cheerful words. 
 
 " But I wonder that you should come and see 
 me now, Roddy," said he when we parted, trying 
 to laugh as he spoke. " I have become a bruiser, 
 and your uncle's paid man, while you are a Co- 
 rinthian upon town. If you had not been the 
 best and truest little gentleman in the world, you 
 would have been my patron instead of my friend 
 before now." 
 
 When I looked at this splendid fellow, with 
 his high-bred, clean-cut face, and thought of the 
 fine qualities and gentle, generous impulses which 
 I knew to lie within him, it seemed so absurd 
 
258 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 that he should speak as though my friendship 
 toward him were a condescension that I could 
 not help laughing aloud. 
 
 " That is all very well, Rodney," said he, look- 
 ing hard into my eyes. " But what does your 
 uncle think about it ? " 
 
 This was a poser, and I could only answer 
 lamely enough that, much as I was indebted to 
 my uncle, I had known Jim first, and that I 
 was surely old enough to choose my own 
 friends. 
 
 Jim's misgivings were so far correct that my 
 uncle did very strongly object to any intimacy 
 between us, but there were so many other points 
 in which he disapproved of my conduct that it 
 made the less difference. I fear that he was 
 already disappointed in me. I would not de- 
 velop an eccentricity, although he was good 
 enough to point out several by which I might 
 come out of the ruck, as he expressed it, and 
 so catch the attention of the strange world in 
 which he lived. 
 
 " You are an active young fellow, nephew," 
 said he. " Do you not think that you could en- 
 gage to climb round the furniture of an ordinary 
 room without setting foot upon the ground? 
 Some little tour de force of the sort is in excellent 
 taste. There was a captain in the Guards who at- 
 
ON THE ROAD. 259 
 
 tained considerable social success by doing it for 
 a small wager. Lady Lievan, who is exceedingly 
 exigeant, used to invite him to her evenings 
 merely that he might exhibit it." 
 
 I had to assure him that the feat would be be- 
 yond me. 
 
 " You are just a little difficile," said he, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. " As my nephew, you' might 
 have taken your position by perpetuating my 
 delicacy of taste. If you had made le mauvais 
 gout your enemy, the world of fashion would 
 willingly have looked upon you as an arbiter by 
 virtue of your family traditions, and you might, 
 without a struggle, have stepped into the position 
 to which this young upstart Brummel aspires. 
 But you have no instinct in that direction. You 
 are incapable of minute attention to detail. Look 
 at your shoes ! Look at your cravat ! Look at 
 your watch-chain ! Two links are enough to 
 show. I have shown three, but it was an indis- 
 cretion. At this moment I can see no less than 
 five of yours. I regret it, nephew, but I do not 
 think that you are destined to attain that position 
 which I have a right to expect from my blood 
 relation." 
 
 " I am sorry to be a disappointment to you, 
 sir," said L 
 
 " It is your misfortune not to have come under 
 
26o RODNEY STONE. 
 
 my influence earlier," said he. " I might then 
 have moulded you so as to have satisfied even 
 my own aspirations. I had a younger brother 
 whose case was a similar one. I did what I could 
 for him, but he would wear ribbons in his shoes, 
 and he publicly mistook white Burgundy for 
 Rhine wine. Eventually the poor fellow took to 
 books "and lived and died in a country vicarage. 
 He was a good man, but he was commonplace, 
 and there is no place in society for commonplace 
 people." 
 
 " Then I fear, sir, that there is none for me," 
 said I. " But my father has every hope th^t 
 Lord Nelson will find me a position in the fleet. 
 If I have been a failure in town I am none the 
 less conscious of your kindness in trying to ad- 
 vance my interests, and I hope that should I re- 
 ceive my commission I may be a credit to you 
 yet." 
 
 " It is possible that you may attain that very 
 spot which I had marked out for you, but by an- 
 other road," said my uncle. "There are many 
 men in town, such as Lord St. Vincent, Lord 
 Hood, and others, who move in the most respect- 
 able circles, although they have nothing but their 
 services in the navy to recommend them." 
 
 It was on the afternoon of the day before the 
 fight that this conversation took place between 
 
ON THE ROAD. 26 1 
 
 my uncle and myself in the dainty sanctum of his 
 Jermyn Street house. He was clad, I remember, 
 in his flowing brocade dressing gown, as was his 
 custom before he set out for his club, and his foot 
 was extended upon a stool, for Abernethy had 
 just been in to treat him from an incipient attack 
 of the gout. It may have been the pain, or it 
 may have been his disappointment at my career, 
 but his manner was more testy than was usual 
 with him, and I fear that there was something 
 of a sneer in his smile as he spoke of my 
 deficiencies. 
 
 For my own part I was relieved at the ex- 
 planation, for my father had left London in the 
 full conviction that a vacancy would be speedily 
 found for us both, and the one thing which had 
 weighed upon my mind was that I might have 
 found it hard to leave my uncle without interfer- 
 ing with the plans which he had formed. I was 
 heart-weary of this empty life, for which I was so 
 ill-fashioned, and weary also of that intolerant 
 talk which would make a coterie of frivolous 
 women and foolish fops the central point of the 
 universe. Something of my uncle's sneer may 
 have flickered upon my lips as I heard him al- 
 lude with supercilious surprise to the presence in 
 those sacro-sanct circles of the men who had stood 
 between the country and destruction. 
 
262 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " By the way, nephew," said he, " gout or no 
 gout, and whether Abernethy likes it or not, we 
 must be down at Crawley to-night. The battle 
 will take place upon Crawley Downs. Sir Lo- 
 thian Hume and his man are at Reigate. I have 
 reserved beds at the George for both of us. The 
 crush will, it is said, exceed anything ever known. 
 The smell of these country inns is always most 
 offensive to me — mais, que voulez vous ? Berke- 
 ley Cravan was saying in the club last night that 
 there is not a bed within twenty miles of Crawley 
 which is not bespoke, and that they are charging 
 three guineas for the night. I hope that your 
 young friend, if I must describe him as such, 
 will fulfil the promise which he has shown, 
 for I have rather more upon the event than 
 I care to lose. Sir Lothian has been plunging, 
 also — he made a single bye-bet of five thousand 
 to three upon Wilson in Liramer's yesterday. 
 From what I hear of his affairs it will be a 
 serious matter for him if we should pull it off. — 
 Well, Lorimer ! " 
 
 " A person to see you. Sir Charles," said the 
 new valet. 
 
 " You know that I never see any one until my 
 dressing is complete." 
 
 " He insists upon seeing you, sir. He pushed 
 open the door." 
 
ON THE ROAD. 263 
 
 " Pushed it open ! What do you mean, Lori- 
 mer? Why didn't you throw him out? " 
 
 A smile passed over the servant's fa.ce. At 
 the same moment there came a deep voice from 
 the passage. 
 
 " You show me in this instant, young man ! 
 D'ye hear ? Let me see your master, or it'll be 
 the worse for you ! " 
 
 I thought that I had heard the voice before, 
 but when over the shoulder of the valet I caught 
 a glimpse of a large, fleshy bull face, with a flat- 
 tened Michael Angelo nose in the centre of it, I 
 knew at once that it was my neighbour at the 
 supper party. 
 
 " It's Warr, the prize-fighter, sir," said I. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said our visitor, pushing his huge 
 
 form into the room. " It's Bill Warr, landlord of 
 
 the One Ton public house, Jermyn Street, and 
 
 the gamest man upon the list. There's only one 
 
 thing that ever beat me. Sir Charles, and that was 
 
 my flesh, which creeps over me that amazin' fast 
 
 that I've always four stone. that has no business 
 
 there. Why, sir, I've got enough to spare to 
 
 make a featherweight champion out of. You'd 
 
 hardly think to look at me that even after Men- 
 
 doza fought me I was able to jump the four-foot 
 
 ropes at the ringside just as light as a little kiddy, 
 
 but if I was to chuck my castor into the ring now 
 18 
 
264 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 I'd never get it till the wind blew it out again, for 
 blow my dickey if I could climb after ! — My re- 
 spects to you, young sir, and I hope I see you 
 well ! " 
 
 My uncle's face had expressed considerable 
 disgust at this invasion of his privacy, but it was 
 part of his position to be on good terms with the 
 fighting men, so he contented himself with asking 
 curtly what business had brought him there. For 
 answer the huge prize-fighter looked meaningly 
 at the valet. 
 
 " It's important. Sir Charles, and between man 
 and man," said he. 
 
 " You may go, Lorimer. — Now, Warr, what is 
 the matter ? " 
 
 The bruiser very calmly seated himself astride 
 of a chair, with his arms resting upon the back 
 of it. 
 
 " I've got information, Sir Charles," said he. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " cried my uncle, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Information of value." 
 
 " Out with it, then ! " 
 
 " Information that's worth money," said Warr, 
 and pursed up his lips. 
 
 " I see — you want to be paid for what you 
 know ? " 
 
 The prize-fighter smiled an affirmative. 
 
ON THE ROAD. 265 
 
 " Well, I don't buy things on trust. You 
 should know me better than to try on such a game 
 with me." 
 
 " I know you for what you are, Sir Charles, 
 and that is a noble, slap-up Corinthian. But if I 
 was to use this against you, d'ye see, it would be 
 worth hundreds in my pocket. But my 'eart 
 won't let me do it, for Bill Warr's always been on 
 the side o' good sport and fair play. If I use it 
 for you I expects that you won't see me the 
 loser." 
 
 " You can do what you like," said my uncle. 
 " If your news is of service to me, I shall know 
 how to treat you." 
 
 " You can't say fairer than that. We'll let it 
 stand there, gov'nor, and you'll do the 'andsome 
 thing as you 'ave always 'ad the name of doin'. 
 Well, then, your man, Jim 'Arrison, fights Crab 
 Wilson, of Gloucester, on Crawley Down to-mor- 
 row mornin' for a stake." 
 
 " What of that ? " 
 
 " Did you 'appen to know what the bettin' was 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " It was three to two on Wilson." 
 
 "Right you are, gov'nor. It's seven to one 
 against your man to-day." 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 " Seven to one, gov'nor ; no less." 
 
266 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " You're talking nonsense, Warr ! How could 
 the betting change from three to two to seven to 
 one ? " 
 
 " I've been to Tom Owen's, and I've been to 
 the 'Ole in the Wall, and I've been to the Wagon 
 and 'Orses, and you can get seven to one in any 
 of them. There's tons of money being laid against 
 your man. It's a 'orse to a 'en in every sportin' 
 'ouse and boozin' ken from 'ere to Stepney." 
 
 For a moment the expression upon my uncle's 
 face made me realize that this match was really 
 a serious matter to him. Then he shrugged his 
 shoulders with an incredulous smile. 
 
 " All the worse for the fools who give the 
 odds," said he. " My man is all right. You saw 
 him yesterday, nephew ? " 
 
 " He was all right yesterday, sir." 
 
 " If anything had gone wrong I should have 
 heard." 
 
 " But perhaps," said Warr meaningly, " it 'as 
 not gone wrong with 'im yet." 
 
 " What d'you mean ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you what I mean, sir. You remem- 
 ber Berks ? You know that he ain't to be much 
 depended upon at any time, and that he had a 
 grudge against your man 'cause he laid 'im out in 
 the coach house. Well, last night, about ten 
 o'clock, in he comes into my bar, and the three 
 
ON THE ROAD. 267 
 
 bloodiest rogues in London at 'is 'eels. There 
 was Red Ike, 'im that was warned off the ring 
 'cause 'e fought a cross with Bittoon. And there 
 was Fightin' Yussef, who would sell his mother 
 for a aeven-shillin' bit. The third was Chris Mc- 
 Carthy, who is a fogle-snatcher by trade with a 
 pitch outside the Haymarket Theatre. You don't 
 often see four such beauties together, and all 
 with as much as they could carry, save only Chris, 
 who is' too leary a cove to drink when there's 
 somethin' goin' forward. For my part I showed 
 them into the parlour, not 'cos they was worthy 
 of it, but 'cos I knew right well they would start 
 bashin' some of my customers and maybe get my 
 license into trouble if I left 'em in the bar. I 
 served 'em with drink and staid with 'em just 
 to see that they didn't lay their 'ands on the 
 stuffed paroquet and the pictures. 
 
 " Well, gov'nor, to cut it short, they began to 
 talk about the fight, and they all laughed at the 
 idea that young Jim 'Arrison could win it — all 
 except Chris, and 'e kept a-nudgin' and a-twitchin' 
 at the others until Joe Berks nearly gave him a 
 wipe across the face for his trouble. I saw some- 
 thin' was in the wind, and it wasn't very 'ard to 
 guess what it was, especially when Red Ike was 
 ready to put up a fiver that Jim 'Arrison would 
 never fight at all. So 1 up to get another bottle 
 
268 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 of liptrap and I slipped round to the shutter that 
 we pass the liquor through from the private bar 
 into the parlour. I drew it an inch open, and I 
 might 'ave been at the table with them I could 
 ear every word that clearly. 
 
 " There was Chris McCarthy growlin' at them 
 for not keepin' their tongues still, and there was 
 Joe Berks swearin' that 'e would knock 'is face in 
 if 'e dared give 'im any of 'is lip. So Chris 'e 
 sort of argued with 'em, for 'e was frightened of 
 Berks, and 'e put it to them whether they would 
 be fit for the job in the mornin', and whether the 
 gov'nor would pay the money if 'e found they 'ad 
 been drinkin', and were not to be trusted. This 
 struck them sober, all three, and Fightin' Yussef 
 asked what time they were to start. Chris said 
 that as long as they were at Crawley before the 
 George shut up they could work it. ' It's poor 
 pay for a chance of a rope ! ' said Red Ike. 
 ' Rope be damned ! ' cried Chris, taking a little 
 loaded stick out of 'is side pocket. ' If three of 
 you 'old 'im down and I break 'is arm-bone with 
 this, we've earned our money, and we don't risk 
 more'n six months' skilly and crank.' ' He'll 
 fight,' said Berks. ' Well, it's the only fight 'e'll 
 get,' said Chris. And that was all I 'eard of it. 
 This mornin' out I went, and I found, as I told 
 you, that the money is goin' on to Wilson by the 
 
ON THE ROAD. 269 
 
 ton, and. that no odds are too long for the layers. 
 So it stands, gov'nor, and you know what the 
 meanin' of it may be better than Bill Warr can 
 tell you." 
 
 " Very good, Warr," said my uncle, rising. 
 " I am very much obliged to you for telling me 
 this, and I will see that you are not a loser by it. 
 I put it down as the gossip of drunken ruffians, 
 but none the less you have served me vastly by 
 calling my attention to it. I suppose I shall see 
 you at the Downs to-morrow ? " 
 
 " Mr. Jackson 'as asked me to be one o' the 
 beaters-out, sir." 
 
 " Very good. I hope that we shall have a fair 
 and good fight. Good day to you, and thank 
 you." 
 
 My uncle had preserved his jaunty demeanour 
 as long as Warr was in the room, but the door 
 had hardly closed upon him before he turned to 
 me with a face which was more agitated than I 
 had ever seen it. 
 
 " We must be off for Crawley at once, nephew," 
 said he, ringing the bell. " There's npt a moment 
 to be lost. — Lorimer, order the bays to be har- 
 nessed in the curricle. Put the toilet things in, 
 and tell William to have it round at the door as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 " I'll see to it, sir," said I, and away I ran to 
 
270 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 the mews in Little Ryder Street, where my uncle 
 stabled his horses. The groom was away, and I 
 had to send a lad in search of him, while with the 
 help of the liveryman I dragged the curricle - 
 from the coach house and brought the two mares 
 out of their stalls. It was half an hour, or possi- 
 bly three quarters, before everything had been 
 found, and Lorimer was already waiting in Jer- 
 myn Street with the inevitable baskets, while my 
 uncle stood in the open door of his house clad in 
 his long fawn-coloured driving coat, with no sign 
 upon his calm face of the tumult of impatience 
 which must, I was sure, be raging within. 
 
 " We shall leave you, Lorimer," said he. " We 
 might find it hard to get a bed for you. Keep at 
 her head, William !-— Jump in, nephew. — Hullo, 
 Warr ! what is the matter now ? " 
 
 The prize-fighter was hastening toward us as 
 fast as his bulk would allow. 
 
 "Just one word before you go, Sir Charles," 
 he panted. " I've just 'card in my tap room that 
 the four men I spoke of left for Crawley at one 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Very good, Warr," said my uncle, with his 
 foot upon the step. 
 
 " And the odds have risen to ten to one." 
 
 " Let go her head, William ! " 
 
 " Just one more word, gov'nor. You'll excuse 
 
ON THE ROAD. 
 
 271 
 
 the liberty, but if I was you I'd take my pistols 
 with me." 
 
 " Thank you. I have them." The long thong 
 cracked between the ears of the leader, the groom 
 sprang for the pavement, and Jermyn Street had 
 changed for St. James, and that again for White- 
 hall with a swiftness which showed that the gal- 
 lant mares were as impatient as their master. It 
 was 4.30 by the Parliament clock as we flew onto 
 Westminster bridge. There was the flash of 
 water beneath us, and then we were between 
 those two long dun-coloured lines of houses which 
 had been the avenue which had led up to Lon- 
 don. My uncle sat with tightened lips and a 
 brooding brow. We had reached Streathom be- 
 fore he broke the silence. 
 
 " I have a good deal at stake, nephew," 
 said he. 
 
 " So have I, sir," I answered. 
 
 " You ! " he cried, in surprise. 
 
 " My friend, sir." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I had forgot. You have some ec- 
 centricities, after all, nephew. You are a faithful 
 friend, which is a rare enough thing in our cir- 
 cles, r never had but one friend of my own 
 position, and he — but you've heard me tell the 
 story. I fear it will be dark before we reach 
 Crawley." 
 
272 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " I fear that it will." 
 
 " In that case we may be too late." 
 
 " Pray God not, sir ! " 
 
 " We sit behind the best cattle in England, 
 but I fear lest we find the roads blocked before 
 we get to Crawley. Did you observe, nephew, 
 that these four villains spoke in Warr's hearing 
 of the master who was behind them, and who was 
 paying them for their infamy ? Did you not un- 
 derstand that they were hired to cripple my man ? 
 Who, then, could have hired them ? Who had 
 an interest unless it was — I know Sir Lothian 
 Hume to be a desperate man. I know that he 
 has had heavy card losses at Watier's and White's. 
 I know also that he has much at stake upon this 
 event, and that he has plunged upon it with a 
 rashness which made his friends think that he had 
 some private reason for being satisfied as to the 
 result. By Heaven ! It all hangs together ! If 
 it should be so ! " He relapsed into silence, but I 
 saw the same look of cold fierceness settle upon 
 his features which I had marked there when he 
 and Sir John Lade had raced wheel to wheel 
 down the Godstone road. 
 
 The sun sank slowly toward the low Surrey 
 hills, and the shadows crept steadily eastward, but 
 the whirr of the wheels and the roar of the hoofs 
 never slackened. A fresh wind blew upon our 
 
ON THE ROAD. 273 
 
 faces, while the young leaves drooped motionless 
 from the wayside branches. The golden edge of 
 the sun was just sinking behind the oaks of Rei- 
 gate Hill when the dripping mares drew up before 
 the Crown at Redhill. The landlord, an old 
 sportsman and ring-sider, ran out to greet so well- 
 known a Corinthian as Sir Charles Tregellis. 
 
 " You know Berks, the bruiser ? " asked my 
 uncle. 
 
 " Yes, Sir Charles." 
 
 " Has he passed ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir Charles. It may have been about 
 four o'clock, though with this crowd of folk and 
 carriages it's hard to swear to it. There was him 
 and Red Ike and Fighting Yussef, the Jew, and 
 another, with a good bit of blood betwixt the 
 shafts. They'd been driving her hard, too, for 
 she was all in a lather." 
 
 " That's ugly, nephew," said my uncle, when 
 we were flying onward toward Reigate. " If 
 they drove so hard it looks as though they wished 
 to get early to work." 
 
 " Jim and Belcher would surely be a match 
 for the four of them," I suggested. 
 
 " If Belcher were with him I should have no 
 fear. But you can not tell what diablerie they 
 may be up to. Let us only find him safe and 
 sound, and I'll never lose sight of him till I see 
 
274 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 him in the ring. We'll sit up on guard, with our 
 pistols, nephew, and I only trust that these' vil- 
 lains may be indiscreet enough to attempt it. 
 But they must have been very sure of success 
 before they put the odds up to such a figure, 
 and it is that which alarms me." 
 
 " But surely they have nothing to win by such 
 villainy, sir ? If they w^ere to hurt Jim Harrison 
 the battle could not be fought and the bets would 
 not be decided." 
 
 " So it would be in an ordinary prize battle, 
 nephew, and it is fortunate that it should be so, 
 or the rascals who infest the ring would soon 
 make all sport impossible. But here it is differ- 
 ent. On the terms of the wager I lose unless I 
 can produce a man within the prescribed ages 
 who can beat Crab Wilson. You must remem- 
 ber that I have never named my man. C'est 
 dommage, but so it is ! We know who it is, 
 and so do our opponents, but the referees and 
 stakeholders would take no notice of that. If 
 we complain that Jim Harrison has been crippled, 
 they would answer that they have no official 
 knowledge that Jim Harrison was our nominee. 
 It's play or pay, and the villains are taking ad- 
 vantage of it." 
 
 My uncle's fears as to our being blocked upon 
 the road were only too well founded, for after we 
 
ON THE ROAD. 
 
 275 
 
 passed Reigate there was such a procession ot 
 every sort of vehicle that I believe for the whole 
 eight miles there was not a horse whose nose 
 was farther than a few feet from the back of 
 the curricle or barouche in front. Every road 
 leading from London, as well as those from 
 Guildford in the west and Tunbridge in the 
 east, had contributed their stream of four-in- 
 hands, gigs, and mounted sportsmen, until the 
 whole broad Brighton highway was choked from 
 ditch to ditch with a laughing, singing, shouting 
 throng, all flowing in the same direction. No 
 man who looked upon that motley crowd could 
 deny that for good or evil the love of the ring 
 was confined to no class, but was a national pe- 
 culiarity, deeply seated in the English nature, 
 and a common heritage of the young aristocrat 
 in his drag and of the rough costers sitting six 
 deep in their pony-cart. 
 
 There I saw statesmen and soldiers, nobleman 
 and lawyers, farmers and squires, with roughs of 
 the East End and yokels of the shires, all toiling 
 along with the prospect of a night of discomfort 
 before them, on the chance of seeing a fight, 
 which might, for all that they knew, be decided 
 in a single round. A more cheery and hearty set 
 of people could not be imagined, and the chaff 
 flew about as thick as the dust clouds, while 
 
276 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 at every wayside inn the landlord and the 
 drawers would be out with trays of foam- 
 headed tankards to moisten those importunate 
 throats. The ale-drinking, the rude good-fel- 
 lowship, the heartiness, the laughter at discom- 
 forts, the craving to see the fight, all these 
 may be set down as vulgar and trivial by 
 those to whom they are distasteful, but to me, 
 listening to the far-off and uncertain echoes of 
 our distant past, they seem to have been the 
 very bones upon which much that is most solid 
 and virile in this ancient race was moulded. 
 
 But, alas for our chance of hastening on- 
 ward ! Even my uncle's skill could not pick 
 a passage through that moving mass. We 
 could but fall into our places and be content 
 to snail along from Reigate to Horley and 
 on to Povey Cross, and over Lowfield Heath, 
 while day shaded away into twilight and that 
 deepened into night. At Kimberham bridge 
 the carriage lamps were all lit, and it was 
 wonderful where the road curved downward 
 before us to see this writhing serpent with 
 the golden scales crawling before us in the 
 darkness. And then at last we saw the form- 
 less mass of the huge Crawley Elm looming 
 before us in the gloom, and there was the 
 broad village street with the glimmer of the 
 
ON THE ROAD. 277 
 
 cottage windows, and the high front of the 
 old George Inn glowing from every door and 
 pane and crevice in honour of the noble com- 
 pany who were to sleep within that night. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FOUL PLAY. 
 
 My uncle's impatience would not suffer him 
 to wait for the slow rotation which would bring 
 us to the door, but he flung the reins and a crown 
 piece to one of the rough fellows who thronged 
 the sidewalk, and pushing his way vigorously 
 through the crowd he made for the entrance. As 
 he came within the circle of light thrown by the 
 windows a whisper ran around as to who this 
 masterful gentleman with the pale face and the 
 driving coat might be, and a lane was formed to 
 admit us. I had never before understood the 
 popularity of my uncle in the sporting world, for 
 the folk began to huzza as we passed, with cries 
 of " Hurrah for Buck Tregellis ! — Good luck to 
 you and your man. Sir Charles ! — Clear a path 
 for a bang-up noble Corinthian ! " while the land- 
 lord, attracted by the shouting, came running out 
 to greet us. 
 
 " Good evening. Sir Charles ! " he cried. " I 
 
 278 
 
A larie was formed to admit us. 
 
FOUL PLAY. 279 
 
 hope I see you well, sir, and I trust that you will 
 find that your man does credit to the George." 
 
 " How is he ? " asked my uncle, quickly. 
 
 " Never better, sir. Looks a picture, he does 
 — and fit to fight for a kingdom." 
 
 My uncle gave a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Where is he ? " he asked. 
 
 " He's gone to his room, early, sir, seein' that 
 he had some very partic'lar business to-morrow 
 mornin'," said the landlord, grinning. 
 
 " Where is Belcher ? " 
 
 " Here he is, sir, in the bar parlour." 
 
 He opened a door as he spoke, and looking 
 in we saw a? score of well-dressed men, some of 
 whose faces had become familiar to me during 
 my short West End career, seated round a table, 
 upon which stood a steaming soup tureen filled 
 with punch. At the farther end, very much at his 
 ease among the aristocrats and exquisites who 
 surrounded him, sat the champion of England, 
 his superb figure thrown back in his chair, a flush 
 upon his handsome face, and a loose red hand- 
 kerchief knotted carelessly round his throat in 
 the picturesque fashion which was long known 
 by his name. Half a century has passed since 
 then, and I have seen my share of fine men. Per- 
 haps it is because I am a slight creature myself, 
 but it is my peculiarity ; I had rather look upon a 
 19 
 
28o RODNEY STONE. 
 
 splendid man than upon any work of Nature. Yet 
 during all that time I have never seen a finer man 
 than Jem Belcher, and if I wish to match him in 
 my memory I can only turn to that other Jim 
 whose fate and fortunes 1 am trying to lay before 
 you. 
 
 There was a shout of jovial greeting when my 
 uncle's face was seen in the doorway. 
 
 " Come in, Tregellis ! We were expecting 
 you ! — There's a devilled bladebone ordered. 
 — What's the latest from London ? — What is the 
 meaning of the long odds against your man ? — 
 Have the folk gone mad ? — What the devil is it 
 all about ? " They were all talking at once. 
 
 " Excuse me, gentlemen," my uncle answered. 
 " I shall be happy to give you any information 
 in my power a little later. I have a matter of 
 some slight importance to decide. — Belcher, I 
 would have a word with you ! " 
 
 The champion came with us into the passage. 
 
 " Where is your man, Belcher ? " 
 
 " He has gone to his room, sir. I believe that 
 he should have a clear twelve hours' sleep before 
 fighting." 
 
 " What sort of day has he had ? " 
 
 " I did him lightly in the matter of exercise. 
 Clubs, dumbbells, walking, and a half hour with 
 the mufflers. He'll do us all proud, sir, or I'm a 
 
FOUL PLAY. 281 
 
 Dutchman ! But what in the world's amiss with 
 the betting ? If I didn't know that he was as 
 straight as a line, I'd 'a' thought he was planning 
 a cross and laying against himself." 
 
 " It's about that I've hurried down. I have 
 good information, Belcher, that there has been a 
 plot to cripple him, and that the rogues are so 
 sure of success that they are prepared to lay any- 
 thing against his appearance." 
 
 Belcher whistled between his teeth. 
 
 " I've seen no sign of anything of the kind, sir. 
 No one has been near him, or had speech with 
 him, except only your nephew there and myself." 
 
 " Four villains with Berks at their head got 
 the start of us by several hours. It was Warr 
 who told me." 
 
 " What Bill Warr says is straight, and what 
 Joe Berks does is crooked. Who were the 
 others, sir ? " 
 
 " Red Ike, Fighting Yussef, and Chris Mc- 
 Carthy." 
 
 " A pretty gang, too ! Well, sir, the lad is 
 safe, but it would be as well perhaps for one or 
 other of us to stay in his room with him. For 
 my own part, as long as he's my charge I'm never 
 very far away." 
 
 " It is a pity to wake him." 
 
 " He can hardly be asleep with all this racket 
 
282 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 in the house. This way, sir, and down the pas- 
 sage ! " 
 
 We passed along the low-roofed devious cor- 
 ridors of the old-fashioned inn to the back of the 
 house. 
 
 " This is my room, sir," said Belcher, nodding 
 to a door upon the right. " This one upon the 
 left is his." He threw it open as he spoke. 
 " Here's Sir Charles Tregellis come to see you, 
 Jim," said he — and then, " Good Lord ! what is 
 the meaning of this ? " 
 
 The little chamber lay before us, brightly illu- 
 minated by a brass lamp, which stood upon the 
 table. The bedclothes had not been turned 
 down, but there was an indentation upon the 
 counterpane which showed that some one had 
 lain there. One half of the lattice window was 
 swinging on its hinge, and a cloth cap, lying 
 upon the table, was the only sign of the occupant. 
 My uncle looked round him and shook his head. 
 
 " It seems that we are too late," said he. 
 
 " That's his cap, sir. Where in the world can 
 he have gone to with his head bare ? I thought 
 he was safe in his bed an hour ago. — Jim ! Jim ! " 
 he shouted. 
 
 " He has certainly gone through the window," 
 cried my uncle. " I believe these villains have 
 enticed him out by some devilish device of their 
 
FOUL PLAY. 283 
 
 own. — Hold the lamp, nephew ! — Ha, I thought 
 so ! Here are his footmarks upon the flower bed 
 outside ! " 
 
 The landlord and one or two of the Corin- 
 thians from the bar parlour had followed us to 
 the back of the house. Some one had opened 
 the side door, and we found ourselves in the kit- 
 chen garden, where, clustering upon the gravel 
 path, we were able to hold the lamp over the 
 soft newly turned earth which lay between us 
 and the window. 
 
 " That's his footmark ! " cried Belcher, " He 
 wore his running boots this evening, and you can 
 see the nails. But what's this ? Some one else 
 has been here." 
 
 " A woman ! " I cried. 
 
 " By Heaven, you are right, Rodney ! " said 
 my uncle. 
 
 Belcher gave a hearty curse. 
 
 " He never had a word to say to any girl in 
 the village. I took partic'lar notice of that. 
 And to think of them coming in like this at the 
 last moment ! " 
 
 " It's clear as possible, Tregellis," said the 
 Honourable Berkeley Craven, who was one of 
 the company from the bar parlour. " Whoever 
 it was came outside the window and tapped. 
 You see here and here the small feet have their 
 
284 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 toes to the house, while the others are all leading 
 away. She came to summon him, and he fol- 
 lowed her." 
 
 " That is perfectly certain," said my uncle. 
 " There's not a moment to be lost. We must 
 divide and search in different directions, unless 
 we can get some clew as to where they have 
 gone." 
 
 " There's only this one path out of the gar- 
 den," cried the landlord, leading the way. " It 
 opens out into this back lane, which leads up to 
 the stables. The other end of the lane goes out 
 into the side road." 
 
 The bright yellow glare from a stable lantern 
 cut a ring suddenly from the darkness, and an 
 ostler came lounging out of the yard. 
 
 " Who's that?" cried the landlord. 
 
 " It's me, master. Bill Shields." 
 
 " How long have you been there. Bill?" 
 
 " Well, master, I've been in an ' out of the 
 stable this hour back. We can't pack in another 
 'orse, and there's no use tryin'. I daren't 'ardly 
 give them their feed, for if they was to thicken 
 out just ever so little " 
 
 " See here. Bill ! Be careful how you answer, 
 for a mistake may cost you your place. Have 
 you seen any one pass down the lane ? " 
 
 " There was a fellow in a rabbit-skin cap some 
 
FOUL PLAY. 285 
 
 time ago. 'E was loiterin' about, until I asked 
 'im what 'is business was, for I didn't care about 
 the looks of 'im, or the way that 'e was peepin' in 
 at the windows. I turned the stable lantern onto 
 'im, but 'e ducked 'is face, an' I could only swear 
 to 'is red 'ead." 
 
 I cast a quick glance at my uncle, and I saw 
 that the shadow had deepened upon his face. 
 
 " What became of him ? " he asked. 
 
 " 'E slouched away, sir, an' I saw the last of 
 'im." 
 
 " You've seen no one else ? You didn't, for 
 example, see a woman and a man pass down the 
 lane together ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Or hear anything unusual ? " 
 
 " Why, now that you mention it, sir, I did 'ear 
 somethin', but on a night like this, when all these 
 London blades are in the village " 
 
 " What was it, then ? " cried my uncle, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Well, sir, it was a kind of a cry out yonder, 
 as if some one 'ad got 'imself into trouble. I 
 thought maybe two sparks were fightin', and I 
 took no partic'lar notice." 
 
 " Where did it come from ? " 
 
 " From the side road yonder." 
 
 " Was it distant ? " 
 
286 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " No, sir ; I should say it didn't come from 
 more'n two hundred yards." 
 
 " A single cry ? " 
 
 " Well, it was a kind of a screech, sir ; and 
 then I 'eard somebody drivin' very 'ard down the 
 road. I remember thinkin' that it was strange 
 that any one should be drivin' away from Craw- 
 le}' on a great night like this." 
 
 My uncle seized the lantern from the fellow's 
 hand, and we all trooped behind him down the 
 lane. At the farther end the road cut it across 
 at right angles. Down this my uncle hastened, 
 but his search was not a long one, for the glaring 
 light fell suddenly upon something which brought 
 a groan to my lips and a bitter curse to those of 
 Belcher. Along the white surface of the dusty 
 highway there was drawn a long smear of crim- 
 son, while beside this ominous stain there lay a 
 murderous little pocket bludgeon, such as Warr 
 had described in the morning. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CRAWLEY DOWNS. 
 
 All through that weary night my uncle and 
 I, with Belcher, Berkeley Craven, and a dozen of 
 the Corinthians, searched the countryside for 
 some trace of our missing man, but save for that 
 ill-boding splash upon the road, not the slightest 
 clew could be obtained ^s to what had befallen 
 him. No one had seen or heard anything of him, 
 and the single cry in the night of which the ostler 
 told us was the only indication of the tragedy 
 which had taken place. In small parties we 
 scoured the country as far as East Grinstead and 
 Bletchingly, and the sun had been long over the 
 horizon before we found ourselves back at Craw- 
 ley once more, with heavy hearts and tired feet. 
 My uncle, who had driven to Reigate in the 
 hope of gaining some intelligence, did not re- 
 turn until past seven o'clock, and a glance at his 
 face gave us the same black news which he gath- 
 ered from ours. 
 
 387 
 
288 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 We held a council round our dismal breakfast 
 table, to which Mr. Berkeley Craven was invited 
 as a man of sound wisdom and large experience 
 in matters of sport. Belcher was half frenzied by 
 this sudden ending of all the pains which he had 
 taken in the training, and could only rave out 
 threats at Berks and his companions, with terrible 
 menaces as to what he would do when he met 
 them. My uncle sat grave and thoughtful, eating 
 nothing and drumming his fingers upon the table, 
 while my heart was heavy within me, and I could 
 have sunk my face into my hands and burst into 
 tears as I thought how powerless I was to aid 
 my friend. Mr. Craven, a fresh-faced, alert man 
 of the world, was the only one of us who seemed 
 to preserve both his wits and his appetite. 
 
 " Let me see ! The fight was to be at ten, was 
 it not?" he asked. 
 
 " It was to be." 
 
 " I dare say it will be, too. Never say die, 
 Tregellis ! Your man has still three hours in 
 which to come back." 
 
 My uncle shook his head. 
 
 " The villains have done their work too well 
 for that, I fear," said he. 
 
 " Well, now, let us reason it out," said Berke- 
 ley Craven. " A woman comes and she coaxes 
 this young man out of his room. Do you know 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 
 
 289 
 
 any young woman who had an influence over 
 him ? " 
 
 My uncle looked at me. 
 
 " No," said I, " I know of none." 
 
 " Well, we know that she came," said Berkeley 
 Craven. " There can be no question as to that. 
 She brought some piteous tale, no doubt, such as 
 a gallant young man could hardly refuse to listen 
 to. He fell into the trap and allowed himself to 
 be decoyed to the place where these rascals were 
 waiting for him. We may take all that as proved, 
 I should fancy, Tregellis." 
 
 " I see no better explanation," said my uncle. 
 
 " Well, then, it is obviously not the interest of 
 these men to kill him. Warr heard them say as 
 much. They could not make sure, perhaps, of 
 doing so tough a young fellow an injury which 
 would certainly prevent him from fighting. Even 
 with a broken arm he might pull the fight off, as 
 men have done before. There was too much 
 money on for them to run any risks. They gave 
 him a tap on the head, therefore, to prevent his 
 making too much resistance, and they then drove 
 him off to some farmhouse or stable, where they 
 will hold him a prisoner until the time for the 
 fight is over. I warrant that you see him before 
 night as well as ever he was." 
 
 This theory sounded so reasonable that it 
 
2go RODNEY STONE. 
 
 seemed to lift a little of the load off my heart, but 
 I could see that from my uncle's point of view it 
 was a poor consolation. 
 
 " I dare say you are right, Craven," said he. 
 
 " I am sure that I am." 
 
 " But it won't help us to win the fight." 
 
 "That's the point, sir," cried Belcher. "By 
 the Lord, I wish they'd let me take his place, even 
 with my left arm strapped behind me ! " 
 
 " I should advise you, in any case, to go to the 
 ringside," said Craven. " You should hold on 
 until the last moment, in the hope of your man 
 turning up." 
 
 " I shall certainly do so. And I shall protest 
 against paying the wagers under such circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Craven shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You remember the conditions of the match," 
 said he. " I fear it is play or pay. No doubt 
 the point might be submitted to the referees, 
 but I can not doubt that they would have to 
 give it against you." 
 
 We had sunk into a melancholy silence, when 
 suddenly Belcher sprang up from the table. 
 
 " By George ! " he cried, " hark to that ! " 
 
 " What is it ? " we cried all three. 
 
 " The betting ! Hark again ! " 
 
 Out of the babel of voices and roaring of 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 29 1 
 
 wheels outside the window a single sentence 
 struck sharply upon our ears. 
 
 " Even money upon Sir Charles's nominee ! " 
 
 " Even money ! " cried ray uncle. " It was 
 seven to one against me yesterday. What is 
 the meaning of this ? " 
 
 " Even money either way ! " cried the voice 
 again. 
 
 " There's somebody knows something," said 
 Belcher, " and there's nobody has a better right 
 to know what it is than we — Come on, sir, and 
 we'll get to the bottom of it." 
 
 The village street was packed with people, for 
 they had been sleeping twelve and fifteen in a 
 room, while hundreds of gentlemen had spent 
 the night in their carriages. So thick was the 
 throng that it was no easy matter to get out of 
 the door of the George. A drunken man, snor- 
 ing horribly in his breathing, was curled up in 
 the passage, absolutely oblivious to the stream of 
 people who flowed round and occasionally over 
 him. 
 
 " What's the betting, boys ? " asked Belcher 
 from the steps. 
 
 " Even money, Jem," cried several voices. 
 
 " It was long odds on Wilson when last I 
 heard." 
 
 " Yes, but there came a man who laid freely 
 
292 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 the other way, and he started others taking the 
 odds until now you can get even money." 
 
 " Who started it ? " 
 
 " Why, that's he ! The man that lies drunk 
 in the passage. He's been pouring it down like 
 water ever since he drove in at six o'clock, so it's 
 no wonder he's gone under." 
 
 Belcher stooped down and turned over the 
 man's inert head. 
 
 " He's a stranger to me, sir." 
 
 " And to me," added my uncle. 
 
 " But not to me," I cried. " It's John Gum- 
 ming, the landlord of the inn at Friar's Oak. 
 I've known him ever since I was a boy, and I 
 can't be mistaken." 
 
 " Well, what the devil can he know about it? " 
 said Craven. 
 
 " Nothing at all, in all probability," answered 
 ray uncle. " He is backing young Jim because 
 he knows him, and because he has more brandy 
 than sense. His drunken confidence set others 
 to do the same, and so the odds came down." 
 
 " He was as sober as a judge when he drove 
 in here this morning," said the landlord. " He 
 began backing Sir Charles's nominee from the 
 moment he arrived. Some of the other boys 
 took the office from him, and they very soon 
 brought the odds down, among them." 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 293 
 
 " I wish he had not brought himself down 
 as well," said my uncle. " I beg that you 
 bring me a little lavender water, landlord, for 
 the smell of this crowd is -appalling — I sup- 
 pose you couldn't get any sense out of this 
 drunken fellow, nephew, or find out what it 
 is he knows." 
 
 It was in vain that I rocked him by the 
 shoulder and shouted his name in his ear. 
 Nothing could break in upon that serene in- 
 toxication. 
 
 " Well, it's a unique situation, as far as my ex- 
 perience goes," said Berkeley Craven. " Here we 
 are, within a couple of hours of the fight, and yet 
 you don't know whether you have a man to rep- 
 resent you. I hope you don't stand to lose very 
 much, Tregellis." 
 
 My uncle shrugged his shoulders carelessly 
 and took a pinch of his snuff with that inimitable 
 sweeping gesture which no man has ever ven- 
 tured to imitate. 
 
 " Pretty well, my boy ! " said he. " But it is 
 time that we thought of going up to the Downs. 
 This night journey has left me just a little efHeur6, 
 and I should like half an hour of privacy to ar- 
 range my toilet. If this is my last kick, it shall 
 at least be with a well-brushed boot." 
 
 I have heard a traveller from the wilds of 
 
294 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 America say that he looked upon the red Indian 
 and the English gentleman as closely akin, citing 
 the passion for sport, the aloofness, and the sup- 
 pression of the emotions in each. I thought of his 
 words as I watched my uncle that morning, for I 
 believe that no victim tied to the stake could 
 have had a worse outlook before him. It was 
 not merely that his own fortunes were largely at 
 stake, but it was the dreadful position in which 
 he would stand before this immense concourse of 
 people, many of whom had put their money upon 
 his judgment, if he should find himself at the last 
 moment with an impotent excuse instead of a 
 champion to put before them. What a situation 
 for a man who prided himself upon his aplomb 
 and upon bringing all that he undertook to the 
 very highest standard of success ! I, who knew 
 him well, could tell from his wan cheeks and rest- 
 less fingers that he was at his wit's end what to 
 do, but no stranger who observed his jaunty 
 bearing, the flicking of his laced handkerchief, the 
 handling of his quizzing glass, or the shooting of 
 his ruffles, would ever have thought that this 
 butterfly creature could have had a care upon 
 earth. 
 
 It was close upon nine o'clock when we were 
 ready to start for the Downs, and by that time 
 my uncle's curricle was almost the only vehicle 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 295 
 
 left in the village street. The night before they 
 had lain with their wheels interlocking and their 
 shafts under each other's bodies, as thick as they 
 could fit, from the old church to the Crawley 
 Elm, spanning the road five deep for a good half 
 mile in length. Now the gray village street lay 
 before us, almost deserted, save by a few women 
 and children. Men, horses, carriages, all were 
 gone. My uncle drew on his driving gloves and 
 arranged his costume with punctilious neatness, 
 but I observed that he glanced up and down the 
 road with a haggard and yet expectant eye before 
 he took his seat. I sat behind with Belcher, while 
 the Honourable Berkeley Craven took the place 
 beside him. 
 
 The road from Crawley curves gently upward 
 to the upland heather-clad plateau which extends 
 for many miles in every direction. Strings of 
 pedestrians, most of them so weary and dust- 
 covered that it was evident that they had walked 
 the thirty miles from London during the night, 
 were plodding along by the sides of the road or 
 trailing over the long mottled slopes of the moor- 
 land. A horseman, fantastically dressed in green 
 and splendidly mounted, was waiting at the cross- 
 roads, and as he spurred toward us I recognised 
 the dark, handsome face and bold black eyes of 
 Mendoza. 
 
296 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " I am waiting here' to give the office, Sir 
 Charles," said he. " It's down the Grinstead 
 road, half a mile to the left." 
 
 " Very good," said my uncle, reining his mares 
 round into the crossroad. 
 
 " You haven't got your man there," remarked 
 Mendoza, with something of suspicion in his 
 manner. 
 
 " What the devil is that to you ? " cried 
 Belcher furiously. 
 
 " It's a good deal to all of us, for there are 
 some funny rumours about ! " 
 
 " You keep them to yourself, then, or you 
 may wish you had never heard them ! " 
 
 " All right, Jem ! Your breakfast don't seem 
 to have agreed with you this morning." 
 
 " Have the others arrived ? " asked my uncle 
 carelessly. 
 
 " Not yet. Sir Charles. But Tom Oliver is 
 there with the ropes and stakes. Jackson drove 
 by just now, and most of the ring-keepers are 
 up." 
 
 " We have still an hour," remarked my uncle, 
 as he drove on. " It is possible that the others 
 may be late, since they have to come from Rei- 
 gate." 
 
 " You take it like a man, Tregellis," said 
 Craven. 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 297 
 
 " We must keep a bold face and brazen it out 
 until the last moment." 
 
 " Of course, sir," cried Belcher, " I'll never 
 believe the betting would rise like that if some- 
 body didn't know something. We'll hold on by 
 our teeth and nails, sir, and see what comes of it." 
 
 We could hear a sound like the waves upon 
 the beach long before we came in sight of that 
 mighty multitude, and then at last on a sudden 
 dip of the road we saw it lying before us, a whirl- 
 pool of humanity with an open vortex in the cen- 
 tre. All round the thousands of carriages and 
 horses were dotted over the moor, and the slopes 
 were gay with tents and booths. A spot had 
 been chosen for the ring where a great basin had 
 been hollowed out in the grounds, so that a,ll 
 round that natural amphitheatre a crowd of thirty 
 thousand people could see very well what was 
 going on in the centre. As we drove up a buzz 
 of greeting came from the people upon the fringe, 
 which was nearest to us, spreading and spread- 
 ing, until the whole multitude had joined in the 
 acclamation. Then an instant later a second 
 shout broke forth, beginning from the other side 
 of the arena, and the faces which had been turned 
 toward us whisked around so that in a twinkling 
 the whole foreground changed from white to 
 dark. ■ 
 
298 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " It's they. They are in time," said my uncle 
 and Craven together. 
 
 Standing up on our curricle we could see the 
 cavalcade approaching over the Downs. In front 
 came a huge yellow barouche, in which sat Sir 
 Lothian Hume, Crab Wilson, and Captain Bar- 
 clay, his trainer. The postillions were flying ca- 
 nary-yellow ribbons from their caps, those being 
 the colours under which Wilson was to fight. 
 Behind the carriage there rode a hundred or 
 more noblemen and gentlemen of the west coun- 
 try, and then a line of gigs, tilburies, and car- 
 riages wound away down the Grinstead road 
 as far as our eyes could follow it. The big 
 barouche came lumbering over the sward in 
 our direction, until Sir Lothian Hume caught 
 sight of us, when he shouted to his postillions 
 to pull up. 
 
 " Good morning, Sir Charles," said he, spring- 
 ing out of the carriage. " I thought I knew your 
 scarlet curricle. We have an excellent morning 
 for the battle." 
 
 My uncle bowed coldly and made no answer. 
 
 " I suppose that since we are all here we may 
 begin at once," said Sir Lothian, taking no notice 
 of the other's manner. 
 
 " We begin at ten o'clock ; not an instant be- 
 fore." 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 299 
 
 " Very good ; if you prefer it. By the way, 
 Sir Charles, where is your man ? " 
 
 " I would ask you that question, Sir Lothian," 
 answered my uncle. " Where is my man ? " 
 
 A look of astonishment passed over Sir Lothi- 
 an's features, which, if it were not real was most 
 admirably affected. 
 
 " What do you mean by asking me such a 
 question ? " 
 
 " Because I wish to know." 
 
 " But how can I tell, and what business is it of 
 
 mine .-' 
 
 " I have reason to believe that you have made 
 
 it your business." 
 
 " If you would kindly put the matter a little 
 more clearly there would be some possibility of 
 my understanding you." 
 
 They were both very white and cold, formal 
 and unimpassioned in their bearing, but ex- 
 changing glances which crossed like rapier 
 blades. I thought of Sir Lothian's murderous 
 repute as a duellist, and I trembled for my 
 uncle. 
 
 " Now, sir, if you imagine that you have a 
 grievance against me, you will oblige me vastly 
 by putting it into words." 
 
 " I will," said my uncle. " There has been a 
 conspiracy to maim or kidnap my man, and I 
 
300 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 have every reason to believe that you are privy 
 to it." 
 
 An ugly sneer came over Sir Lothian's satur- 
 nine face. 
 
 " I see," said he, " your man has not come 
 on quite as well as you had expected in 
 his training, and you are hard put to it to 
 invent an excuse. Still I should have thought' 
 you might have found a more probable one, 
 and one which would entail less serious conse- 
 quences." 
 
 "Sir," answered my uncle, in a sudden hot 
 blast of rage, " you are a liar, but how great a liar 
 nobody knows save yourself ! " 
 
 Sir Lothian's hollow cheeks grew white 
 with passion, and I saw for an instant in his 
 deep-set eyes such a glare as comes from the 
 frenzied hound, rearing and ramping at the 
 end of its chain. Then with an effort he be- 
 came the same cold, hard, self-contained man as 
 ever. 
 
 " It does not become our position to quarrel 
 like two yokels at a fair," said he ; " we shall go 
 further into the matter afterward." 
 
 " I promise you that we shall," answered my 
 uncle, grimly. 
 
 " Meanwhile, I hold you to the terms of your 
 wager. Unless you produce your nominee 
 
Sir Lotliian's hollow cheeks grew white with 
 
 passion. 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 301 
 
 Within five and twenty minutes I claim the 
 match." 
 
 " Eight and twenty minutes," said my uncle, 
 looking at his watch. " You may claim it then, 
 but not an instantbefore." 
 
 He was admirable at that moment, for his 
 manner was that of a man with all sorts of 
 hidden resources, so that I could hardly make 
 myself realize as I looked at him that our posi- 
 tion was really as desperate as I knew it to be. 
 In the meantime Berkeley Craven, who had been 
 exchanging a few words with Sir Lothian Hume, 
 came back to our side. 
 
 " I have been asked to. be sole referee in this 
 matter," said he. " Does that meet with your 
 wishes. Sir Charles ? " 
 
 "I should be vastly obliged to you, Craven, if 
 you will undertake the duties." 
 
 " And Jackson has been suggested as time- 
 keeper." 
 
 " I could not wish a better one." 
 
 " Very good. That is settled." 
 
 In the meantime the last of the carriages had 
 come up, and the horses had all been picketed 
 upon the moor. The stragglers who had dotted 
 the grass had closed in until the huge crowd was 
 one unit with a single mighty voice, which was 
 already beginning to bellow its impatience. 
 
,02 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Looking around, there was hardly a moving 
 object upon the whole vast expanse of green 
 and purple down. A belated gig was coming 
 at full gallop down the road which led from 
 the south, and a few pedestrians were still 
 trailing up from Crawley, but nowhere was 
 there a sign of the missing man. 
 
 " The betting keeps up for all that," said Bel- 
 cher. " I've just been to the ringside and it is 
 still even." 
 
 " There's a place for you at the outer ropes. 
 Sir Charles," said Craven. 
 
 " There is no sign of my man yet. I won't 
 come in until he arrives." 
 
 " It is my duty to tell you that only ten 
 minutes are left." 
 
 " I make it five," cried Sir Lothian Hume. 
 
 " That is a question which lies with the ref- 
 eree," said Craven, firmly. " My watch makes 
 it ten minutes and ten it must be." 
 
 " Here's Crab Wilson ! " cried Belcher, and 
 at the same moment a shout like a thunderclap 
 burst from the crowd. The west countryman 
 had emerged from his dressing tent, followed 
 by Dutch Sam and Tom Owen, who were act- 
 ing as his seconds. He was nude to the waist, 
 with a pair of white calico drawers, white silk 
 stockings, and running shoes. Round his mid- 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 
 
 303 
 
 die was a canary -yellow sash and dainty little 
 ribbons of the same colour fluttered from the 
 sides of his knees. He carried a high white 
 hat in his hand, and, running down the lane, 
 which had been kept open through the crowd, 
 to allow persons to reach the ring, he threw the 
 hat high into the air, so that it fell within the 
 staked inclosure. Then with a double spring 
 he cleared the outer and inner line of rope, 
 and stood with his arms folded in the centre. 
 
 I do not wonder that the people cheered. 
 Even Belcher could not help joining in the 
 general! shout of applause. He was certainly a 
 splendidly built young athlete, and one could 
 not have wished to look upon a finer sight as 
 his white skin, sleek and luminous as a pan- 
 ther's, gleamed in the light of the morning 
 sun, with a beautiful liquid, rippling of mus- 
 cles at every movement. His arms were long 
 and slingy, his shoulders loose and yet power- 
 ful, with the downward slant which is a surer 
 index of power than squareness can be. He 
 clasped his hands behind his head, threw them 
 aloft, and swung them backward, and at every 
 movement some fresh expanse of his white skin 
 became knotted and gnarled with muscle, while 
 a yell of admiration and delight from the crowd 
 greeted each fresh exhibition. Then, folding his 
 
204 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 arms once more, he stood like a beautiful statue , 
 waiting for his antagonist. 
 
 Sir Lothian Hume had been looking impatient- 
 ly at his watch, and now he shut it with a trium- 
 phant snap. 
 
 " Time's up ! " he cried. " The match is for- 
 feit." 
 
 " Time is not up," said Craven. 
 
 " I have still five minutes." My uncle looked 
 round with despairing eyes. 
 
 " Only three, Tregellis." 
 
 A deep, angry murmur was rising from the 
 crowd. " It's a cross ! It's a cross ! It's a 
 fake ! " was the cry. 
 
 " Two minutes, Tregellis ! " 
 
 " Where's your man. Sir Charles ? Where's 
 the man that we have backed ? " Flushed faces 
 began to crane over each other and angry eyes 
 glared up at us. 
 
 " One more minute, Tregellis ! I am very 
 sorry, but it will be my duty to declare it 
 forfeit against you." 
 
 There was a sudden swirl in the crowd, a 
 rush, a shout, and high up in the air there 
 spun an old black hat, floating over the heads 
 of the ringsiders and flickering down within 
 the ropes. 
 
 " Saved, by the Lord ! " screamed Belcher. 
 
CRAWLEY DOWNS. 305 
 
 " I rather fancy," said my uncle calmly, " that 
 this must be my man." 
 
 " Too late ! " cried Sir Lothian. 
 
 " No," answered the referee. " It is still 
 twenty seconds to the hour. The fight will now 
 proceed." 
 
CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 THE RINGSIDE. 
 
 Out of the whole of that vast multitude I was 
 one of the very few who had observed whence it 
 was that this black hat, skimming so opportunely 
 over the ropes, had come. I have already re- 
 marked that when we looked around us there 
 had been a single gig travelling very rapidly 
 upon the southern road. My uncle's eyes had 
 rested upon it, but his attention had been 
 drawn away by the discussion between Sir 
 Lothian Hume and the referee upon the ques- 
 tion of time. For my own part, I had been 
 so struck by the furious manner in which these 
 belated travellers were approaching that I had 
 continued to watch them with all sorts of 
 vague hopes within me, which I did not dare 
 to put into words for fear of adding to my 
 uncle's disappointments. I had just made out 
 that the gig contained a man and a woman, 
 
 when suddenly I saw it swerve off the road 
 
 305 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 
 
 307 
 
 and come with a galloping horse and bounding 
 wheels right across the moor, crashing through 
 the gorse bushes and sinking down to the hubs 
 in the heather and bracken. As the driver 
 pulled up his foam-spattered horse he threw 
 the reins to his companion, sprang from his 
 seat, butted furiously at the crowd, and then 
 an instant afterward up went the hat which 
 told of his challenge and defiance. 
 
 " There is no hurry now, I presume. Craven," 
 said my uncle as coolly as if this sudden effect 
 had been carefully devised by him. 
 
 " Now that your man has his hat in the ring, 
 you can take as much time as you like. Sir 
 Charles." 
 
 " Your friend has certainly cut it rather fine, 
 nephew." 
 
 " It is not Jim, sir," I whispered ; " it is some 
 one else." 
 
 My uncle's eyebrows betrayed his astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Some one else ! " he ejaculated. 
 
 " And a good man, too ! " roared Belcher, 
 slapping his thigh with a crack like a pistol- 
 shot. " Why, blow my dickey, if it ain't old 
 Jack Harrison himself!" 
 
 Looking down at the crowd, we had seen the 
 head and shoulders of a powerful and strenuous 
 
3oS 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 man moving slowly forward, and leaving behind 
 him a long V-shaped ripple upon its surface like 
 the wake of a swimming dog. Now, as he pushed 
 his way through the looser fringes, the head was 
 raised, and there was the grinning, hardy face of 
 the smith looking up at us. He had left his hat 
 in the ring, and he was enveloped in an overcoat 
 with a blue bird's-eye handkerchief tied around 
 his neck. As he emerged from the throng he 
 let his greatcoat fly loose, and showed that he 
 was dressed in his full fighting kit — black 
 drawers, chocolate stockings, and white shoes. 
 
 " I'm right sorry to be so late. Sir Charles," 
 he cried. " I'd have been sooner, but it took 
 me a little time to make it all right with the 
 missus. I couldn't convince her all at once, 
 an' so I brought her with me, and we argued 
 it out on the way." Looking at the gig, I saw 
 now that it was indeed Mrs. Harrison who 
 was seated in it. 
 
 Sir Charles beckoned him up to the wheel of 
 the curricle. 
 
 " What in the world brings you here, Harri- 
 son ? " he whispered. " I am as glad to see you 
 as ever I was to see a man in my life, but I con- 
 fess I did not expect you." 
 
 " Well, sir, you heard I was coming," said the 
 smith. '' 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 
 
 309 
 
 " Indeed, I did not." 
 
 " Didn't you get a message, Sir Charles, from 
 a man named Gumming, landlord of the Friar's 
 Oak Inn? Master Rodney there would know 
 him." 
 
 " We saw him dead drunk at the George." 
 
 " There, now, if I wasn't afraid of it ! " cried 
 Harrison, angrily. " He's always like that when 
 he's excited, and I never saw a man more off his 
 head than he was when he heard I was goin' to 
 take this job over. He brought a bag of sover- 
 eigns up with him to back me with." 
 
 " That's how the betting got turned," said my 
 uncle. " He found others to follow his lead, it 
 appears." 
 
 " I was so afraid that he might get upon the 
 drink that I made him promise to go straight to 
 you, sir, the very instant he should arrive. He 
 had a note to deliver." 
 
 " I understand that he reached the George at 
 six, while I did not return from Reigate until 
 after seven, by which time I have no doubt that 
 he had drunk his message to me out of his 
 head. But where is your nephew, Jim, and 
 how did you come to know that you would be 
 needed ? " 
 
 " It is not his fault, I promise you, that you 
 should be left in the lurch. As to me, I had my 
 
2IO RODNEY STONE. 
 
 orders to take his place from the only man on 
 earth whose word I have never disobeyed." 
 
 " Yes, Sir Charles," said Mrs. Harrison, who 
 had left the gig and approached us, " you can 
 make the most of it this time, for never again 
 shall you have my Jack — not if you were to go 
 on your knees for him ! " 
 
 " She's not a patron of sport, and that's a 
 fact," said the smith. 
 
 " Sport ! " she cried, with shrill contempt and 
 anger. " Tell me when all is over." She hur- 
 ried away, and I saw her afterward seated among 
 the bracken, her back turned toward the multi- 
 tude and her hands over her ears, cowering and 
 wincing in an agony of apprehension. 
 
 While this hurried scene had been taking place 
 the crowd had become more and more tumultu- 
 ous, partly from their impatience at the delay and 
 partly from their exuberant spirits at the unex- 
 pected chance of seeing so celebrated a fighting 
 man as Harrison. His identity had already been 
 noised abroad, and many an elderly connoisseur 
 plucked his long net purse out of his fob, in 
 order to put a few guineas upon the man who 
 would represent the school of the past against 
 the present. The younger men were still in 
 favour of the west country man, and small odds 
 were to be had either way in proportion to the 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 311 
 
 number of the supporters of each in the different 
 parts of the crowd. 
 
 In the meantime Sir Lothian Hume had come 
 bustling up to the Honourable Berkeley Craven, 
 who was still standing near our curricle. 
 
 " I beg to lodge a formal protest against these 
 proceedings," said he. 
 
 " On what grounds, sir ? " 
 
 " Because the man produced is not the original 
 nominee of Sir Charles Tregellis." 
 
 " I never named one, as you are well aware," 
 said my uncle. 
 
 " The betting has all been upon the under- 
 standing that young Jim Harrison was my man's 
 opponent. Now at the last moment he is with- 
 drawn and another and more formidable man put 
 into his place." ' 
 
 " Sir Charles Tregellis is quite within his 
 rights," said Craven firmly. " He undertook to 
 produce a man who should be within the age 
 limits stipulated, and I understand that Harrison 
 fulfils all the conditions. — You are over five and 
 thirty, Harrison?" 
 
 " Forty-one next month, master." 
 
 " Very good. I direct that the fight pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 But alas ! there was one authority which was 
 higher even than that of the referee, and we were 
 
312 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 destined to an experience which was the prelude, 
 and sometimes the conclusion also, of many an 
 old-time fight. Across the moor there had ridden 
 a black-coated gentleman with buff-topped hunt- 
 ing boots and a couple of grooms behind him, 
 the little knot of horsemen showing up clearly 
 upon the curving swells and dipping down into 
 the alternate hollows. Some of the more observ- 
 ant of the crowd had glanced suspiciously at this 
 advancing figure, but the majority had not ob- 
 served him at all until he reined up his horse 
 upon a knoll which overlooked the amphitheatre, 
 and in a stentorian voice announced that he rep- 
 resented the custos rotulorum of his Majesty's 
 county of Surrey, that he proclaimed this assem- 
 bly to be gathered for an illegal purpose, and 
 that he was commissioned to disperse it by force 
 if necessary. 
 
 Never before had I understood that deep- 
 seated fear and wholesome respect which many 
 centuries of bludgeoning at the hands of the law 
 had beaten into the fierce and turbulent natives of 
 these islands. Here was a man with two attend- 
 ants upon one side, and on the other thirty 
 thousand very angry and disappointed people, 
 many of them fighters by profession, and some 
 from the roughest and most dangerous classes in 
 the country. And yet it was the single man who 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 313 
 
 appealed confidently to force, while the huge 
 multitude swayed and murmured like a mutinous 
 fierce-willed creature brought face to face with a 
 power against which it knew there was neither 
 argument nor resistance. My uncle, however, 
 with Berkeley Craven, Sir John Lade, and a 
 dozen other lords and gentlemen, hurried across 
 to the interrupter of the sport. 
 
 " I presume that you have a warrant, sir ? " 
 said Craven. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I have a warrant." 
 
 " Then I have a legal right to inspect it." 
 
 The magistrate handed him a blue paper, 
 which the little knot of gentlemen clustered their 
 heads over, for they were mostly magistrates 
 themselves, and were keenly alive to any possible 
 flaw in the wording. At last Craven shrugged 
 his shoulders and handed it back. 
 
 " This seems to be correct, sir," said he. 
 
 " It is entirely correct," answered the magis- 
 trate affably. — " To prevent waste of your valu- 
 able time, gentlemen, I may say once for all that 
 it is my unalterable determination that no fight 
 shall, under any circumstances, be brought off in 
 the county over which I have control, and I am 
 prepared to follow you all day in order to pre- 
 vent it." 
 
 To my inexperience this appeared to bring the 
 
314 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 whole matter to a conclusion, but I had under- 
 rated the foresight of those who arrange these 
 affairs, and also the advantages which made 
 Crawley Down so favourite a rendezvous. There 
 was a hurried consultation between the princi- 
 pals, the backers, the referee, and the time- 
 keeper. 
 
 " It's seven miles to Hampshire border and 
 about six to Sussex," said Jackson. The famous 
 master of the ring was clad in honour of the occa- 
 sion in a most resplendent scarlet coat, worked in 
 gold at the buttonholes, a white stock, a looped 
 hat with a broad black band, bufif knee breeches, 
 white silk stockings and paste buckles — a costume 
 which did justice to his magnificent figure and 
 especially to those famous " balustrade " calves 
 which had helped him to be the finest runner and 
 jumper as well as the most formidable pugilist 
 in England. His hard, high-boned face, large, 
 piercing eyes, and immense physique made him a 
 fitting leader for that rough and tumultuous body 
 who had named him as their commander-in- 
 chief. 
 
 " If I might venture to offer you a word of ad- 
 vice," said the affable official, " it would be to 
 make for the Hampshire line, for Sir James Ford 
 on the Sussex border has as great an objection to 
 such assemblies as I have, while Mr. Merridew, of 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 315 
 
 Long Hall, who is the Hampshire magistrate, has 
 fewer scruples upon the point." 
 
 " Sir," said my uncle, raising his hat in his 
 most impressive manner, " I am infinitely obliged 
 to you. With the referee's permission there is 
 nothing for it but to shift the stakes." 
 
 In an instant a scene of the wildest animation 
 had set in. Tom Owen and his assistant, Fogo, 
 with the help of the ringkeepers, plucked up the 
 stakes and ropes and carried them off across 
 country. Crab Wilson was enveloped in great- 
 coats and borne away in the barouche, while 
 Champion Harrison took Mr. Craven's place in 
 our curricle. Then off the huge crowd started, 
 horsemen, vehicles, and pedestrians, rolling slow- 
 ly over the broad face of the moorland. The 
 carriages rocked and pitched like boats in a sea- 
 way as they lumbered along, fifty abreast, scram- 
 bling and lurching over everything which came 
 in their way. Sometimes with a snap and a thud 
 one axle would come to the ground, while a 
 wheel reeled off amid the tussocks of heather, 
 and roars of delight greeted the owners as they 
 looked ruefully at the ruin. Then as the gorse- 
 clumps grew thinner and the sward more level, 
 those on foot began to run, the riders struck in 
 their spurs, the drivers cracked their whips, and 
 away they all streamed in the maddest, wildest 
 
3i6 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 cross-country steeple chase, the yellow barouche 
 and thQ crimson curricle, which held the two 
 champions, leading the van. 
 
 " What do you think of your chances, Harri- 
 son ? " I heard my uncle ask, as the two mares 
 picked their way over the broken ground. 
 
 " It's my last fight, Sir Charles," said the 
 smith. " You heard the missus say that if she 
 let me off this time I was never to ask again. I 
 must try and make it a good one." 
 
 " But your training? " 
 
 " I'm always in training, sir ! I work hard 
 from morning to night, and I drink little else 
 than water. I don't think that Captain Barclay 
 can do much better with all his rules." 
 
 " He's rather long in the reach for you." 
 
 " I've fought and beaten them that were 
 longer. If it comes to a rally I should hold ihy 
 own, and I should have the better of him at a 
 throw." 
 
 " It's a match of youth against experience. 
 Well, I would not hedge a guinea of my money. 
 But unless he was acting under force I can not 
 forgive young Jim for having deserted me." 
 
 " He was acting under force. Sir Charles." 
 
 " You have seen him, then ? " 
 
 " No, master, I have not seen him." 
 
 " You know where he is ? " 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 
 
 317 
 
 " Well, it is not for me to say one way or the 
 other. I can only tell you that he could not help 
 himself. But here's the beak a-comin' for us 
 again." 
 
 The ominous figure galloped up once more 
 alongside of our curricle, but this time his mis- 
 sion was a more amiable one. 
 
 " My jurisdiction ends at that ditch, sir," said 
 he. " I should fancy that you could hardly wish 
 a better place for a mill than the sloping field be- 
 yond. I am quite sure that no one will interfere 
 with you there." 
 
 His anxiety that the fight should be brought 
 off was in such contrast to the zeal with which he 
 had chased us from his county that my uncle 
 could not help remarking upon it. 
 
 " It is not for a magistrate to wink at the 
 breaking of the law, sir," he answered, " but if 
 my colleague of Hampshire has no scruples 
 about its being brought off within his jurisdiction 
 I should very much like to see the fight," with 
 which he spurred his horse up an adjacent knoll, 
 from which he thought that he might gain the 
 best view of the proceedings. 
 
 And now I had a view of all those points of 
 etiquette and curious survivals of custom which 
 are so recent that we have not yet appreciated 
 that they may some day be as interesting to the 
 
3i8 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 social historian as they then were to the sports- 
 man. A dignity was given to the contest by a 
 rigid code of ceremony, just as the clash of mail- 
 clad knights was prefaced and adorned by the 
 calling of the heralds and the showing of blazoned 
 shields. To many in those ancient days the tour- 
 ney may have seemed a bloody and brutal ordeal, 
 but we who look at it with ample perspective see 
 that it was a rude but gallant preparation for the 
 conditions of life in an iron age. And so also 
 when the ring has become as extinct as the lists 
 we may understand that a broader philosophy 
 would show that all things which spring up so 
 naturally and spontaneously have a function to 
 fulfil, and that it is a less evil that two men 
 should, of their own free will, fight until they can 
 fight no more, than that the standard of hardi- 
 hood and endurance should run the slightest risk 
 of being lowered in a nation which depends so 
 largely upon the individual qualities of her citi- 
 zens for her defence. Do away with war, if the 
 cursed thing can, by any wit of man, be avoided, 
 but until you see your way to that, have a care 
 in meddling with those primitive qualities to 
 which at any moment you may have to appeal 
 for your own protection. 
 
 Tom Owen and his singular assistant, Fogo, 
 who combined the functions of prize-fighter and 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 
 
 319 
 
 of poet, though, fortunately for himself, he could 
 use his fists better than his pen, soon had the 
 ring arranged according to the rules then in 
 vogue. The white wooden posts, each with the 
 P. C. of the Pugilistic Club printed on it, were 
 so fixed as to leave a square of twenty-four feet 
 within the roped inclosure. Outside this ring an 
 outer one was pitched, eight feet separating the 
 two. The inner was for the combatants and for 
 their seconds, while in the outer there were 
 places for the referee, the timekeeper, the back- 
 ers, and a few select and fortunate individuals, 
 of whom, through being in my uncle's company, 
 I was one. Some twenty well-known prize-fight- 
 ers, including my friend Bill Warr, Black Rich- 
 mond, Maddox, the Pride of Westminster, Tom 
 Belcher, Paddington Jones, Tough Tom Blake, 
 Symonds the Ruffian, Tyne the Tailor, and others 
 were stationed in the outer ring as beaters-out. 
 
 These fellows all wore the high white hats, 
 which were at that time much affected by the 
 fancy, and they were armed with horsewhips, sil- 
 ver mounted, and each bearing the P. C. mono- 
 gram. Did any one, be it East End rough or 
 West End patrician, intrude within the outer 
 ropes, this corps of guardians neither argued nor 
 expostulated, but they fell upon the offender and 
 laced him with their whips until he escaped back 
 
320 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 out of the forbidden ground. Even with so for- 
 midable a guard and such fierce measures the 
 beaters-out who had to check the forward heaves 
 of a maddened straining crowd were often as 
 exhausted at the end of a fight as the principals 
 themselves. In the meantime they formed up in 
 a line of sentinels, presenting under their row of 
 white hats every type of fighting face, from the 
 fresh boyish countenances of Tom Belcher, 
 Jones, and the other younger recruits, to the 
 scarred and mutilated visages of the veteran 
 bruisers. 
 
 While the business of the fixing of the stakes 
 and the fastening of the ropes was going forward, 
 I from my place of vantage could hear the talk of 
 the crowd behind me, the front two rows of 
 which were lying upon the grass, the next two 
 kneeling, and the others standing in serried ranks 
 all up the side of the gently sloping hill, so that 
 each line could just see over the shoulders of 
 that which was in front. There were several, and 
 those among the most experienced, who took the 
 gloomiest view of Harrison's chances, and it made 
 my heart heavy to overhear them. 
 
 " It's the old story over again," said one. 
 " They won't bear in mind that youth will be 
 served. They only learn wisdom when it's 
 knocked into them." 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 321 
 
 " Ay, ay," responded another. " That's how- 
 Jack Slack thrashed Boughton, and I myself 
 saw Hooper, the tinman, beat to pieces by the 
 fighting oilman. They all come to it in time, 
 and now it's Harrison's turn." 
 
 " Don't you be so sure about that," cried a 
 third. " I've seen Jack Harrison fight five 
 times, and I never yet saw him have the 
 worst of it. He's a slaughterer, and so I tell you." 
 
 " He was, you mean." 
 
 " Well, I don't see no such difference as all 
 that comes to, and I'm putting ten guineas on 
 my opinion." 
 
 " Why," said a loud, consequential man from 
 immediately behind me, speaking with a broad 
 western burr, " vrom what I've zeen of this 
 young Gloucester lad I doan't think Harrison 
 could have stood bevore him for ten rounds 
 when he was in his prime. I vas coming up 
 in the Bristol coach yesterday, and the guard 
 he told me that he had vifteen thousand pound 
 in hard gold in the boot that had been zent 
 up to back our man." 
 
 " They'll be in luck if they see their money 
 again," said another. " Harrison's no lady's maid 
 fighter, and he's blood to the bone. ^ He'd have 
 a shy at it if his man was as big as Carlton 
 House." 
 
322 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Tut ! " answered the west country man. 
 " It's only in Bristol and Gloucester that you 
 can get men to beat Bristol and Gloucester." 
 
 " It's like your damned himpudence to say 
 so ! " said an angry voice from the throng be- 
 hind him. " There are six men in London that 
 would hengage to walk round the best twelve 
 that hever came from the west ! " 
 
 The proceedings might have opened by an 
 impromptu by-battle between the indignant cock- 
 ney and the gentleman from Bristol, but a pro- 
 longed roar of applause broke in upon their 
 altercation. It was caused by the appearance 
 in the ring of Crab Wilson, followed by Dutch 
 Sam and Mendoza, carrying the basin, sponge, 
 brandy bladder, and other badges of their office. 
 
 As he entered, Wilson pulled the canary-yel- 
 low handkerchief from his waist, and going to 
 the corner post he tied it to the top of it, where 
 it remained fluttering in the breeze. He then 
 took a bundle of smaller ribbons of the same 
 colour from his seconds, and walking round he 
 offered them to the noblemen and Corinthians at 
 half a guinea a piece as souvenirs of the fight. 
 His brisk trade was only brought to an end by 
 the appearance of Harrison, who climbed in a 
 very leisurely manner over the ropes as befitted 
 his more mature years and less elastic joints. 
 
THE RINGSIDE. 
 
 323 
 
 The yell which greeted him was even more 
 enthusiastic than that which had heralded Wil- 
 son, and there was a louder ring of admiration 
 in it, for the crowd had already had their oppor- 
 tunity of seeing Wilson's physique, while Harri- 
 son's was a surprise to them. 
 
 I had often looked upon the mighty arms and 
 neck of the smith, but I had never before seen 
 him stripped to the waist, or understood the 
 marvellous symmetry of development which had 
 made him in his youth the favourite model of 
 the London sculptors. There was none of that 
 white, sleek skin and shimmering play of sinew 
 which made Wilson a beautiful picture, but in 
 its stead there was a rugged grandeur of knot- 
 ted and tangled muscle, as though the roots of 
 some old tree were writhing from breast to 
 shoulder and from shoulder to elbow. Even in 
 repose the sun threw shadows upon the curves 
 of his skin, but when he exerted himself every 
 muscle bunched itself up, distinct and hard, 
 breaking his whole trunk into gnarled knots 
 of sinew. His skin, on face and body, was 
 darker and harsher than that of his youthful 
 antagonist, but he looked tougher and harder, 
 an effect which was increased by the sombre 
 colour of his stockings and breeches. He en- 
 tered the ring, sucking a lemon, with Jem Bel- 
 
324 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 cher and Caleb Baldwin the coster at his heels. 
 Strolling across to the post, he tied his blue 
 bird's-eye handkerchief over the west country 
 yellowman, and then walked to his opponent 
 with his hand out. 
 
 " I hope I see you well, Wilson," said he. 
 
 " Pre-tty tidy, I thank you," answered the 
 other. " We'll speak to each other in a dif- 
 ferent fashion, I 'spects, afore we part." 
 
 " But no ill-feeling," said the smith, and the 
 two fighting men grinned at each other as they 
 took their own corners. 
 
 " May I ask, Mr. Referee, whether these two 
 men have been weighed ? " asked Sir Lothian 
 Hume, standing up in the outer ring. 
 
 " Their weight has just been taken under my 
 supervision, sir," answered Mr. Craven. " Your 
 man brought the scales down at thirteen three 
 and Harrison at thirteen eight." 
 
 " He's a fifteen-stoner from the loins upward," 
 cried Dutch Sam from his corner. " We'll get 
 some of it off hini before we finish." 
 
 " You'll get more off him than ever you bar- 
 gained for," answered Jem Belcher, and the crowd 
 laughed at the rough chaff. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE smith's last BATTLE. 
 
 " Clear the outer ring ! " cried Jackson, 
 standing up beside the ropes with a big silver 
 watch in his hand. 
 
 " Ss — whack ! ss — whack ! ss — whack ! " went 
 the horsewhips, for a number of the spectators, 
 either driven onward by the pressure behind or 
 willing to risk some physical pain on the chance 
 of getting a better view, had crept under the 
 ropes and formed a ragged fringe within the 
 outer ring. Now amid roars of laughter from 
 the crowd and a shower of blows from the beat- 
 ers-out they dived madly back with the ungainly 
 haste of frightened sheep blundering through a 
 gap in their hurdles. Their case was a hard one, 
 for the folk in front refused to yield an inch of 
 their places, but the arguments from the rear pre- 
 vailed over everything else, and presently every 
 frantic fugitive had been absorbed, while the 
 
 beaters-out took their stands along the edge at 
 
 325 
 
326 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 regular intervals with their whips held down by 
 their thighs. 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried Jackson again, " I am re- 
 quested to inform you that Sir Charles Tregellis's 
 nominee is Jack Harrison, fighting at thirteen 
 eight, and Sir Lothian Hume's is Crab Wilson, 
 at thirteen three. No person can be allowed at 
 the inner ropes save the referee and the time- 
 keeper. I have only to beg that if the occasion 
 should require it you will all give your assistance 
 to keep the ground clear, to prevent confusion 
 and to have a fair fight. All ready ? " 
 
 " All ready," from both corners. 
 
 " Time ! " 
 
 There was a breathless hush as Harrison, Wil- 
 son, Belcher, and Dutch Sam walked briskly into 
 the centre of the ring. The two men shook 
 hands, while their seconds did the same, the four 
 hands crossing each other. Then the seconds 
 dropped back, and the two champions stood toe 
 to toe, with their hands up. 
 
 It was a magnificent sight to any one who had 
 not lost his sense of appreciation of the noblest of 
 all the works of Nature. Both men fulfilled that 
 requisite of the powerful athlete that they should 
 look larger without their clothes than with 
 them. In ring slang, they buffed well. And each 
 showed up the other's points on account of the 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 327 
 
 extreme contrast between them, the long, loose- 
 limbed, deer-footed youngster, and the square-set 
 rugged veteran, with his trunk like the stump of 
 an oak. The betting began to rise upon the 
 younger man from the instant that they were put 
 face to face, for his advantages were obvious, 
 while those qualities which had brought Harri- 
 son to the top in his youth were only a memory 
 in the minds of the older men. All could see the 
 three inches extra of height and two of reach 
 which Wilson possessed, and a glance at the 
 quick, catlike motions of his feet, and the perfect 
 poise of his body upon his legs, showed how 
 swiftly he could spring either in or out from his 
 slower adversary. But it took a subtler insight 
 to read the grim smile which flickered over the 
 smith's mouth, or the smouldering fire which 
 shone in his gray eyes, and it was only the old- 
 timers who knew that with his mighty heart and 
 his iron frame he was a perilous man to lay odds 
 against. 
 
 Wilson stood in the position from which he 
 had derived his nickname, his left hand and left 
 foot well to the front, his body sloped very far 
 back from his loins, and his guaird thrown across 
 his chest, but held well forward, in a way which 
 made him, exceedingly hard to get at. The 
 smith, on the other hand, assumed the obsolete 
 
328 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 attitude which Humphries and Mendoza intro- 
 duced, but which had not for ten years been seen 
 in a first-class battle. Both his knees were slightly 
 bent, he stood square to his opponent, and his 
 two big brown fists were held over his mark, so 
 that he could lead equally with either. Wilson's 
 hands, which moved incessantly in and out, had 
 been stained with some astringent juice, with the 
 purpose of preventing them from puffing, and so 
 great was the contrast between them and his 
 white forearms that I imagined that he was 
 wearing dark, close-fitting gloves, until my un- 
 cle explained the matter in a whisper. So they 
 stood in a quiver of eagerness and expectation, 
 while that huge multitude hung so silently 
 and breathlessly upon every motion that they 
 might have believed themselves to be alone, 
 man to man, in the centre of some primeval soli- 
 tude. 
 
 It was evident from the beginning that Crab 
 Wilson meant to throw no chance away, and that 
 he would trust to his lightness of foot and quick- 
 ness of foot until he should see something of the 
 tactics of his rough-looking antagonist. He 
 paced swiftly round several times, with little 
 elastic, menacing steps, while the smith pivoted 
 slowly to correspond. Then as Wilson took a 
 backward step to induce Harrison to break 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 329 
 
 ground and follow him, the older man grinned 
 and shook his head. 
 
 "You must come to me, lad," said he. " I'm 
 too old to scamper round the ring after you. But 
 we have the day before us and I'll wait." 
 
 He may not have expected his invitation to be 
 so promptly answered, but in an instant, with a 
 panther spring, the west countryman was on him. 
 Smack ! smack ! smack ! Thud ! thud ! The first 
 three were on Harrison's face, the last two were 
 heavy counters upon Wilson's body. Back 
 danced the youngster, disengaging himself in 
 beautiful style, but with two angry red blotches 
 over the lower line of his ribs. " Blood for Wil- 
 son ! " yelled the crowd, and as the smith faced 
 round to follow the movements of his nimble ad- 
 versary, I saw with a thrill that his chin was crim- 
 son and dripping. In came Wilson again with a 
 feint at the mark and a flush hit on Harrison's 
 cheek ; then, breaking the force of the smith's pon- 
 derous right counter, he brought the round to a 
 conclusion by slipping down upon the grass. 
 
 " First knock-down for Harrison ! " roared a 
 thousand voices, for as many pounds would 
 change hands upon the point. 
 
 " I appeal to the referee ! " cried Sir Lothian 
 Hume. " It was a slip and not a knock-down." 
 
 " I give it a slip," said Berkeley Craven, and 
 
330 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 the men walked to their corners amid a general 
 shout of applause for a spirited and well-contested 
 opening round. Harrison fumbled in his mouth 
 with his finger and thumb, and then with a sharp 
 turn he wrenched out a tooth which he threw into 
 the basin. " Quit>e like old times," said he to 
 Belcher. 
 
 " Have a care. Jack ! " whispered the anxious 
 second. " You got rather more than you gave." 
 
 " Maybe I can carry more, too," said he se- 
 renely, while Caleb Baldwin mopped the big 
 sponge over his face, and the shining bottom of 
 the tin basin ceased suddenly to glimmer through 
 the water. 
 
 I could gather from the comments of the ex- 
 perienced Corinthians around me, and from the 
 remarks of the crowd behind, that Harrison's 
 chance was thought to have been lessened by this 
 round. 
 
 " I've seen his old faults and I haven't seen his 
 old merits," said Sir John Lade, our opponent of 
 the Brighton road. " He's as slow on his feet and 
 with his guard . as ever. Wilson hit him as he 
 liked." 
 
 " Wilson may hit him three times to his once, 
 but his one is worth Wilson's three," remarked 
 my uncle. " He's a natural fighter, and the other 
 an excellent sparrer, but I don't hedge a guinea." 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 
 
 331 
 
 A sudden hush announced that the men were 
 on their feet again, and so skilfully had the sec- 
 onds done their work that neither looked a jot the 
 worse for what had passed. Wilson led viciously 
 with his left, but misjudged his distance, receiv- 
 ing a smashing counter on the mark in reply, 
 which sent him reeling and gasping to the ropes. 
 " Hurrah for the old one ! " yelled the mob, and 
 my uncle laughed and nudged Sir John Lade. 
 The west countryman smiled and shook himself 
 like a dog from the water, as with a stealthy step 
 he came back to the centre of the ring, where his 
 man was still standing. Bang came Harrison's 
 right upon the mark once more, but Crab broke 
 the blow with his elbow, and jumped laughing 
 away. Both men were a little winded and their 
 quick, high breathing, with the light patter of 
 their feet as they danced round each other, 
 blended into one continuous, long-drawn sound. 
 Two simultaneous exchanges with the left made 
 a clap like a pistol-shot, and then as Harrison 
 rushed in for a fall, Wilson slipped him and 
 over went my old friend upon his face, partly 
 from the impetus of his own futile attack and 
 partly from a swinging half-arm blow which the 
 west countryman brought home upon his ear as 
 he passed. 
 
 "Knock-down for Wilson!" cried the referee, 
 
332 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 and the answering roar was like the broadside 
 of a seventy-four. Up went hundreds of curly- 
 brimmed Corinthian hats into the air, and the 
 slope before us was a bank' of flushed and yelling 
 faces. My heart was cramped with my fears, and 
 I winced at every blow, yet I was conscious also 
 of an absolute fascination, with a wild thrill of 
 fierce joy and a certain exultation in our common 
 human nature which could rise above pain and 
 fear in its straining after the very humblest form 
 of fame. 
 
 Belcher and Baldwin had pounced upon their 
 man, and had him up and in his corner in an in- 
 stant, but, in spite- of the coolness with which 
 the hardy smith took his punishment there was 
 immense exultation among the west country- 
 men. 
 
 " We've got him ! He's beat ! He's beat ! " 
 shouted the two Jew seconds. " It's a hundred 
 to a tizzy on Gloucester ! " 
 
 " Beat, is he ? " answered Belcher. " You'll 
 need to rent this field before you can beat him, 
 for he'll stand a month of that kind of fiy- 
 flappin'." He was swinging a towel in front of 
 Harrison as he spoke, while Baldwin mopped 
 him with the sponge. 
 
 " How is it with you, Harrison ? " asked my 
 uncle. 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 333 
 
 " Hearty as a buck, sir. It's as right as the 
 day." 
 
 The cheery answer came with so merry a 
 ring that the clouds cleared from my uncle's 
 face. 
 
 " You should recommend your man to lead 
 more, Tregellis," said Sir John Lade. " He'll 
 never win it unless he leads." 
 
 " He knows more about the ganie than you 
 or I do, mon ami ! I'll let him take his own 
 way." 
 
 " The betting is three to one against him 
 now," said a gentleman, whose grizzled mus- 
 tache showed that he was an officer of the late 
 war. 
 
 " Very true. General Fitzpatrick. But you'll 
 observe that it is the raw young bloods who 
 are giving the odds, and the sheenies who are 
 taking them. I still stick to my opinion." 
 
 The two men came briskly up to the scratch 
 at the call of time, the smith a little lumpy on 
 one side of his head, but with the same good- 
 humoured and yet menacing smile upon his 
 lips. As to Wilson, he was exactly as he had 
 begun in appearance, but twice I saw him 
 close his lips sharply as if he were in a sud- 
 den spasm of pain, and the blotches over his 
 ribs were darkening from scarlet to a sullen 
 
334 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 mottled purple. He held his guard somewhat 
 lower, to screen this vulnerable point, and he 
 danced round his opponent with a lightness 
 that showed that his wind had not been im- 
 paired by the body blows, while the smith 
 still adopted the impassive tactics with which 
 he had commenced. 
 
 Many rumours had come up to us from 
 the west as to Crab Wilson's fine science and 
 the quickness of his hitting, but the truth sur- 
 passed what had been expected of him. In 
 this round and the two which followed he 
 showed a swiftness and accuracy which old 
 ringsiders declared that Mendoza in his prime 
 had never surpassed. He was in and out like 
 lightning, and his blows were heard and felt 
 rather than seen. But Harrison still took them 
 all with the same dogged smile, occasionally 
 getting in a hard body blow in return, for 
 his adversary's height and his position com- 
 bined to keep his face out of danger. At the 
 end of the fifth round the odds were four to 
 one, and the west countrymen were riotous in 
 their exultation. 
 
 " What think you now ? " cried the west 
 countryman behind me, and in his excitement 
 he could get no further save to repeat over 
 and over, " What think you now ? " When in 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 335 
 
 the sixth round the smith was peppered twice 
 without getting in a counter, and had the worst 
 of the fall as well, the fellow became inarticu- 
 late altogether and could only huzza wildly in 
 his delight. Sir Lothian Hume was smiling 
 and nodding his head, while my uncle was 
 coldly impassive, though I was as sure that 
 his heart was as heavy as mine. 
 
 " This won't do, Tregellis," said General 
 Fitzpatrick. " My money is on the old one, 
 but the other is the finer boxer." 
 
 " My man is un peu passe, but he will come 
 through all right," answered my uncle. 
 
 I saw that both Belcher and Baldwin were 
 looking grave, and I knew that we must have 
 a change of some sort, or the old tale of youth 
 and age would be told once more. 
 
 The seventh round, however, showed the re- 
 serve strength of the hardy old lighter and 
 lengthened the faces of those layers of odds 
 who had imagined that the fight was practi- 
 cally over and that a few finishing rounds 
 would have given the smith his coup de gr^ce. 
 It was clear when the two men faced each 
 other that Wilson had made himself up for 
 mischief, and meant to force the fighting and 
 maintain the lead which he had gained, but 
 that gay gleam was not quenched in the vet- 
 
336 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 eran's eyes, and still the same smile played 
 over his grim face. He had become more 
 jaunty, too, in the swing of his shoulders 
 and the poise of his head, and it brought my 
 confidence back to me to see the brisk way 
 in which he squared up to his man. 
 
 Wilson led with his left, but was short, and 
 he only just avoided a dangerous right-hander, 
 which whistled in at his ribs. " Bravo, old 'un ! 
 one of those will be a dose of. laudanum if you 
 get it home," cried Belcher. There was a pause 
 of shuffling feet and hard breathing, broken by 
 the thud of a tremendous body blow from Wil- 
 son, which the smith stopped with the utmost 
 coolness. Then again a few seconds of silent ten- 
 sion, when Wilson led viciously at the head, but 
 Harrison took it on his forearm, smiling and 
 nodding at his opponent. " Get the pepperbox 
 open ! " yelled Mendoza, and Wilson sprang in 
 to carry out his instructions, but was hit out 
 again by a heavy drive on the chest. " Now's 
 the time ! Follow it up ! " cried Belcher, and in 
 rushed the smith, pelting in his half-arm blows 
 and taking the returns without a wince until 
 Crab Wilson went down exhausted in the cor- 
 ner. Both men had their marks to show, but 
 Harrison had all the best of the rally, so it was 
 our turn to throw our hats into the air and to 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 337 
 
 shout ourselves hoarse, while the seconds clapped 
 their man upon his broad back as they hurried 
 him to his corner. 
 
 " What think you now ? " shouted all the 
 neighbours of the west countryman, repeating his 
 own refrain. 
 
 " Why, Dutch Sam never put in a better rally," 
 cried Sir John Lade. " What's the betting now, 
 Sir Lothian ? " 
 
 " I have laid all that I intend, but I don't 
 think my man can lose it." For all that, the smile 
 had faded from his face, and I observed that he 
 glanced continually over his shoulder into the 
 crowd behind him. 
 
 A sullen purple cloud had been drifting slowly 
 up from the southwest, though I dare say that 
 out of thirty thousand folk there were very few 
 who had spared the time or attention to mark it. 
 Now it suddenly made its presence apparent by 
 a few heavy drops of rain, thickening rapidly into 
 a sharp shower which filled the air with its hiss, 
 and rattled noisily upon the hard high hats of the 
 Corinthians. Coat collars were turned up and 
 handkerchiefs tied around necks, while the skins 
 of the two men glistened with the moisture as 
 they stood up to each other once more. I no- 
 ticed that Belcher whispered very earnestly into 
 Harrison's ear as he rose from his knee, and that 
 
328 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 the smith nodded his head curtly with the air 
 of a man who understands and approves his 
 orders. 
 
 And what those orders were was instantly 
 apparent. Harrison was to be turned from the 
 defender into the attacker. The result of the 
 rally in the last round had convinced his seconds 
 that when it came to give-and-take hitting their 
 hardy and powerful man was likely to have the 
 better of it. And then on the top of this came 
 the rain. With the slippery grass the superior 
 activity of Wilson would be neutralized, and he 
 would find it harder to avoid the rushes of his 
 opponent. It was in taking advantage of such 
 circumstances that the art of ringcraft lay, and 
 many a shrewd and vigilant' second had won a 
 losing battle for his man. " Go in, then ! Go 
 in ! " whooped the two prize-fighters, while every 
 backer in the crowd took up the roar. 
 
 And Harrison went in, in such fashion that 
 no man who saw him do it will ever forget it. 
 Crab Wilson, as game as a pebble, met him with 
 a flush hit every time, but no human strength or 
 human science seemed capable of stopping the 
 terrible onslaught of this iron man. Round after 
 round he scrambled his way in, Slap ! Bang ! right 
 and left, every hit tremendously sent home. 
 Sometimes he covered his own face with his left, 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 
 
 339 
 
 and sometimes he disdained to use any guard at 
 all, but his springing hits were irresistible. The 
 rain lashed down upon them, pouring from their 
 faces and running in crimson trickles over their 
 bodies, but neither gave any heed to it save to 
 manoeuvre always with the view of bringing it 
 into each other's e)'es. But round after round 
 the west countryman fell, and round after round 
 the 'betting rose until the odds were higher in our 
 favour than ever they had been against us. 
 With a sinking heart, filled with pity and ad- 
 miration for these two gallant men, I longed 
 that every bout might be the last, and yet the 
 "Time!" was hardly out of Jackson's mouth 
 before they had both sprung from their sec- 
 onds' knees with laughter upon their mutilated 
 faces and chaffing words upon their bleeding 
 lips. 
 
 It may have been a humble object lesson, but 
 I give you my word that many a time in my life 
 I have braced myself to a hard task by the 
 remembrance of that morning upon Crawley 
 Downs, asking myself if my manhood were so 
 weak that I could not do for ray country or for 
 those whom I loved as much as these two would 
 do for a paltry stake, and for their own credit 
 among their fellows. Such a spectacle may bru- 
 talize those who are brutal, but I say that there is 
 
340 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 a spiritual side to it also, and that the sight of the 
 utmost human limit of endurance and courage is 
 one which bears a lesson of its own. 
 
 But if the ring can breed bright virtues it is 
 but a partisan who can deny that it can be the 
 mother of black vices also, and we were destined 
 that morning to have a sight of each. It so 
 chanced that as the battle went against his man 
 my eyes stole, round very often to note the ex- 
 pression upon Sir Lothian Hume's face, for I 
 knew how fearlessly he had laid the odds, and I 
 understood that his fortunes as well as his cham- 
 pion were going down before the swashing blows 
 of the old bruiser. 
 
 The confident smile with which he had 
 watched the opening rounds had long vanished 
 from his lips, and his cheeks had turned of a sal- 
 low pallor, while his small beadlike gray eyes 
 looked furtively from under his craggy brows, 
 and more than once he burst into savage impre- 
 cations when Wilson was beaten to the ground. 
 But especially I noticed that his chin was always 
 coming round to his shoulder, and that at the 
 end of every round he sent keen little glances 
 flying backward into the crowd. For some 
 time amid the immense hillside of faces which 
 banked themselves up on the slope behind us I 
 was unable to pick out the exact point at which 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 
 
 341 
 
 his gaze was directed. But at last I succeeded 
 in following it. 
 
 A very tall man, who showed a pair of broad 
 bottle-green shoulders high above his neighbours, 
 was looking very hard in our direction, and I 
 assured myself that a quick exchange of almost 
 imperceptible signals was going on between him 
 and the Corinthian baronet. I became conscious 
 also as I watched this stranger that the cluster of 
 men around him were the roughest elements of 
 the whole assembly — fierce, vicious-looking fel- 
 lows, with cruel, debauched faces, who howled 
 like a pack of wolves at every blow, and yelled 
 execrations at Harrison whenever he walked 
 across to his corner. So turbulent were they 
 that I saw the ringkeepers whisper together and 
 glance up in their direction, as if preparing -for 
 trouble in store, but none of them had realized 
 how near it was to breaking out, or how danger- 
 ous it might prove. 
 
 Thirty rounds had been fought in an hour and 
 twenty-five minutes, and the rain was pelting 
 down harder than ever. A thick steam rose from 
 the two fighters, and the ring was a pool of mud. 
 Repeated falls had turned the men brown, with a 
 horrible mottling of crimson blotches. Round 
 after round had ended by Crab Wilson going 
 down, and it was evident even to my inexperi- 
 
343 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 enced eye that he was weakening rapidly. He 
 leaned heavily upon the two Jews when they led 
 him to his corner, and he reeled when their sup- 
 port was withdrawn. Yet his science had 
 through long practice become an automatic thing 
 with him, so that he stopped and hit with less 
 power but with as great accuracy as ever. Even 
 now a casual observer might have thought that 
 he had the best of the battle, for the smith was 
 far the more horribly marked, but there was a 
 wild stare in the west countryman's eyes and a 
 strange catch in his breathing which told us that 
 it is not the most dangerous blow which shows 
 upon the surface. A heavy cross-buttock at the 
 end of the thirty-first round shook the breath 
 from his body, and he came up for the thirt}'-sec- 
 ond with the same jaunty gallantry as ever, but 
 with the dazed expression of a man whose wind 
 has been utterly smashed. 
 
 " He's got the roly-polies ! " cried Belcher. 
 " You have it your own way now ! " 
 
 "I'll vight for a week yet ! " gasped Wilson. 
 
 " Damme ! I like his style," cried Sir John 
 Lade. " No shifting, nothing shy, no hugging 
 nor hauling. It's a shame to let him fight. Take 
 the brave fellow away ! " 
 
 " Take him away ! Take him away ! " echoed 
 a hundred voices. 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 343 
 
 " I von't be taken away ! Who dares say 
 so? " cried Wilson, who was back after another 
 fall upon his second's knee. 
 
 " His heart won't suffer him to cry ' Enough ! ' " 
 said General Fitzpatrick. " As his patron, Sir 
 Lothian, you should direct the sponge to be 
 thrown up." 
 
 "You think he can't win it? " 
 " He is hopelessly beat, sir." 
 " You don't know him. He's a glutton of the 
 first water." 
 
 "A gamer man never pulled his shirt off, but 
 the other is too strong for him." 
 
 " Well, sir, I believe that he can fight another 
 ten rounds." He half turned as he spoke, and I 
 saw him throw up his left arm with a singular 
 gesture into the air. 
 
 " Cut the ropes ! Fair play ! Wait till the 
 rain stops ! " roared a stentorian voice behind me, 
 and I saw that it came from the big man with the 
 bottle-green coat. His cry was a signal, for, like 
 a thunderclap, there came a hundred voices shout- 
 ing together : " Fair play for Gloucester ! Break 
 the ring ! Break the ring ! " 
 
 Jackson had called " Time ! " and the two 
 
 mud-plastered men were already upon their feet, 
 
 but the interest had suddenly changed from the 
 
 fight to the audience. A succession of heaves 
 
 - 23 
 
344 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 from the back of the crowd had sent a series of 
 long ripples running through it, all the heads 
 swaying rhythmically in one direction like a 
 wheatfield in a squall. With every impulsion the 
 oscillation increased, those in front trying vainly 
 to steady themselves against the rushes from be- 
 hind, until suddenly there came a sharp snap, two 
 white stakes with earth clinging to their points 
 flew into the outer ring, and a spray of people, 
 dashed from the solid wave behind, were thrown 
 against the line of beaters-out. Down came the 
 long horsewhips, swayed by the most vigorous 
 arms in England, but the wincing and shouting 
 victims had no sooner scrambled back a few 
 yards from the merciless cuts before a fresh 
 charge from the rear hurled them once more into 
 the arms of the prize-fighters. 
 
 Many threw themselves down upon the turf 
 and allowed successive waves to pass over their 
 bodies, while others, driven wild by the blows, re- 
 turned them with their hunting crops and walk- 
 ing canes. And then, as half the crowd strained 
 to the left and half to the right to avoid the pres- 
 sure from behind, the vast mass was suddenly 
 reft in twain, and through the gap surged the 
 rough fellows from behind, all armed with loaded 
 sticks, and yelling for " Fair play and Glouces- 
 ter ! " Their determined rush carried the prize- 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 345 
 
 fighters before them, the inner ropes snapped like 
 threads, and in an instant the ring was a swirling, 
 seething mass of figures, whips and sticks falling 
 and clattering, while, face to face in the middle of 
 all, so wedged that they could neither advance 
 nor retreat, the smith and the west countryman 
 continued their long-drawn battle, as oblivious of 
 the chaos raging around them as two bulldogs 
 who had got each other by the throat. The driv- 
 ing rain, the cursing and screams of pain, the 
 swish of the blows, the yelling of orders and ad- 
 vice, the heavy smell of the damp cloth — every 
 incident of that scene of my early youth comes 
 back to me now, in my old age, as clearly as if it 
 had been but yesterday. 
 
 It was not easy for us to observe anything at 
 the time, however, for we were ourselves in the 
 midst of the frantic crowd, swaying about and 
 carried occasionally quite off our feet, but endeav- 
 ouring to keep our places behind Jackson and 
 Berkeley Craven, who, with sticks and whips 
 meeting over their heads, were still calling the 
 rounds and superintending the fight. 
 
 " The ring's broken ! " shouted Sir Lothian 
 Hume. " I appeal to the referee ! The fight is 
 null and void." 
 
 " You villain ! " cried my uncle, hotly. " This 
 is your doing ! " 
 
346 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " You have already an account to answer for 
 with me," said Hume with his sinister sneer, and 
 as he spoke he was swept by the rush of the 
 crowd into my uncle's very arms. The two 
 men's faces were not more than a few inches 
 apart, and Sir Lothian's bold eyes had to sink be- 
 fore the imperious scorn which gleamed coldly in 
 those of my uncle. 
 
 " We will settle our accounts, never fear, 
 though I degrade myself by meeting such a 
 blackleg. — What is it. Craven ? " 
 
 " We shall have to declare a draw, Tregellis." 
 
 " My man has the fight in hand." 
 
 " I can not help it. I can not attend to my 
 duties when every moment I am cut over with a 
 whip or a stick." 
 
 Jackson suddenly made a wild dash into the 
 crowd, but returned with empty hands and a rue- 
 ful face. 
 
 " They've stolen my timekeeper's watch ! " he 
 cried. " A little cove snatched it out of my hand." 
 
 My uncle clapped his hand to his fob. 
 
 " Mine has gone also," he cried. 
 
 " Draw it at once or your man will get hurt," 
 said Jackson. And we saw that as the undaunted 
 smith stood up to Wilson for another round a 
 dozen rough fellows were clustering round him 
 with bludgeons. 
 
'»-* c 
 
 l^'^^' 
 
 " I hope I have not hurt you much.' 
 
THE SMITH'S LAST BATTLE. 347 
 
 " Do you consent to a draw, Sir Lothian 
 Hume?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " And you, Sir Charles ? " 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " The ring is gone." 
 
 " That is no fault of mine." 
 
 " Well, I see no help for it. As referee I 
 order that the men be withdrawn, and that the 
 stakes be returned to their owners." 
 
 " A draw ! a draw ! " shrieked every one, and 
 the crowd in an instant dispersed in every direc- 
 tion, the pedestrians running to get a good lead 
 upon the London road, and the Corinthians in 
 search of their horses and carriages. Harrison 
 ran over to Wilson's corner and shook him by the 
 hand. 
 
 " I hope I have not hurt you much." 
 
 " I'm hard put to it to stand. How are 
 you? 
 
 " My head's singin' like a kettle. It was the 
 rain that helped me." 
 
 " Yes, I thought I had you beaten one time. 
 I never wish a better battle." 
 
 " Nor me, either. Good-by." 
 
 And so those two brave-hearted fellows made 
 their way amid the yelping roughs, like two 
 wounded lions amid a pack of wolves and 
 
348 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 jackals. I say again that if the ring has fallen 
 low, it is not in the main the fault of the 
 men who have done the fighting, but it lies 
 at the door of ringside parasites and ruffians, 
 who are as far below the honest pugilist as 
 the welsher and the blackleg are below the 
 noble race horse which serves them as a pro- 
 test for their villainies. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CLIFFE ROYAL. 
 
 My uncle was humanely anxious to get Har- 
 rison to bed as soon as possible, for the smith, 
 although he laughed at his own injuries, had 
 none the less been severely punished. 
 
 " Don't you dare ever to ask my leave to 
 fight again. Jack Harrison ! " said his wife as 
 she looked ruefully at his battered face. " Why, 
 it's worse than when you beat Black Baruk, and 
 if it weren't for your topcoat I couldn't swear 
 you were the man who led me to the altar. 
 If the King of England ask you, I'll never let 
 you do it more ! " 
 
 " Well, old lass, I give my davy that I never 
 will. It's best that I leave fightin' before fight- 
 in' leaves me." He screwed up his face as he 
 took a sup from Sir Charles's brandy flask. 
 " It's fine liquor, sir, but it gets into my cut 
 lips most cruel — Why, here's John Cummings, 
 of the Friar's Oak Inn, as I'm a sinner, and 
 
 349 
 
3 so 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 seekin' for a mad doctor, to judge by the look 
 of him." 
 
 It was certainly a most singular figure who 
 was approaching us over the moor. With the 
 flushed, dazed face of a man who is just recov- 
 ering from recent intoxication, the landlord was 
 tearing madly about, his hat gone, and his hair 
 and beard flying in the wind. He ran in little 
 zigzags from one knot of people to another, 
 while his peculiar appearance drew a running 
 fire of witticisms as he went so that he re- 
 minded me irresistibly of a snipe skimming 
 along through a line of guns. We saw him 
 stop for an instant by the yellow barouche and 
 hand something to Sir Lothian Hume. Then 
 on he came again, until at last catching sight 
 of us he gave a cry of joy and ran for us full 
 speed, with a note held out at arm's length. 
 
 " You're a nice cove, too, John Cummings," 
 said Harrison, reproachfully. " Didn't I tell 
 you not to let a drop pass your lips until 
 you had given your message to Sir Charles ? " 
 
 " I ought to be pole-axed, I ought," he cried, 
 in bitter repentance. " I. asked for you. Sir 
 Charles, as I'm a livin' man I did, but you 
 weren't there, and what with bein' so pleased 
 at gettin' such odds when I knew Harrison 
 was goin' to fight, an' what with the land- 
 
CLIFFE ROYAL. 351 
 
 lord at the George wantin' me to try his own 
 specials, I let my senses go clear away from 
 me. And now it's ,only after the fight is over 
 that I see you, Sir Charles, an' if you lay 
 that whip over my back it's only what I de- 
 serve." 
 
 But my uncle was paying no attention what- 
 ever to the voluble self-reproaches of the land- 
 lord. He had opened the note and was read- 
 ing it with a slight raising of the eyebrows, 
 which was almost the very highest note in his 
 limited emotional gamut. 
 
 " What make you of this, nephew ?" he asked, 
 handing it to me. 
 
 This was what I read : 
 
 " Sir Charles Tregellis— For God's sake, 
 come at once, when this reaches you, to Cliffe 
 Royal, and tarry as little as possible upon the 
 way ! You will see me^here, and you will 
 hear much which concerns you deeply. I pray 
 you to come as soon as may be, and until 
 then I remain him whom you knew as 
 
 "James Harrison." 
 
 " Well, nephew ? " asked my uncle. 
 " Why, sir, I can not tell what" it may 
 mean." 
 
 " Who gave it to you, sirrah ? " 
 
352 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " It was young Jim Harrison himself, sir," 
 said the landlord, " though indeed I scarce 
 knew him at first, for he looked like his own 
 ghost. He was so eager that it would reach 
 you that he would not leave me until the 
 horse was harnessed and I started upon my 
 way. There was one note for you and one 
 for Sir Lothian Hume, and I wish to God he 
 had chosen a better messenger ! " 
 
 " This is a mystery, indeed," said ray uncle, 
 bending his brows over the note. " What should 
 he be doing at that house of ill-omen? And 
 why does he sign himself ' him whom you 
 knew as Jim Harrison' ? — By what other style 
 should 1 know him ? — Harrison, you can throw 
 a light upon this ! — You, Mrs. Harrison, I see 
 by your face that you understand it ! " 
 
 " Maybe we do. Sir Charles, but we are 
 plain folk, my Jack and I, and we go as far 
 as we see our way, and when we don't see 
 our way any longer we just stop. We've been 
 goin' this twenty year, but now we'll draw 
 aside and let our betters get to the front; so 
 if you Avish to find what that note means I 
 can only advise you to do what you are 
 asked, and to drive over to Cliffe Royal, 
 where you will find out." 
 
 My uncle put the note into his pocket. 
 
CLIFFE ROYAL. 353 
 
 " I don't move until I have seen you safely in 
 the hands of the surgeon, Harrison." 
 
 " Never mind for me, sir. The missus and me 
 can drive down to Crawley in the gig, and a yard 
 of stickin' plaster and a raw steak will soon set 
 me to rights." 
 
 But my uncle was by no means to be per- 
 suaded, and he drove the pair into Crawley — his 
 wife in the very best quarters which money could 
 procure. Then, after a hasty luncheon, we turned 
 the mares' heads for the south. 
 
 " This ends my connection with the ring, 
 nephew," said my uncle. " I perceive that there 
 is no possible means by which it can be kept 
 pure from roguery. I have been cheated and 
 befooled ; but a man learns wisdom at last, and 
 never again do I give countenance to a prize- 
 fight." 
 
 Had I been older or he less formidable, I 
 might have said what was in my heart and 
 begged him to give up other things also, to come 
 out from those shallow circles in which he lived, 
 and to find some work that was worthy of his 
 strong brain and his good heart. But the 
 thought had hardly formed itself in my mind be- 
 fore he had dropped his serious vein and was 
 chatting away about some new silver-mounted 
 harness which he intended to spring upon the 
 
354 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Mall, and about the match for a thousand guin- 
 eas which he meant to make between his filly 
 Ethelberta and Lord Doncaster's famous three- 
 year-old, Aurelius. 
 
 We had got as far as Whiteman's Green, 
 which is rather more than midway between Craw- 
 ley Down and Friar's Oak, when, looking back- 
 ward, I saw far down the road the gleam of the 
 sun upon a high, yellow carriage. Sir Lothian 
 Hume was following us. 
 
 " He has had the same summons as we, and is 
 bound for the same destination," said my uncle, 
 glancing over his shoulder at the distant ba- 
 rouche. " We are both wanted at Cliffe Royal — 
 we, the two survivors of that black business. 
 And it is Jim Harrison of all people who calls us 
 there. Nephew, I have had an eventful life, but 
 I feel as if the very strangest scene of it were 
 waiting for me among those .trees." 
 
 He whipped up the mares, and now from the 
 curve of the road we could see the high, dark 
 pinnacles of the old manor house shooting up above 
 the ancient oaks which ring it round. The sight 
 of it with its blood-stained and ghost-blasted 
 reputation would in itself have been enough to 
 send a thrill through my nerves, but when the 
 words of my uncle made me suddenly realize 
 that this strange summons was indeed for the 
 
CLIFFE ROYAL. 355 
 
 two men who were concerned in that old-world 
 tragedy, and that it was the playmate of my 
 youth who had sent it, I caught my breath as I 
 seemed vaguely to catch a glimpse of some por- 
 tentous thing forming itself- in front of us. The 
 rusted gates between the crumbling heraldic pil- 
 lars were folded back, and my uncle flicked the 
 mares impatiently as we flew up the weed-grown 
 avenue, until he pulled them on their haunches 
 before the time-blotched steps. The front door 
 was open, and Boy Jim was waiting there to 
 meet us. 
 
 But it was a dififerent Boy Jim from him 
 whom I had known and loved. There was a 
 change in him somewhere — a change so marked 
 that it was the first thing that I noticed, and 
 yet so subtle that I could not put words to 
 it. He was not better dressed than of old, for 
 I well knew the old brown suit that he wore. 
 He was not less comely, for his training had 
 left him the very model of what a man should 
 be. And yet there was a change, a touch of dig- 
 nity in the expression, a suggestion of confidence 
 in the bearing which seemed, now that it was sup- 
 plied, to be the one thing which had been needed 
 to give him harmony and finish. Somehow, in 
 spite of his prowess, his old school name of 
 " Boy " had clung very naturally to him, until 
 
356 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 that instant when I saw him standing in his self- 
 contained and magnificent manhood in the door- 
 way of the ancient house. A woman stood be- 
 side him, her hand resting upon his shoulder, 
 and I saw that it was Miss Hinton, of Anstey 
 Cross. 
 
 "You remember me, Sir Charles Tregellis," 
 said she, coming forward, as we sprang down 
 from the curricle. 
 
 My uncle looked hard at her with a puzzled 
 face. 
 
 " I do not think that I have the privilege, 
 madame. And yet " 
 
 " Polly Hinton, of the Haymarket. You surely 
 can not have forgotten Polly Hinton?" 
 
 " Forgotten ! Why, we have mourned for 
 you in Fop's Alley for more years than I care 
 to think of. But what in the name of won- 
 der ! " 
 
 " I was privately married and I retired from 
 the stage. I want you to forgive me for taking 
 Jim away from you last night." 
 
 " It was you, then ? " 
 
 " I had a stronger claim even than you could 
 have. You were his patron. I was his mother." 
 She drew his head down to hers as she spoke, and 
 there with their cheeks together were the two 
 faces, the one stamped with the waning beauty of 
 
"SEkia 
 
 W-i'^-- 
 
 > 
 
 <t 
 
 A woman stood beside him. 
 
CLIFFE ROYAL. 357 
 
 womanhood, the other with the waxing strength 
 of man, and yet, so alike in the dark eyes, the 
 blue-black hair, and the broad white brow, that I 
 marvelled that I had never read her secret on the 
 first days that I had seen them together. " Yes," 
 she cried, " he is my own boy, and he saved me 
 from what is worse than death, as your nephew 
 Rodney could tell you. Yet my lips were sealed, 
 and it was only last night that I could tell him 
 that it was his mother whom he had brought 
 back by his gentleness and his patience into the 
 sweetness of life." 
 
 " Hush, mother ! " said Jim, turning his lips to 
 her cheek. " There are some things which are 
 between ourselves. — But tell me, Sir Charles, 
 how went the fight?" 
 
 " Your uncle would have won it, but the 
 roughs broke the ring." 
 
 " He is no uncle of mine. Sir Charles, but he 
 has been the best and truest friend both to me 
 and my father that ever the world could afford. 
 I only know one as true," he continued, taking 
 me by the hand, " and dear old Rodney Stone 
 is his name. — But I trust he was not much 
 hurt?" 
 
 " A week or two will set him right. But I 
 can not pretend to understand how this matter 
 stands, and you must allow me to say that I have 
 
358 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 not heard you advance anything yet which seems 
 to justify you in abandoning your engagements 
 at a moment's notice." 
 
 " Come in, Sir Charles, and I am convinced 
 that you will acknowledge that I could not have 
 done otherwise. — But here, if I mistake not, is 
 Sir Lothian Hume." 
 
 The yellow barouche had swung into the 
 avenue, and a few moments later the weary, pant- 
 ing horses had pulled up behind our curricle. 
 Sir Lothian sprang out, looking as black as a 
 thundercloud. 
 
 " Stay where you are, Corcoran," said he, and 
 I caught a glimpse of a bottle-green coat which 
 told me who was his travelling companion. 
 " Well," he continued, looking round him with 
 an insolent stare, " I should vastly like to know 
 who has the insolence to give me so pressing 
 an invitation to visit my own house, and what in 
 the devil you mean by daring to trespass upon 
 my grounds ! " 
 
 " I promise you that you will understand this 
 and a good deal more before we part. Sir Lo- 
 thian," said Jim, with a curious smile playing oven 
 his face. " If you will only follow me I will en- 
 deavour to make it all clear to you." 
 
 With his mother's hand in his own he led us 
 into that ill-omened room, where the cards were 
 
CLIFFE ROYAL. 359 
 
 still heaped upon the sideboard and the dark 
 shadow lurked in the corner of the ceiling. 
 
 " Now, sirrah, your explanation ! " cried Sir 
 Lothian, standing, with his arms folded, by the 
 door. 
 
 " My first explanation I owe to you. Sir 
 Charles," said Jim, and as I listened to his voice 
 and noted his manner I could not but admire the 
 effect which the company of her whom he now 
 knew to be his mother had had upon a rude coun- 
 try lad. " I wish to tell you what occurred last 
 night." 
 
 " I will tell it for you, Jim," said his mother. 
 — " You must know. Sir Charles, that though my 
 son knew nothing of his parents, we were both 
 alive, and had never lost sight of him. For my 
 part, I let him have his own way in going to Lon- 
 don and taking up this challenge. It was only 
 yesterday that it came to the ears of his father, 
 who would have none of it. He was in the 
 weakest health, and his wishes were not to be 
 gainsaid. He ordered me to go at once and to 
 bring his son to his side. I was at my wits' 
 end, for I was sure that Jim would never come 
 unless a substitute were provided for him. I 
 went to the kind, good couple who had brought 
 him up, and I told him how matters stood. 
 
 " Mrs. Harrison loved Jim as if he had been 
 24 
 
360 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 her own son, and her husband loved mine, so 
 they came to my help, and may God bless them for 
 their kindness to a distracted wife and mother ! 
 Harrison would take Jim's place if Jim would go 
 to his father. Then I drove to Crawley. I found 
 out which was Jim's room, and I spoke to him 
 through the window, for I was sure that those 
 who had backed him would not let him go. I 
 told him that I was his mother. I told him who 
 was his father. I said that I had my phaeton 
 ready, and that he might, for all I knew, be only 
 in time to receive the dying blessing of that par- 
 ent whom he had never known. Still the boy 
 would not go until he had my assurance that 
 Harrison would take his place." 
 
 " Why did he not leave a message with Bel- 
 cher?" 
 
 " My head was in a whirl. Sir Charles. To 
 find a father and a mother, a new name and 
 a new rank in a few minutes, might turn a 
 stronger brain than ever mine was. My moth- 
 er begged me to come with her, and I went. 
 The phaeton was waiting, but we had scarcely 
 started when some fellow seized the horse's 
 head and a couple of ruffians attacked us. 
 One of them I beat over the head with the 
 butt of the whip, so that he dropped the 
 cudgel with which he was about to strike me ; 
 
CLIFFE ROYAL. 361 
 
 then, lashing the horse, I shook off the others 
 and got safely away. I can not imagine who 
 they were or why they should molest us." 
 
 " Perhaps Sir Lothian Hume could tell you," 
 said my uncle. 
 
 Our enemy said nothing, but his little gray 
 eyes slid round with a most murderous glance 
 in our direction. 
 
 " After I had come here and seen my father, 
 I went down " 
 
 My uncle stopped him with a cry of aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " What did you say, young man ? You came 
 here and you saw your father. Here at Cliffe 
 Royal ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 My uncle had turned very pale. 
 
 " In God's name then tell us who your 
 father is ! " 
 
 Jim made no answer, save to point over our 
 shoulders, and glancing round we became aware 
 that two people had entered the room through 
 the door which led to the bedroom stair. The 
 one I recognised in an instant. That impassive, 
 masklike face and demure manner could only 
 belong to Ambrose, the former valet of my 
 uncle. The other was a very different and 
 even mote singular figure. He was' a tall man. 
 
362 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 clad in a dark dressing-gown, and leaning heav- 
 ily upon a stick. His long, bloodless counte- 
 nance was so thin and so white that it gave the 
 strangest illusion of transparency. Only within 
 the folds of a shroud have I ever seen so wan 
 a face. The brindled hair and the rounded 
 back gave the impression of advanced age, and 
 it was only the dark brows and the bright, 
 alert eyes glancing out from beneath them 
 which made me doubt whether it was really 
 an old man who stood before us. 
 
 There was an instant of silence, broken by 
 a deep oath from Sir Lothian Hume. 
 
 " Lord Avon, by God ! " he cried. 
 
 " Very much at your service, gentlemen," 
 answered the strange figure in the dressing- 
 gown. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 LORD AVON. 
 
 My uncle was an impassive man by nature, 
 and had become more so by the tradition of 
 the society in which he lived. He could have 
 turned a card upon which his fortune depended 
 without the twitch of a muscle, and I had 
 seen him myself driving to imminent death on 
 the Godstone road with as calm a face as if 
 he -were out for his daily airing in the Mall. 
 But now the shock which had come upon him 
 was so great that he could only stand with 
 white cheeks and staring, incredulous eyes. 
 Twice I saw him open his lips, and twice he 
 put his hand up to his throat as though a 
 barrier had risen between himself and his ut- 
 terance. Finally, he took a sudden little run 
 forward with both his hands thrown out in 
 greeting. 
 
 " Ned ! " he cried. 
 
 But the strange man who stood before him 
 
 folded his arms over his breast. 
 
 363 
 
264 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " No, Charles," said he. 
 
 My uncle stopped and looked at him in 
 amazement. 
 
 " Surely, Ned, you have a greeting for me 
 after all these years ! " 
 
 " You believed me to have done this deed, 
 Charles. I read it in your eyes and in your 
 manner on that terrible morning. You never 
 asked me for an explanation. You never con- 
 sidered how impossible such a crime must be 
 for a man of my character. At the first breath 
 of suspicion you, my intimate friend, the man 
 who knew me best, set me down as a thief 
 and a murderer." 
 
 " No, no, Ned." 
 
 " You did, Charles. I read it in your eyes. 
 And so it was that when I wished to leave that 
 which was most precious to me in safe hands I 
 had to pass you over and to place him in the 
 charge of the one man who from the first never 
 doubted my innocence. Better a thousand times 
 that my son should be brought up in a humble 
 station and in ignorance of his unfortunate father 
 than that he should learn to share the doubts and 
 suspicions of his equals ! " 
 
 " Then he is really your son ! " cried my un- 
 cle, staring at Jim in amazement. 
 
 For answer the man stretched out his long 
 
LORD AVON. 365 
 
 withered arm and placed a gaunt hand upon the 
 shoulder of the actress, while she looked up at 
 him with love in her eyes. 
 
 " I married, Charles, and I kept it secret from 
 my friends, for I had gone to the stage for my 
 wife. You know the foolish pride which has al- 
 ways been the strongest part of my nature. I 
 could not bear to avow that which I had done. 
 It was this neglect upon my part which led to 
 an estrangement between us, and drove her into 
 habits for which it is I who am to blame and not 
 she. Yet, on account of these same habits I took 
 the child from her and gave her an allowance on 
 condition that she did not interfere with it. I 
 had feared that the boy might receive evil from 
 her, and had never dreamed in my blindness that 
 she might get good from him. But I have 
 learned in my miserable life, Charles, that there is 
 a power which fashions things for us, though we 
 may strive to thwart it, and that we are in truth 
 driven by an unseen current toward a certain 
 goal, however much we my deceive ourselves 
 into thinking that it is our own sails and oars 
 which are speeding us upon our way." 
 
 My eyes had been upon the face of my uncle 
 as he listened, but now as I turned them from 
 him they fell once more upon the thin, wolfish 
 face of Sir Lothian Hume. He stood near the 
 
366 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 window, his gray silhouette thrown up against 
 the square of dusty glass, and I have never seen 
 such a play of evil passions, of anger, of jealousy, 
 of disappointed greed, upon a human face before. 
 
 " Am I to understand," said he, in a loud, harsh 
 voice, " that this young man claims to be the heir 
 of the peerage of Avon ? " 
 
 " He is my lawful son." 
 
 " I knew you fairly well, sir, in our youth, but 
 you will allow me to observe that neither I nor 
 any friend of yours ever heard of a wife or son. 
 I defy Sir Charles Tregellis to say that he ever 
 dreamed that there was any heir except myself." 
 
 " I have already explained. Sir Lothian, why I 
 kept ray marriage secret." 
 
 " You have explained, sir, but it is for others 
 in another place to say if that explanation is satis- 
 factory." 
 
 Two blazing dark eyes flashed out of the pale, 
 haggard face with as strange and sudden an effect 
 as if a stream of light were to beat through the 
 windows of a shattered and ruined house. 
 
 " You dare to doubt my word ! " 
 
 " I demand a proof." 
 
 " My word is proof to those who know me." 
 
 " Excuse me. Lord Avon, but I know you, and 
 I see no reason why I should accept your state- 
 ment." 
 
Lord Avon staggered forward. 
 
LORD AVON. 367 
 
 It was a brutal speech, and brutally delivered. 
 Lord Avon staggered forward, and it was only 
 his son on one side and his wife on the other 
 who kept his quivering hands from the throat of 
 his insulter. Sir Lothian recoiled from the pale, 
 fierce face with the black brows, but he still 
 glared angrily about the room. 
 
 " A very pretty conspiracy, this," he cried, 
 " with a criminal, an actress, and a prize-fighter 
 all playing their parts. — Sir Charles Tregellis, you 
 snail hear from me again ! — And you, also, my 
 lord ! " He turned on his heel and strode from 
 the room. 
 
 " He has gone to denounce me," said Lord 
 Avon, a spasm of wounded pride distorting his 
 features. 
 
 " Shall I bring him back ? " cried Boy Jim. 
 
 " No, no, let him go. It is as well, for I have 
 already made up my mind that my duty to you, 
 my son, outweighs that which I owe, and have at 
 such bitter cost fulfilled to my brother and my 
 family." 
 
 " You did me an injustice, Ned," said my un- 
 cle, " if you thought that I had forgotten you or 
 I had judged you unkindly. If ever I have that 
 thought that you had done this deed — and how 
 could I doubt the evidence of my own eyes— I 
 have always believed that it was at a time when 
 
368 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 your mind was unhinged, and when you knew no 
 more of what you were about than the man who 
 is walking in his sleep." 
 
 " What do you mean when you talk about the 
 evidence of your own eyes ? " asked Lord Avon, 
 looking hard at my uncle. 
 
 " I saw you, Ned, upon that accursed night." 
 
 "Saw me? Where?" 
 
 " In the passage." 
 
 "And doing what?" 
 
 " You were coming from your brother's room. 
 I had heard his voice raised in anger and pain 
 only an instant before. You carried in your hand 
 a bag full of money, and your face betrayed the 
 utmost agitation. If you can but explain to me, 
 Ned, how you came to be there, you will take 
 from my heart a weight which has pressed upon 
 it for years." 
 
 No one now would have recognised in my uncle 
 the man who was the leader of all the fops of 
 London. In the presence of this old friend and 
 of the tragedy which girt him round the veil of 
 triviality and affection had been rent, and I felt 
 all my gratitude toward him deepening for the 
 first time into affection while I watched his pale, 
 anxious face, and the eager hope which shone in 
 his eyes as he awaited his friend's explanation. 
 Lord Avon sank his face in his hands, and for a 
 
LORD AVON. 369 
 
 few moments there was silence in the dim, gray- 
 room. 
 
 " I do not wonder now that you were shaken," 
 said he at last, " My God, what a net was cast 
 round me ! Had this vile charge been brought 
 against me, you, my dearest friend, would have 
 been compelled to tear away the last doubt as to 
 my guilt. And yet, in spite of what you have 
 seen, Charles, I am as innocent in the matter as 
 you are." 
 
 " I thank God that I hear you say so." 
 
 " But you are not satisfied, Charles. I can 
 read it on your face. You wish to know why 
 an innocent man should conceal himself for all 
 these years." 
 
 " Your word is enough for me, Ned ; but the 
 world will wish this other question answered 
 also." 
 
 " It was to save the family honour, Charles. 
 You know how dear it was to me. I could not 
 clear myself without proving my brother to have 
 been guilty of the foulest crime which a gentle- 
 man could commit. For eighteen years I have 
 screened him, at the expense of everything which 
 a man could sacrifice. I have lived a living 
 death, which has left me an old and shattered 
 man, when I am but in my fortieth year. But 
 now, when I am faced with the alternative of 
 
370 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 telling the facts about my brother or of wronging 
 my son, I can only act in one fashion, and the 
 more so since T have reason to hope that a way 
 may be found by which what I am now about to 
 disclose to you need never come to the public 
 ear." 
 
 He rose from his chair, and, leaning heavily 
 upon his two supporters, he tottered across the 
 room to the dust-covered sideboard. There, in the 
 centre of it, was lying that ill-boding pile of time- 
 stained, mildewed cards, just as Boy Jim and I 
 had seen them years before. Lord Avon turned 
 them over with trembling fingers, and then, pick- 
 ing up half a dozen, he brought them to my 
 uncle. 
 
 " Place your finger and thumb upon the left- 
 hand bottom corner of this card, Charles," said 
 he. " Pass them lightly backward and forward, 
 and tell me what you feel." 
 
 " It has been pricked with a pin." 
 
 " Precisely. What is the card ? " 
 
 My uncle turned it over. 
 
 " It is the king of clubs." 
 
 " Try the bottom comer of this one." 
 
 " It is quite smooth." 
 
 " And the card is ? " 
 
 " The three of spades." 
 
 " And this one ? " 
 
LORD AVON. 371 
 
 " It has been pricked. It is the ace of hearts." 
 
 Lord Avon hurled them down upon the floor. 
 
 " There, you have the whole accursed story ! " 
 he cried. " Need I go further, where every word 
 is an agony? " 
 
 " I see something, but not all. You must con- 
 tinue, Ned." 
 
 The frail figure stiffened itself as though he 
 were visibly bracing himself for an effort. 
 
 " I will tell it you then once and forever. 
 Never again, I trust, will it be necessary for me 
 to open my lips about the miserable business. 
 You remember our game. You remember how 
 we lost. You remember how you all retired and 
 left me sitting in this very room and at that 
 very table. Far from being tired, I was exceed- 
 ingly wakeful, and I remained here for an hour 
 or more, thinking over the incidents of the game 
 and the changes which it promised to bring 
 about in my fortunes. I had, as you will recol- 
 lect, lost heavily, and my only consolation was 
 that my own brother had won. I knew that 
 owing to his reckless mode of life he was firmly 
 in the clutches of the Jews, and I hoped that 
 that which had shaken my position might have 
 the effect of restoring his. As I sat there, finger- 
 ing the cards in an abstracted way, some chance 
 led me to observe the small needle pricks which 
 
372 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 you have just felt. I went over the packs and 
 found, to my unspeakable horror, that any one 
 who was in the secret could hold them in dealing 
 in such a way as to be able to count the exact 
 number of high cards which fell to each of his 
 opponents. And then, with such a flush of shame 
 and disgust as I had never known, I remembered 
 how my attention had been drawn to my brother's 
 mode of dealing, its slowness, and the way in 
 which he held each card by the lower corner. 
 
 " I did not condemn him precipitately. I sat 
 for a long time calling to mind every incident 
 which could tell one way or the other. Alas ! it 
 all went to confirm me in my first horrible sus- 
 picion, and to turn it into a certainty. My 
 brother had ordered the packs from Ledbury's in 
 Bond Street. They had been for some hours in 
 his chambers. He had played throughout with 
 a decision which had surprised us at the time. 
 Above all, I could not conceal from myself that 
 his past life was not such as to make even so 
 abominable a crime as this impossible to him. 
 Tingling with anger and shame, I went straight 
 up that stair, the cards in my hand, and I taxed 
 him with this lowest and meanest of all the 
 crimes to which a villain could descend. 
 
 " He had not retired to rest, and his ill-gotten 
 gains were spread out upon the dressing table. I 
 
LORD AVON. 373 
 
 hardly know what I said to him, but the facts 
 were so deadly that he did not attempt to deny 
 his guilt. You will remember as the only mitiga- 
 tion of his crime that he was not yet one and 
 twenty years of age. My words overwhelmed 
 him. He went on his knees to me, imploring me 
 to spare him. I told him that out of considera- 
 tion for our family I should make no public ex- 
 posure of him, but that he must never again in his 
 life lay his hand upon a card, and that the money 
 which he had won must be returned next morn- 
 ing to my guests with an explanation. It would 
 be social ruin, he protested. I answered that he 
 must take the consequences of his own deed. 
 Then and there I burned the papers which he 
 had won from me, and I replaced in a canvas bag 
 which lay upon the table all the gold pieces. I 
 would have left the room without another word, 
 but he clung to me and tore the ruffle from my 
 wrist in his attempt to hold me back and to pre- 
 vail upon me to promise to say nothing to you or 
 Sir Lothian Hume. It was his despairing cry 
 when he found that I was proof against all his en- 
 treaties which reached your ears, Charles, and 
 caused you to open your chamber door and to 
 see me as I returned to my room." 
 
 My uncle drew a long breath of relief. 
 " Nothing could be clearer! " he murmured. 
 
374 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " In the morning I came, as you remember, to 
 your room, and I returned your money. 1 did 
 the same to Sir Lothian Hume. I said nothing 
 of my reasons for doing so, for I found that I 
 could not bring myself to confess our disgrace to 
 you. Then came the horrible discovery which 
 has darkened my life and which was as great a 
 mystery to me as it has been to you. I saw that 
 I was suspected, and I saw also that even if I 
 were to clear myself it could only be done by a 
 public confession of the infamy of my brother. I 
 shrank from it, Charles. Any personal suffering 
 seemed to me to be better than to bring public 
 shame upon a family which has held an untar- 
 nished record through so many centuries. I fled 
 from my trial, therefore, and disappeared from 
 the world. 
 
 " But, first of all, it was necessary that I should 
 make arrangements for the wife and son, of 
 whose existence you and my other friends were 
 ignorant. — It is with shame, Mary, that I confess 
 it, and I acknowledge to you that the blame of all 
 the consequences rests with me rather than with 
 you. — At the time there were reasons, now hap- 
 pily long gone past, which made me determine 
 that the son was better apart from the mother, 
 whose absence at that age he would not miss. I 
 would have taken you into my confidence, 
 
LORD AVON. 375 
 
 Charles, had it not been that your suspicions had 
 wounded me deeply — for I did not at that time 
 understand how strong the reasons were which 
 had prejudiced you against me. 
 
 " On the evening after the tragedy I fled to 
 London, and arranged that my wife should have 
 a fitting allowance, on condition that she did not 
 interfere with the child. I had, as you remem- 
 ber, had much to do with Harrison, the prize- 
 fighter, and I had often had occasion to admire 
 his simple and honest nature. I took my boy to 
 him now, and I found him, as I expected, incredu- 
 lous as to my guilt, and ready to assist me in any 
 way. At his wife's entreaty he had just retired 
 from the ring, and was uncertain how he should 
 employ himself. I was able to fit him up as a 
 smith, on condition that he should ply his trade 
 at the village of Friar's Oak. My agreement was 
 that James was to be brought up as their nephew, 
 and that he should know nothing of his unhappy 
 parents. 
 
 " You will ask me why I selected Friar's Oak. 
 It was because I had already chosen my place of 
 concealment, and if I could not see my boy it 
 was at least some consolation to know that he 
 was near me. You are aware that this mansion 
 is one of the oldest in England, but you are not 
 aware that it has been built with a very special 
 25 
 
376 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 eye to concealment, that there are no less than 
 two habitable secret chambers, and that the outer 
 or thicker walls are tunnelled into passages. The 
 existence of these rooms has always been a family 
 secret, though it was one which I valued so little 
 that it was only the chance of my seldom using 
 the house which had prevented me from pointing 
 them out to some friend. Now I found that a se- 
 cure retreat was provided for me in my extremit}'. 
 I stole down to my own mansion, entered it at 
 night, and leaving all that was dear to me behind, 
 I crept like a rat behind the wainscot to live out 
 the remainder of my weary life in solitude and 
 misery. In this worn face, Charles, and in this 
 grizzled hair, you may read the diary of my most 
 miserable existence. 
 
 " Once a week Harrison used to bring me up 
 provisions, passing them through the pantry win- 
 dow which I left open for the purpose. Some- 
 times I would steal out at night and walk under 
 the stars once more, with the cool breeze upon 
 my forehead ; but this I had at last to stop, for I 
 was seen by the rustics, and rumours of a spirit at 
 Clifie Royal began to get about. One night two 
 ghost hunters " 
 
 " It was 1, father," cried Boy Jim ; " I and my 
 friend Rodney Stone." 
 
 " I knew it -was. Harrison told me so the 
 
LORD AVON. 377 
 
 same night. I was proud, James, to see that you 
 had the spirit of the Barringtons and that 1 had 
 an heir whose gallantry might redeem the family 
 blot which I had striven so hard to cover over. 
 Then came the day when your mother's kindness 
 — iher mistaken kindness — gave you the means of 
 escaping to London." 
 
 " Ah, Edward ! " cried his wife, " if you had 
 seen our boy, like a caged eagle, beating against 
 the bars, you would have helped to give him even 
 so short a flight as this." 
 
 " I do not blame you, Mary. It is possible 
 that I should. He went to London and he tried 
 to open a career for himself by his own strength 
 and courage. How many of our ancestors have 
 done the same, save only that a sword hilt lay in 
 their closed hands, but of them all I do not know 
 that any have carried themselves more gallantly ! " 
 
 " That I dare swear," said my uncle heartily. 
 
 " And then when Harrison at last returned I 
 learned that my son was actually matched to fight 
 in a public prize battle. That would not do, 
 Charles ! It was one thing to fight as you and I 
 have fought in our youth, and it was another to 
 compete for a purse of gold." 
 
 " My dear friend, I would not for the 
 world " 
 
 " Of course you would not, Charles. You 
 
378 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 chose the best man, and how could you do 
 otherwise ? But it would not do ! I determined 
 that the time had come when I should reveal my- 
 self to my son, the more so as there were many 
 signs that my most unnatural existence had seri- 
 ously weakened my health. Chance, or shall 1 
 not rather say Providence, had at last made clear 
 all that had been dark, and given me the means 
 of establishing my innocence. My wife went 
 yesterday to bring my boy at last to the side of 
 his unfortunate father." 
 
 There was silence for some time, and then it 
 was my uncle's voice which broke it. 
 
 " You've been the most ill-used man in the 
 world, Ned," said he. " Please God, we shall have 
 many years yet in which to make up to you for it. 
 But after all it seems to me that we are as far as 
 ever from learning how your unfortunate brother 
 met his death." 
 
 " For eighteen years it was as much a mystery 
 to me as to you, Charles. But now at last the 
 guilt is manifest. — Stand forward, Ambrose, and 
 tell your story as frankly and as fully as you have 
 told it to me." 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE valet's story. 
 
 The valet had shrunk into the dark corner of 
 the room and had remained so motionless that we 
 had forgotten his presence until upon this appeal 
 from his former master he took a step forward 
 into the light, turning his sallow face in our 
 direction. His usually impassive features were 
 in a state of painful agitation, and he spoke 
 slowly and with hesitation, as though his trem- 
 bling lips could hardly frame the words. And 
 yet so strong is habit that even in this extrem- 
 ity of emotion he assumed the deferential air of 
 the high-class valet, and his sentences formed 
 themselves in the sonorous fashion which had 
 struck my attention upon that first day when the 
 curricle of my uncle had stopped outside my 
 father's door. 
 
 " My Lady Avon and gentlemen," said he, "if 
 I have sinned in this matter, and I freely con- 
 fess that I have done so, I only know one way in 
 
 379 
 
38o RODNEY STONE. 
 
 which 1 can atone for it, and that is by making 
 the full and complete confession which my noble 
 master, Lord Avon, has demanded. I assure you, 
 then, that what I am about to tell you, surprising 
 as it may seem, is the absolute and undeniable 
 truth concerning the mysterious death of Captain 
 Barrington. 
 
 " It may seem impossible to you that one in 
 my humble walk of life should bear a deadly and 
 implacable hatred against a man in the position 
 of Captain Barrington. You think that the gulf 
 between is too wide. I can tell you, gentlemen, 
 that the gulf which can be bridged by unlawful 
 love can be spanned also by an unlawful hatred, 
 and that upon the day when this young man 
 stole from me all that made my life worth living 
 I vowed to Heaven that I should take from him 
 that foul life of his, though the deed would cover 
 but the tiniest fraction of the debt which he 
 owed me. I see that you look askance at me. 
 Sir Charles Tregellis, but you should pray to 
 God, sir, that you may never have the chance of 
 finding out what you would yourself be capable 
 of in the same position ! " 
 
 It was a wonder to all of us to see this man's 
 fiery nature breaking suddenly through the arti- 
 ficial constraints with which he held it in check. 
 His short, dark hair seemed to bristle upward, 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 381 
 
 his eyes glowed with the intensity of his passion, 
 and his face expressed a malignity of hatred 
 which neither the death of his enemy nor the 
 lapse of years could mitigate. The demure serv- 
 ant was gone, and there stood in his place a deep 
 and dangerous man — one who might be an ardent 
 lover or a most vindictive foe. 
 
 " We were about to be married, she and I, 
 when som^ black chance threw him across our 
 path. I do not know by what base deceptions he 
 lured her away from me. I have heard that she 
 was only one of many and that he was an adept 
 at the art. It was done before ever I knew the 
 danger, and she was left with her broken heart 
 and her ruined life to return to that home into 
 which she had brought disgrace and misery. I 
 only saw her once. Sh'e told me that her se- 
 ducer had burst out a laughing when she had 
 reproached him for his perfidy, and I swore to 
 her that his heart's blood would pay me for that 
 laugh ! 
 
 " I was a valet at the time, but I was not yet 
 in the service of Lord Avon. I applied for and 
 gained that position with the one idea that it 
 might give me an opportunity of settling my ac- 
 counts with his younger brother. And yet my 
 chance was a terribly long time coming, for many 
 months had passed before the visit to Cliffe 
 
382 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Royal gave me the opportunity which I longed 
 for by day and dreamed of by night. When it 
 did come, however, it came in a fashion which 
 was more favourable to my plans than anything 
 that I had ever ventured to hope for. 
 
 " Lord Avon was of opinion that no one but 
 himself knew of the secret passages in Cliffe 
 Royal. In this he was mistaken. I knew of 
 them — or at least I knew enough of them to 
 serve ray purpose. I need not tell you how one 
 day, when preparing the chambers for the guests, 
 an accidental pressure upon part of the fittings 
 caused a panel to gape in the woodwork and 
 showed me a narrow opening in the wall. Mak- 
 ing my way down this, I found that another panel 
 led into a larger bedroom beyond. That was all 
 I knew, but it was all that was needed for my 
 purpose. The disposal of the rooms had been 
 left in my hands, and I had arranged that Cap- 
 tain Harrington should sleep in the larger and I 
 in the smaller. I could come upon him when I 
 wished, and no one would be the wiser. 
 
 " And then he arrived. How can I describe to 
 you the fever of impatience in which I lived 
 until the moment should come for which I had 
 waited and planned ? For a night and day they 
 gambled, and for a night and a day I counted the 
 minutes which brought me nearer to my man. 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 383 
 
 They might ring for fresh wine at what hour 
 they liked, they always found me waiting and 
 ready, so that this young captain hiccoughed out 
 that I was the model of all valets. My master 
 advised me to go to bed. He had noticed my 
 flushed cheek and my bright eyes, and he set me 
 down as being in a fever. So I was, but it was a 
 fever which only one medicine could assuage. 
 
 " Then at last, very early in the morning, I 
 heard them push back their chairs, and I knew 
 that their game had at last come to an end. 
 When I entered the room to receive my orders, I 
 found that Captain Barrington had already stum- 
 bled off to bed. The others had also retired and 
 my master was sitting alone at the table with 
 his empty bottle and the scattered cards in front 
 of him. He ordered me angrily to my room, and 
 this time I obeyed him. 
 
 " My first care was to provide myself with a 
 weapon. I knew that if I were face to face with 
 him I could tear his throat out, but I must so 
 arrange that the fashion of his death should 
 be a noiseless one. There was a hunting 
 trophy in the hall, and from it I took a 
 straight, heavy knife which I sharpened upon 
 my boot. Then I stole to my room and sat 
 waiting upon the side of my bed. I had made 
 up my mind what I should do. There would 
 
384 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 be little satisfaction in killing him if he was not 
 to know whose hand had struck the blow or 
 which of his sins it came to avenge. Could 
 I but bind him and gag him in his drunken 
 sleep, then a prick or two of my dagger would 
 arouse him to listen to what I had to say to 
 him. I pictured the look in his eyes as the 
 haze of sleep cleared slowly away from them, 
 the look of anger turning suddenly to stark 
 horror as he understood who I was and what 
 I had come for. It would be the supreme 
 moment of my life. 
 
 " I waited, as it seemed to me, for at least an 
 hour, but I had no watch, and my impatience 
 was such that I dare say it really was little 
 more than a quarter of that time. Then I 
 rose, removed my shoes, took my knife, and 
 having opened the panel slipped silently through. 
 It was not more than thirty feet that I had to 
 go, but I went inch by inch, for the old rotten 
 boards snapped like breaking twigs if a sud- 
 den weight was placed upon them. It was, of 
 course, pitch dark, and very, very slowly I felt 
 my way along. At last I saw a yellow seam 
 of light glimmering in front of me, and I 
 knew that it came from the other panel. I 
 was too soon then, since he had not yet ex- 
 tinguished his candles. I had waited many 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 385 
 
 months, and I could afford to wait another 
 hour, for I did not wish to do anything pre- 
 cipitately or in a hurry. 
 
 " It was very necessary to move silently now, 
 since I was within a few feet of my man, with 
 only the thin wooden partition between. Age 
 had warped and cracked the boards, so that 
 when I had at last very stealthily crept my 
 way as far as the sliding panel I found that I 
 could, without any difficulty, see into the room. 
 Captain Barrington was standing by the dress- 
 ing-table, with his coat and vest off. A large 
 pile of sovereigns and several slips of paper 
 were lying before him, and he was counting 
 over his gambling gains. His face was flushed, 
 and he was heavy from want of sleep and wine. 
 It rejoiced me to see it, for it meant that his 
 slumber would be deep, and that all would be 
 made easy for me. 
 
 " I was still watching him, when of a sudden 
 I saw him start and a terrible expression come 
 upon his face. For an instant my heart stood 
 still, for I feared that he had in some way 
 divined my presence. And then I heard the 
 voice of my master within. I could not see 
 the door by which he had entered, nor could 
 I see him where he stood, but I heard all that 
 he had to say. As I watched the captain's 
 
386 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 face flush fiery red and then turn to a livid white 
 as he listened to those bitter words which told 
 him of his infamy, my revenge was sweeter — 
 far sweeter — than my most pleasant dreams had 
 ever pictured it. I saw my master approach 
 the dressing-table, hold the papers in the flame 
 of the candle, throw their charred ashes into 
 the grate, and sweep the golden pieces into a 
 small brown canvas bag. Then as he turned 
 to leave the room the captain seized him by 
 the wrist, imploring him by the memory of 
 their mother to have mercy upon him, and I 
 loved ray master as I saw him drag his 
 sleeve from the grasp of the clutching fingers 
 and leave the stricken wretch grovelling upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " And now I was left with a difficult point 
 to settle, for it was hard for me to say 
 whether it was better that I should do that 
 which I had come for, or whether by holding 
 this man's guilty secret I might not have in 
 my hand a keener and more deadly weapon 
 than my master's hunting knife. I was sure 
 that Lord Avon could not and would not ex- 
 pose him. I knew your sense of family pride 
 too well, my lord, and I was certain that his 
 secret was safe in your hands. But I both 
 could and would, and then when his life had 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 387 
 
 been blasted and he had been hounded from 
 his regiment and from his clubs, it would be 
 time, perhaps, for me to deal in some other 
 way with him." 
 
 " Ambrose, you are a black villain ! " said my 
 uncle. 
 
 " We all have our own feelings, Sir Charles, 
 and you will permit me to say that a serv- 
 ing man may resent an injury as much as a 
 gentleman, though the redress of the duel is 
 denied to him. But I am telling you frankly, 
 at Lord Avon's request, all that I thought and 
 did upon that night, and I shall continue to do 
 so, even if I am not fortunate enough to win 
 your approval. 
 
 " When Lord Avon had left him the captain 
 remained for some time in a kneeling attitude 
 with his face sunk upon a chair. Then he rose 
 and paced slowly up and down the room, his 
 chin sunk upon his breast. Every now and 
 then he would pluck at his hair, or shake his 
 clinched hands in the air, and I saw the 
 moisture glisten upon his brow. For a time 
 I lost sight of him, and I heard him opening 
 drawer after drawer, as though he were in 
 search of something. Then he stood over by 
 his dressing-table, again, with his back turned 
 to me. His head was thrown a little back, 
 
288 RODNEY Stone. 
 
 and he had both hands up to the collar of his 
 shirt as though he were striving to undo it. 
 
 " And then there was a sound as if a ewer 
 had been upset, and down he sank upon the 
 ground, with his head in the corner, twisted 
 round at so strange an angle to his shoulders 
 that one glimpse of it told me that my man 
 was slipping swiftly from the clutch in which I 
 fancied that I held him. I slid my panel and 
 was in the room in an instant. His eyelids still 
 quivered, and it seemed to me as my gaze met 
 his glazing eyes that I could read both recog- 
 nition and surprise in them. I laid my knife 
 upon the floor, and I stretched myself out be- 
 side him that I might whisper in his ear one 
 or two little things of which I wished to re- 
 mind him, but even as I did so he gave a gasp 
 and was gone. 
 
 " It is singular that I, who had never feared him 
 in life, should be frightened at him now, and yet 
 when I looked at him and saw that all w^as mo- 
 tionless, save the creeping stain upon the carpet, 
 I was seized with a sudden foolish spasm of 
 terror, and, catching up my knife, I fied swiftly 
 and silently back to my own room, closing the 
 panels behind me. It was only when I had 
 reached it that I found that in my mad haste 
 I had carried away not the hunting knife which 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 389 
 
 I had taken with me, but the bloody razor which 
 had dropped from the dead man's hand. This I 
 concealed where no one has ever discovered it, 
 but my fears would not allow me to go back for 
 the other, as I might perhaps have done had I 
 foreseen how terribly its presence might tell 
 against my master. And that. Lady Avon and 
 gentlemen, is an exact and honest account of how 
 Captain Harrington came by his end." 
 
 " And how was it," asked my uncle, angrily, 
 " that you have allowed an innocent man to be 
 persecuted all these years when a word from you 
 might have saved him ? " 
 
 " Because I had every reason to believe. Sir 
 Charles, that that would be most unwelcome to 
 Lord Avon. How could I tell all this without 
 revealing the family scandal which he was so 
 anxious to conceal? I confess that at the be- 
 ginning I did not tell him what I had seen, 
 and my excuse must be that he disappeared 
 before I had time to determine what I should 
 do. For many a year, however — ever since I 
 have been in your service, Sir Charles — my con- 
 science tormented me, and I swore that if ever 
 I should find my old master I should reveal 
 everything to him. The chance of my overhear- 
 ing a story told by young Mister Stone here, 
 which showed me that some one was using the 
 
390 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 secret chambers of Cliffe Royal, convinced me 
 that Lord Avon was in hiding there, and I 
 lost no time in seeking him out and offering 
 to do him all the justice in my power." 
 
 " What he says is true," said his master, 
 " but it would have been strange indeed if I 
 had hesitated to sacrifice a frail life and fail- 
 ing health in a cause for which I freely sur- 
 rendered all that youth had to offer. But new 
 considerations have at last compelled me to 
 alter my resolution. My son, through igno- 
 rance of his true position, was drifting into a 
 course of life which accorded with his strength 
 and his spirit, but not with the traditions of 
 his house. Again, I reflected that many of 
 those who knew my brother had passed away, 
 that all the facts need not come out, and that 
 my death, while under the suspicion of such a 
 crime, would cast a deeper stain upon our name 
 than the sin which he had so terribly expi- 
 ated. For these reasons " 
 
 The tramp of several heavy footsteps rever- 
 berating through the old house broke in sud- 
 denly upon Lord Avon's words. His wan face 
 turned even a shade grayer as he heard it, and 
 he looked piteously to his wife and son. 
 
 " They will arrest me ! " he cried. " I must 
 submit to the degradation of an arrest ! " 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 
 
 391 
 
 " This way, Sir James, this way ! " said the 
 harsh tones of Sir Lothian Hume from with- 
 out. 
 
 " I do not need to be' shown the way in a 
 house where I have drunk many a bottle of 
 good claret," cried a deep voice in reply, and 
 there in the doorway stood the broad figure 
 of Squire Ovington, in his buckskins and top 
 boots, a riding crop in his hand. Sir Lothian 
 Hume was at his elbow, and I saw the faces 
 of two country constables peeping over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Lord Avon," said the squire, " as a magis- 
 trate of the county of Sussex it is my duty to 
 tell you that a warrant is held against you 
 for the wilful murder of your brother. Captain 
 iBarrington, in the year 1786." 
 
 " I am ready to answer the charge." 
 
 " This I tell you as a magistrate. But as a 
 man, and the squire of Rougham Grange, I'm 
 right glad to see you, Ned, and here's my hand 
 on it, and never will I believe that a good Tory 
 like yourself, and a man who could show his 
 horse's tail to any field in the whole Down 
 country, would ever, be capable of so vile an 
 act." 
 
 " You do me justice, James," said Lord Avon, 
 
 clasping the broad brown hand which the country 
 26 
 
392 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 squire had held out to him. " I am as innocent 
 as you are, and I can prove it." 
 
 " Damned glad I am to hear it, Ned ! That is 
 to say. Lord Avon, that any defence which you 
 may have to make will be decided upon by your 
 peers and by the laws of your country." 
 
 " Until which time," added Sir Lothian Hume, 
 " a stout door and a good lock will be the best 
 guarantee that Lord Avon will be there when 
 called for." 
 
 The squire's weather - stained face flushed 
 to a deeper red as he turned upon the Lon- 
 doner. 
 
 " Are yott the magistrate of a county, sir ? " 
 
 " I have not the honour, Sir James." 
 
 " Then how dare you advise a man who has 
 sat on the bench for nigh twenty years ? When 
 I am in doubt, sir, the law provides me with a 
 clerk, with whom I may confer, and I ask no 
 other assistance." 
 
 " You take too high a tone in this matter. Sir 
 James. I am not accustomed to be taken to task 
 so sharply." 
 
 " Nor am I accustomed, sir, to be interfered 
 with in my official duties. I speak as a magis- 
 trate, Sir Lothian, but I am always very ready to 
 sustain my opinions as a man." 
 
 Sir Lothian bowed. 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 393 
 
 " You will allow me lo observe, sir, that I have 
 personal interests of the highest importance in- 
 volved in this matter. I have every reason to 
 believe that there is a conspiracy afoot which 
 will affect my position as heir to Lord Avon's 
 titles and estates. I desire his safe custody in 
 order that this matter may be cleared up, and I 
 call upon you, as a magistrate, to execute your 
 warrant." 
 
 " Plague take it, Ned ! " cried the squire, " I 
 would that my clerk Johnson were here, for I 
 would deal as kindly by you as the law allows, 
 and yet I am, as you hear, called upon to secure 
 your person." 
 
 " Permit me to suggest, sir," said my uncle, 
 "that so long' as he is under the personal super- 
 vision of the magistrate he may be said to be 
 under the care of the law, and that this condition 
 will be fulfilled if he is under the roof of Rougham 
 Grange." 
 
 " Nothing could be better," cried the squire, 
 heartily. — " You will stay with me, Ned, until 
 this matter blows over. In other words, Lord 
 Avon, I make myself responsible as the repre- 
 sentative of the law that you are held in safe 
 custody until your person may be required of 
 me." 
 
 " Yours is a true heart, James." 
 
394 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! it is the due process of the law. — I 
 trust, Sir Lothian Hume, that you find nothing to 
 object to in it." 
 
 Sir Lothian shrugged his shoulders and looked 
 blackly at the magistrate. Then he turned to my 
 uncle. 
 
 " There is a small matter still open between 
 us," said he. " Would you kindly give me the 
 name of a friend? Mr. Corcoran, who is outside 
 in my barouche, would act for me, and we might 
 meet to-morrow morning." 
 
 " With pleasure," answered my uncle. — " I 
 dare say your father would act for me, nephew. 
 — Your friend may call upon Lieutenant Stone, 
 of Friar's Oak, and the sooner the better." 
 
 And so this strange conference ended. As for 
 me, I had sprung to the side of the old friend of 
 my boyhood, and was trying to tell him my joy 
 at his good fortune, and listening to his assurance 
 that nothing that could ever befall him could 
 weaken the love that he bore me. My uncle 
 touched me on the shoulder, and we were about 
 to leave, when Ambrose, whose bronze mask had 
 been drawn down once more over his fiery pas- 
 sions, came demurely toward him. 
 
 " Beg your pardon. Sir Charles," said he, " but 
 it shocks me very much to see your cravat." 
 
 " You are right, Ambrose," my uncle an- 
 
THE VALET'S STORY. 
 
 395 
 
 swered. " Lorimer does his best, but I have 
 never been able to fill your place." 
 
 " Lord Avon has the prior claim. If he will 
 release me " 
 
 " You may go, Ambrose, you may go ! " cried 
 Lord Avon. " You are an excellent servant, but 
 your presence has become painful to me." 
 
 " Thank you, Ned," said my uncle. " C'est le 
 meilleur valet possible. But you must not leave 
 me so suddenly again." 
 
 " Permit me to explain the reason, sir. I had 
 determined to give you notice when we reached 
 Brighton, but as we drove from the village that 
 day I caught a glimpse of a lady passing in a 
 phaeton, between whom and Lord Avon I was 
 well aware that there was a close intimacy, 
 although I was not certain that she was actually 
 his wife. Her presence there confirmed me in 
 my opinion that he was in hiding at Cliffe Royal, 
 and I dropped from your curricle and followed 
 her at once in order to lay the matter before her, 
 and explain how very necessary it was that Lord 
 Avon should see me." 
 
 " Well, I forgive you for your desertion, Am- 
 brose," said my uncle. "And," he added, "I 
 should be vastly obliged to you if you would re- 
 arrange my tie." 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Sir James Ovington's carriage was waiting 
 without, and in it the Avon family, so tragically 
 separated and so strangely reunited, were borne 
 away to the squire's hospitable home. When 
 they had gone, my uncle mounted his curricle and 
 drove Ambrose and myself to the village. 
 
 " We had best see your father at once, nephew," 
 said he. " Sir Lothian and his man started some 
 time ago. I should be sorry if there were any 
 hitch in our meeting." 
 
 For my part I was thinking of our opponent's 
 deadly reputation as a duellist, and I suppose 
 that my features must have betrayed my feelings, 
 for my uncle began to laugh. 
 
 "Why, nephew," said he, "you look as if you 
 
 were walking behind my coffin ! It is not my 
 
 first affair, and I dare bet that it will not be my 
 
 last. When I fight near town I usually fire a 
 
 hundred or so in Manton's back shop, but I dare 
 
 396 
 
THE END. , 397 
 
 say I can find my way to his waistcoat. But I 
 confess that I am somewhat accabl6 by all that 
 has befallen us. To think of my dear old friend 
 being not only alive, but innocent as well ! And 
 that he should have such a strapping son and heir 
 to carrj- on the race of Avon ! This will be the 
 last blow to Hume, for I know that the Jews have 
 given him rope on the score of his expectations. 
 — And you, Ambrose, that you should break out 
 in such a way ! " 
 
 Of all the amazing things which had happened 
 this seemed to have impressed my uncle most, 
 and he recurred to it again and again. That a 
 man whom he had come to regard as a machine 
 for tying cravats and brewing chocolate should 
 suddenly develop fiery human passions was' in- 
 deed a prodigy. If his silver razor-heater had 
 taken to evil ways he could not have been more 
 astounded. 
 
 We were still a hundred yards from the cot- 
 tage, when I saw the tall, green-coated Mr. Cor- 
 coran striding down the garden path. My father 
 was waiting for us at the door, with an expression 
 of subdued delight upon his face. 
 
 " Happy to serve you in any way, Sir 
 Charles," said he. " We've arranged it for to- 
 morrow at seven on Ditchling Common." 
 
 " I wish these things could be brought off a 
 
398 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 little later in the day," said my uncle. " One has 
 either to rise at a perfectly absurd hour, or else 
 to neglect one's toilet. 
 
 " They are stopping across the road at the 
 Friar's Oak Inn, and if you would wish it 
 later " 
 
 " No, no, I shall make the effort. — Ambrose, 
 you will bring up the batterie de toilette at five." 
 
 " I don't know whether you would care to use 
 my barkers," said my father. " I've had 'em in 
 fourteen actions, and up to thirty yards you 
 wouldn't wish a better tool." 
 
 " Thank you, I have my duelling pistols under 
 the seat. — See that the triggers are oiled, Am- 
 brose, for I love a light pull. — Ah, sister Mary, I 
 have brought your boy back to you — none the 
 worse, I trust, for the dissipations of town." 
 
 I need not tell you how my dear mother wept 
 over me and fondled me, for you who have 
 mothers will know for yourselves, and you who 
 have not will never understand how warm and 
 snug the home nest can be. How I had chafed 
 and longed for the wonders of town, and yet, now 
 that I had seen more than my wildest dreams had 
 ever deemed possible, my eyes had rested upon 
 nothing which was so sweet and so restful as our 
 own little sitting room with its terra-cotta-coloured 
 wall, and those trifles which are so insignificant in 
 
THE END. 3gp 
 
 themselves and yet so rich in memories, the blow- 
 fish from Moluccas, the narwhal's horn from the 
 arctic, and the picture of the Qa. Ira with Lord 
 Hotham in chase ! How cheery, too, to see at 
 one side of the shining grate my father with his 
 pipe and his merry red face, and on the other my 
 mother with her fingers ever turning and darting 
 with her knitting needles ! As I looked at them 
 I marvelled that I could ever have longed to 
 leave them, or that I could bring myself to leave 
 them again. 
 
 But leave them I must, and that speedily, 
 as I learned amid the boisterous congratula- 
 tions -of my father and the tears of my 
 mother. He had himself been appointed to 
 the Cato sixty-four, with post rank, while a 
 note had come from Lord Nelson at Ports- 
 mouth to say that a vacancy was open for 
 me if I should present myself at once. 
 
 " And your mother has your sea-chest all 
 ready, my lad, and you can travel down with 
 me to-morrow, for if you are to be one of 
 Nelson's men you must show him that you 
 are worthy of it." 
 
 " All the Stones have been in the sea ser- 
 vice," said my mother, apologetically to my 
 uncle, " and it is a great chance that he 
 should enter under Lord Nelson's own patron- 
 
400 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 age. But we can never forget your kindness, 
 Charles, in showing our dear Rodney some- 
 thing of the world." 
 
 " On the contrary, sister Mary," said my 
 uncle graciously, " your . son has been an ex- 
 cellent companion to me — so much so that I 
 fear that I am open to the charge of having ne- 
 glected my dear Fidelio. I trust that I bring 
 him back somewhat more polished than I found 
 him. It would be folly to call him distingue, 
 but he is at least unobjectionable. Nature has 
 denied him the highest gifts, and I find him 
 adverse to employing the compensating advan- 
 tages of art, but at least I have shown him 
 something of life, and I have taught him a 
 few lessons in finesse and deportment, which 
 may appear to be wasted upon him at present, 
 but which none the less may come back to 
 him in his more mature years. If his career 
 in town has been a disappointment to me the 
 reason lies mainly in the fact that I am fool- 
 ish enough to measure others by the standard 
 which I have myself set. I am well disposed 
 toward him, however, and I consider him 
 eminently adapted for the profession which he 
 is about to adopt." 
 
 He held out his sacred snuffbox to me as 
 he spoke, as a solemn pledge of his good 
 
THE END. 
 
 401 
 
 will, and, as I look back at him, there is no 
 moment at which I see him more plainly 
 than that, with the old mischievous light danc- 
 ing once more in his large, intolerant eyes, one 
 thumb in the armpit of his vest and the little 
 shining box held out upon his snow-white palm. 
 He was a type and leader of a strange breed 
 of men which has vanished away from Eng- 
 land, the full-blooded, virile buck, exquisite in 
 his dress, narrow in his thoughts, coarse in 
 his amusements, and eccentric in his habits. 
 They walk across the bright stage of English 
 history with their finicky step, their prepos- 
 terous cravats, their high collars, their dan- 
 gling seals, and they vanish into those dark 
 wings from which there is no return. The 
 world has outgrown them, and there is no 
 place now for their strange fashions, their 
 practical jokes and carefully cultivated eccen- 
 tricities. And yet behind this outer veiling 
 of folly with which they so carefully draped 
 themselves they were often men of strong 
 character and robust personality. 
 
 The languid loungers of St. James's were 
 also the yachtsmen of the Solent, the fine 
 riders of the shires, and the hardy fighters in 
 many a wayside battle and many a morning 
 frolic. Wellington picked his best ofBcers 
 
402 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 from among them. They condescended occa- 
 sionally to poetry or oratory, and Byron, 
 Charles James Fox, Sheridan, and Castlereagh 
 preserved some reputation among them in 
 spite of their publicity. I can not think how 
 the historian of the future can hope to under- 
 stand them when I who knew one of them so 
 well, and bore his blood in my veins, could 
 never quite tell how much of him was real 
 and how much was due to the affectations 
 which he had cultivated so long that they had 
 ceased to deserve the name. Through the 
 chinks of that armour of folly I have some- 
 times thought that I had caught a glimpse of 
 a good and true man within, and it pleases 
 me to hope that I was right. 
 
 It was destined that the exciting incidents 
 of that day were even now not at an end. I 
 had retired early to rest, but it was impossible 
 for me to sleep, for my mind would turn to 
 Boy Jim, and to the extraordinary change in 
 his position and prospects. I was still turning 
 and tossing, when I heard the sound of flying 
 hoofs coming down the London road, and im- 
 mediately afterward the grating of wheels as 
 they pulled up in front of the inn. My win- 
 dow chanced to be open, for it was a fresh 
 spring night, and I heard the creak of the 
 
THE END. 
 
 403 
 
 inn door, and a voice asking whether Sir 
 Lothian Hume was within. At the name I 
 sprang from my bed, and I was in time to 
 see three men, who had alighted from the 
 carriage, file into the lighted hall. The two 
 horses were left standing, with the glare of 
 the open door falling upon their brown shoul- 
 ders and patient heads. 
 
 Ten minutes may have passed, and then I 
 heard the clatter of many steps, and a knot of 
 men came clustering through the door. 
 
 " You need not employ violence," said a harsh, 
 clear voice. " On whose suit is it ? " 
 
 " Several suits, sir. They 'eld over in the 
 'opes that you'd pull off the fight this mornin'. 
 Total amounts is twelve thousand pounds." 
 
 " Look here, my man ! I have a very impor- 
 tant appointment for seven o'clock to-morrow. 
 I'll give you fifty pounds if you will leave me 
 until then." 
 
 " Couldn't do it, sir, really. It's more than 
 our places as sheriff's officers is worth." 
 
 In the yellow glare of the carriage lamp I saw 
 the baronet look up at our windows, and if hatred 
 could have killed, his eye would have been as 
 deadly as his pistol. 
 
 " I can't mount the carriage unless you free 
 my hands," said he. 
 
404 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 " 'Old 'ard, Bill, for 'e looks wicious. Let go 
 o' one arm at a time ! Ah, would you then ! " 
 
 " Corcoran ! Corcoran !•" screamed a voice, 
 and I saw a plunge, a struggle, and one frantic 
 figure breaking its way from the rest. Then 
 came a heavy blow, and down he fell in the 
 middle of the moonlit road flapping and jumping 
 among the dust like a trout new landed. 
 
 " He's napped it this time ! Get 'im by the 
 wrists, Jim ! Now, all together ! " He was 
 hoisted up like a bag of flour and fell with a 
 brutal thud into the bottom of the carriage. The 
 three men sprang in after him, a whip whistled in 
 the darkness, and I had seen the last that I or 
 any one else, save some charitable visitor to a 
 debtor's jail, was ever again destined to see of Sir- 
 Lothian Hume, the once fashionable Corinthian. 
 
 Lord Avon lived for two years longer — long 
 enough, with the help of Ambrose, to fully estab- 
 lish his innocence of the horrible crime in the 
 shadow of which he had lived so long. What he 
 could not clear away, however, was the effect of 
 those years of morbid and unnatural life spent in 
 the hidden chambers of the old house, and it was 
 only the devotion of his wife and of his son which 
 kept the thin and flickering flame of his life so 
 long alight. She whom I had known as the play 
 actress of Anstey Cross became the dowager Lady 
 
THE END. 405 
 
 Avon, while Boy Jim, as dear to me now as when 
 we harried birds' nests and tickled trout together, 
 is now Lord Avon, -beloved by his tenantry, the 
 finest sportsman and the most popular man from 
 the north of The Weald to the Channel. He was 
 married to the second daughter of Sir James 
 Ovington, and as I have seen three of his grand- 
 children within the week, I fancy that if any of 
 Sir Lothian's descendants have their eye upon the 
 property they are likely to be as disappointed as 
 their ancestor was before them. 
 
 The old house of Clifle Roj'al has been pulled 
 down, owing to the terrible family associations 
 which hung round it, and a beautiful modern 
 building sprang up in its place. The lodge which 
 stood by the Brighton road was so dainty with its 
 trellis work and its rosebushes that I was not the 
 only visitor who declared that I had rather be the 
 owner of it than of the great house among the 
 trees. There, for many years, in a happy and 
 peaceful old age, lived Jack Harrison and his 
 wife, receiving back in the sunset of their lives 
 the loving qare which they had themselves be- 
 stowed. Never again did champion Harrison 
 throw his leg over the ropes of a twenty-four-foot 
 ring, but the story of the great battle between the 
 smith and the west countryman is still familiar to 
 old ring-goers; and nothing pleased him better 
 
4o6 
 
 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 than to refight it all, round by round, as he sat in 
 the sunshine under his rose-girt porch. But, if 
 he heard the tap of his wife's stick approaching 
 him, his talk would break off at once into the gar- 
 den and its prospects, for she was still haunted by 
 the fear that he would some day go back to the 
 ring, and she never missed the old man for an 
 hour without being convinced that he had hobbled 
 off to wrest the belt from the latest upstart cham- 
 pion. It was at his own very earnest request 
 that they inscribed " He fought the good fight " 
 upon his tombstone, and though I can not doubt 
 that he had Black Baruk and Crab Wilson in his 
 mind when he asked it, yet none who knew him 
 would grudge its spiritual meaning as a summing 
 up of his clean and manly life. 
 
 Sir Charles Tregellis continued for some 
 years to show his scarlet and gold at New- 
 market and his inimitable coats in St. James's. 
 It was he who invented buttons and loops at 
 the ends of dress pantaloons, and who broke 
 fresh ground by his investigation of the com- 
 parative merits of isinglass and of starch in 
 the preparation of shirt fronts. There are old 
 fops still lurking in the corners of Arthur's 
 or of White's who can remember Tregellis's 
 dictum that a cravat should be so stiffened 
 that three parts of the length should be raised 
 
THE END. 407 
 
 by one corner, and the painful schism which 
 followed when Lord Alvanley and his school 
 contended that a half was suf3&cient. 
 
 Then came the supremacy of Brummel and 
 the open breach upon the subject of velvet 
 collars in which the town followed the lead 
 of the younger man. My uncle, who was not 
 born to be second to any one, retired instantly 
 to St. Albans, and announced that he would 
 make it the centre of fashion and of society 
 instead of degenerate London. It chanced, 
 however, that the mayor and corporation 
 waited upon him with an address of thanks 
 for his good intentions toward the town, and 
 that the burgesses, having ordered new coats 
 from London for the occasion, were all arrayed 
 in velvet collars, which so preyed upon my 
 uncle's spirits that he took to his bed, and 
 never showed his face in public again. His 
 money, which had ruined what might have 
 been a great life, was divided among many 
 bequests, an annuity to his valet, Ambrose, 
 being among them, but enough has come to 
 his sister, my dear mother, to help to make 
 her old age as sunny and as pleasant as even 
 I could wish. 
 
 And as for me — the poor string upon which 
 
 these beads are strung — I dare scarce say an- 
 27 
 
4o8 RODNEY STONE. 
 
 Other word about myself lest this which I had 
 meant to be the last word of a chapter should 
 grow into the first words of a new one. Had 
 I not taken up my pen to tell you a story of 
 the land I might perchance have made a bet- 
 ter one of the sea, but the one frame can not 
 hold two opposite pictures. The day may 
 come when I shall write down all that I re- 
 member of the greatest battle ever fought 
 upon salt water, and how my father's gallant 
 life was brought to an end as with his paint 
 rubbing against a French eighty-gun ship on 
 one side and a Spanish seventy-four upon the 
 other, he stood eating an apple in the break 
 of his poop. I saw the smoke banks on that 
 October evening swirl slowly up over the At- 
 lantic swell and rise and rise until the}' had 
 shredded into thinnest air and lost themselves 
 in the infinite blue of heaven. And with them 
 ros'e the cloud which had hung over our coun- 
 try, and it also thinned and thinned until God's 
 own sun of peace and security was shining once 
 more upon us, never more we hope to be be- 
 dimmed. 
 
 THE END. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO/S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 RuDYARD Kipling's New Book. 
 
 T 
 
 HE SEVEN SEAS. 
 
 A new volume of poems by 
 RuDYARD Kipling, autlior of 
 " Many Inventions," " Bar- 
 rack-Room Ballads," etc. 
 i2mo, cloth, special binding, 
 $1.50. 
 
 The appearance of a new volume by- 
 Mr. Kipling: has come to be regarded as 
 a literary event. Tliis new book is one 
 of special importance, in that it repre- 
 sents in an admirable and conclusive 
 manner not only the verse of the sol- 
 ditr's life, but also poetry of adventure 
 and of the sea, and of a modern field, 
 RUDYARD KiPLiNG. ^^ ^^ termed roughly the romance of 
 
 applied science, which Mr. Kipling has 
 made his own. His work as the poet of the British Army, introducing, as 
 it did, a new strain into the metrical outpourings of our time, has maae an 
 impression throughout the English-spealcing world which will be dcefencd 
 by the verse to come in this new book. His latest field Imd-s an apt illustra- 
 tion in that strenuous and remarkable achievement, " McAndrew's Hymn.' 
 Here t1ie realist and romanticist unite. To the old Scotch engineer, an uncon- 
 scious pantheist, each part of his engine is not only alive but also a personi- 
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 ship engine, or the locomotive enji^ine, or any other high expression of 
 matter animated by mind, is a theme for modem poetry, so imposing, so 
 suggestive, and so direct that it is only strange the poets have given so little 
 thought to the significance and power of the mobt characteristic products of 
 their age. 
 
 Our own time has furnished no better proofs of the poet's illuminating 
 and quickening power than Mr. Kipling's splendid interpretation of colonial 
 patriotism in "The Native Born," his apotheosis of the sea pow?r in poems 
 like "The Flag of England," "The Bohvar," and "The Camperdo'vn," 
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 have the sonorous roll of " The Last Chantey," and the tinkle of the " Seng 
 of the Banjo." The public have been prompt to feel the grasp and swing 
 of Mr. Kipling's verse. He offers no veneered imitations of old French 
 forms of love poetry, nor does he laboriously hammer agnostic prose spec- 
 ulations into the form of verse. What he says is aiive. His utterances are 
 vivid and spontaneous, and many a jaded reader has put up a thanksgiving 
 for his fire and force. In this new book of verses the qualities which have 
 distinguished the author are shown in a riper and fuller development than 
 ever before, and for this reason, and also on account of his range of themes, 
 it seems proper to invite special attention to the coming volume. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO/S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 n^HE LITTLE REGIMENT,, and Other Episodes 
 
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 In these studies of the theme which he treated with such power in " The Red Badge 
 of Courage " Mr. Crane shows a gain in strength and in command of his material which 
 indicates for the companion volume of "The Red Badge" an equal if not a greater 
 success. This book completes the story of " The Red Badge's " hero. 
 
 Ji^ AGGIE: A GIRL OF THE STREETS, 
 ■^ '-*■ i2mo. Cloth, 75 cents. 
 
 ** By writing * Maggie ' Mr. Crane has made for himself a permanent place in lit- 
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 " Mr. Crane's story should be read for the fidelity with which it portrays a life 
 that is potent on this island, along with the best of us. It is a powerful portrayal, and, 
 if somber and repellent, none the less true, none the less freighted with appeal to 
 those who are able to assist in righting wrongs." — Neio York Tmies. 
 
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 "J^HE RED BADGE OF COURAGE. An Episode 
 
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 nothing better in this line." — Chicago Evening Post. 
 
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 in its own peculiar way, inimitable." — Boston Beacon. 
 
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 in its grasp." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
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 we read. . . . Tbe book has deeply interested us, and even thrilled us more than 
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 . . . of bold conception and vigorous treatment. . . . A very noteworthy novelette." — 
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 'The Seats of the Mighty/ and bis readers are to be congratulated on the direction- 
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 possessing historical interest, but charming as a story. A delightful piece of literature, 
 of a rare and exquisite flavor.'* — Buffalo Express. 
 
 "No more forcible presentation of the wrongs which the poorer classes suffered in 
 France at the end of the eighteenth century has ever been put between the covers of a 
 book." — Boston Budget, 
 
 " Every page is alive with incidents or scenes of the time, and anyone who reads 
 it will get a vivid picture that can never be forgotten of the Reign of Terror in Paris," 
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 i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
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 threshold of a great career, but already within the temple of fame." — G. W. Smalley, 
 in the Tribune. 
 
 " Here is the sweetness of a live love story. ... It is to be reckoned among the 
 brilliants as a novel." — Boston Courier. 
 
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 and literary charm." — Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 " Clever and cynical, full of epigrams and wit, bright with keen delineations of 
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 of high rank in current fiction." — Boston Beacon. 
 
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 truth to Nature." — Boston Courier. 
 
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 populated spot on the face of the earth— the ghetto of the metropolis, rather the me- 
 tropolis of the ghettos of the world."— iV<?M; York Journal. 
 
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 the audior depicts with marvelous %yiQccs,%." —Boston Transcript. 
 
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 ghetto life in New York." — Minneapolis Journal. 
 
 "A strong, quaint story." — Detroit Tribune. 
 
 " Every feature of the book bears the stamp of truth. . . . Undoubtedly 'Yekl' 
 has never been excelled as a picture of the distinctive life of the New York ghetto." — 
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 in a cleveriy flippant way, which keeps the reader on the qui vive for the cynical but 
 bright sayings she has interspersed." — Detroit Free Press. 
 
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 cleverly wrought out." — Philadelphia Evening Bulletin, 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
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 $1.50. 
 
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 Chronicle. 
 
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 books." — Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
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 and the life of diamonds to be caught and held palpitating in expression's grasp." 
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 its genial humor, artistic local coloring, and admirable portrayal of character." — 
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 charm of manner." — Minneapolis Tribune, 
 
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 HE LILAC SUNBONNET Sixth edition. 
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 kind, with a pure-minded, sound-hearted hero, and a heroine who is merely a good 
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 year, it has escaped our notice." — New York Times. 
 
 "The general conception of the story, the motive of which is the growth of love 
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 idyl— the story of love and courtship and marriage of a fine young man and a lovely 
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 humor, such delicate fancy, such true and sympathetic feeling, that nothing more could 
 be desired." — Boston Traveller. 
 
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 interest" — Philadelphia Record. 
 
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 stand with Ian Maclaren's." — British Weekly. 
 
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D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 *' A better book than * The Prisoner of Zenda.' *' — London. Queen. 
 
 "J^HE CHRONICLES OF COUNT ANTONIO. 
 
 ^ By Anthony Hope, author of "The God in the Car," " The 
 Prisoner of Zenda," etc. With photogravure Frontispiece by 
 S. W. Van Schaick. Third edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " No adventures were ever better worth recounting than are those of Antonio of 
 Monte Velluto, a very Bayard among outlaws. ... To all those whose pulses still stir 
 at the recital of deeds of high courage, we may recommend this book. . . The chron- 
 icle conveys the emotion of heroic adventure, and is picturesquely written." — London 
 Daily News. 
 
 " It has literary merits all its own, of a deliberate and rgither deep order. ... In 
 point of execution 'The Chronicles of Count Antonio ' is the best work that Mr. Hope 
 has yet done. The design is clearer, the workmanship more elaborate, the style more 
 colored. . . . The incidents are most ingenious, they are told quietly, but with great 
 cunning, and the Quixotic sentiment which pervades it all is exceedingly pleasant."— 
 Westminster Gazette. 
 
 "A romance worthy of all the expectations raised by the briUiancy of his former 
 books, and likely to be read with a keen enjoyment and a healthy exaltation of the 
 spirits by every one who takes it up." — 7%e Scotsman. 
 
 *' A gallant tale, written with unfailing treshness and spirit." — London Daily 
 Telegraph. 
 
 " One of the most fascinating romances written in English within many days. The 
 quaint simplicity of its stjle is delightful, and the adventures recorded in these 'Chron- 
 icles of Count Antonio/ are as stirring and ingenious as any conceived even by Wey- 
 man at his best." — Neiv York World. 
 
 "Romance of the real flavor, wholly and entirely romance, and narrated in true ro- 
 manric style. The characters, drawn with such masterly handling, are not merely pic- 
 tures and portraits, but statues that are alive and step boldly forward from the canvas." 
 ■ — Boston Courier, 
 
 " Told in a wonderfully simple and direct style, and with the magic touch of a man 
 who has the genius of narrative, making the varied incidents flow naturally and rapidly 
 in a stream of sparkling discourse."— Z?^^r«'/ Tribune. 
 
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 graphic, and compels the interest of the most ^/(m/ novel reader." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 *' No adventures were ever better worth telling than those of Count Antonio. . . , 
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 under the spell of his magic." — Boston Herald. 
 
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 knightly fervor. ... In ' Count Antonio ' we think Mr. Hope surpasses himself, as he 
 has already surpassed all the other story-tellers of the period." — New York Spirit oj 
 the Times. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO.. 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
T. 
 
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 NOVELS BY HALL CAINE. 
 HE MANXMAN. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 "A story of marvelous dramatic intensity, and in its ethical meaning has a force 
 comparable only to Hawthorne's ' Scarlet Letter/ " — Boston Beacon. 
 
 "A work of power which is another stone added to the foundation of enduring Came 
 to which Mr. Caine is yearly adding." — Public Opinion. 
 
 "A wonderfully strong study of character; a powerful analysis of those elements 
 which go to make up the strength and weakness of a man, which are at fierce warfare 
 within the same breast; contending against each other, as it were, the one to raise him 
 to fame and power, the other to drag him down 10 degradation and shame. Never in 
 the whole range of Uteratiu-e have we seen the struggle between these forces for 
 supremacy over the man more powerfully, more realistically delineated than Mr. Caine 
 pictures it," — Boston Home Journal. 
 
 y^HE DEEMSTER. A Romance of ihe Isle of 
 -* Man. i2ino. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 *' Hall Caine has already given us some very strong and fine work, and * The 
 Deemster' is a story of unusual power. , . . Certain passases and chapters have an 
 intensely dramatic grasp, and hold the fascinated reader with a force rarely excited 
 nowadays in literature." — The Critic. 
 
 " One of the strongest novels which has appeared in many a day." — San J^ran~ 
 Cisco Ckronicle. 
 
 " Fascinates the mind like the gathering and bursting of a storm," — Illustrated 
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 ** Deserves to be ranked among the remarkable novels of the day," — Chicago 
 Times. 
 
 'J^HE BONDMAN, New edition. i2mo. Cloth, 
 -* $1.50. 
 
 **The welcome given to this stor>' has cheered and touched me, but I am con- 
 scious that, to win a reception so warm, such a book must have had readers who 
 brought to it as much as they took away. ... I have called my story a saga, merely 
 because it follows the epic method, and I must not claim for it at any point the weighty 
 responsibility of history, or serious obligations to the world of fact. But it matters not 
 to me what Icelanders may call ' The Bondman,' if they will honor me by reading it in 
 the open-hearted spirit and with the firee mind with which they are content to read of 
 Grettir and of his fights with the Troll." — From the Author's Pre/ace, 
 
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 'APT'N DAVY'S HONEYMOON, A Manx 
 
 Yam. i2ino. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00, 
 
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 as though Mr, Hall Caine would be one of the exceptions." — Lotuion Literary 
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 story like this. ... It shows the same observation of Manx character, and much of 
 the same artistic skill." — Philadelphia TiTnes, 
 
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 "Until the Appletons discovered the merits of Maarten Maartens, the foremost oJ' 
 Dutch novelists, it is doubtful if many American readers knew that there were Dufcth 
 novelists. His ' God's Fool' and * Joost Avelingh* made for him an American reputa- 
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 epigram, an artist in description, a prophet in insight." — Boston Advertiser, 
 
 " It would take several columns to give any adequate idea of the superb way in 
 which the Dutch novelist has developed his theme and wrought out one of the most 
 impressive stories of the period. ... It belongs to the small class of novels which 
 pne can not afford to neglect." — San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
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 (day in intellectual subtiety and imaginative power." — Boston Beacon* 
 
 /^OnS FOOL, By Maarten Maartens. i2mo. 
 
 ^ Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " Throughout there is an epigrammatic force which would make palatable a less 
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 is undeniable." — London Chronicle. 
 
 "A remarkable work." — New York Times. 
 
 "Maarten Maartens has secured a firm footing in the eddies of current literature. 
 . . . Pathos deepens into tragedy in the thrilling story of ' God's Fool.' " — Fhiladel 
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 " Its preface alone stamps the author as one of the leading English novelists of 
 to-day." — Boston Daily Advertiser. 
 
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 ... It is, in short, a book which no student of modern literature should fail to read." 
 — Boston Times. 
 
 " A story of remarkable interest and point." — New York Observer, 
 
 7 
 
 VOST AVELINGH. By Maarten Maartens. 
 
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 literature of fiction may soon become more general among us." — London Momifig 
 Post. 
 
 " In scarcely any of the sensational novels of the day will the reader find more 
 nature or more human nature." — London Standard. 
 
 *' A novel ofa very high type. At once strongly realistic and powerfully ideal- 
 istic" — London Literary World. 
 
 " Full of local color and rich in quaint phraseology and suggestion." — London 
 telegraph. 
 
 " Maarten Maartens is a capital story-teller." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
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 coast which has barely been skimmed over so far. That the conditions of life therein 
 are undergoing changes iiltle short of marvelous will be understood when one recalls 
 the fact that the first white male child born in Kansas is still living there; and Kansas 
 is by no means one of the newer States. Revolutionary indeed has been the upturning 
 of the old condition of affairs, and little remains thereof, and less will remain as each 
 year goes by, until presently there will be only tradition of the Sioux and Comanches, 
 the cowboy life, the wild horse, and the antelope. Histories, many of them, have been 
 written about the Western country alluded to, but most if not practically all by outsiders 
 who knew not personally that life of kaleidoscopic allurement. But ere it shall lave 
 vanished forever we are likely to have truthful, complete, and charming portrayals of 
 it produced by men who actually knew the life and have the power to describe it." — 
 Henry Edward Rood^in the Mail and Express. 
 
 T 
 
 NOW READY. 
 
 HE STOR Y OF THE INDIAN. By George 
 
 Bird Grinnell, author of " Pawnee Hero«Stories/' " Blackfoot 
 Lodge Tales," etc. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 " In every way worthy of an author who, as an authority upon the Western Indians, 
 is second to none. A book full of color, abounding in observation, and remarkable in 
 sustained interest, it is at the same time characterized by a grace of style which is rarely 
 to be looked for in such a work, and which adds not a little to the charm of it." — Lon^ 
 don. Daily Chronicle. 
 
 *' Only an author qualified by personal experience could offer us a profitable study 
 of a race so alien from our own as is the Indian in thought, feeling, and culture. Only 
 long association with Indians can enable a white man measurably to comprehend their 
 thoughts and enter into their feelings. Such association has been Mr. Grinnell's.— 
 New York Sun. 
 
 T 
 
 HE STORY OF THE MINE. By Charles 
 Howard Shinn. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
 
 The figfures of the prospector and the miner are clearly outlined in the 
 course of the romantic story of that mine which more than any other em- 
 bodies the romance, the vicissitudes, the triumphs, the excitement, and the 
 science of mining life — the Great Corastock Lode. From the prospector, 
 through development and deep-mining, to the last of the stock gambling, 
 the story is told in a way that presents a singularly vivid and engrossing 
 picture of a life which has played so large a part in the development of^ 
 the remoter West. 
 
 /JV PREPARATION. 
 
 The Story of the Trapper. By Gilbert Parker. 
 
 The Story of the Cowboy. By E. Hough. 
 
 The Story of the Soldier. By Capt. J. McB. Stembel, U. S. A. 
 
 The Story of the Explorer. 
 
 The Story of the Railroad. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 y^HE BEGINNERS OF A NATION. A History 
 ■'■ of the Source and Rise of the Earliest English Settlements in 
 America, with Special Reference to the Life and Character of 
 the People. The first volume in A History of Life in the 
 United States. By Edward Eggleston. Small 8vo. Cloth, 
 gilt top, uncut, with Maps, $1.50. 
 It is nearly seventeen years since the studies for this book were beg;un. 
 In January, 1880, having decided to write a History of Life in the United 
 States, Mr. Eggleston employed himself during convalescence in seeking 
 books bearing on the subject on all the quays of Paris. From that begin- 
 ning has grown the large and valuable collection of many thousand books 
 relating to American history, and to social, industrial, and intellectual life 
 generally in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, which fill the walls 
 of a stone library building on Lake George. Mr. Eggleston has produced, 
 in the years since that beginning was made, two novels and several school- 
 books on American history, now vridely used ; but eleven of the last seven- 
 teen years have been wholly given up to investigations and studies which 
 find their first permanent result in the present volume. Thirteen articles en 
 Colonial Life were contributed to the Century Magazine by the author be- 
 tween 1882 and 1889. They were recognized at once as authority on the 
 subject, were quoted in learned works, were discussed by at least one scholar 
 in a German periodical, were placed in class libraries in leading institutions 
 of learning, and were cited by a well-known professor as " the only author- 
 ity on colonial life to be depended on." Mr. Eggleston was importuned to 
 gather them into a book, but his project had grown with his knowledge of 
 the subject, and he has given himself of late years to produce on an entirely 
 new plan the first of a series of volumes, each to be complete in itself, which 
 as a whole shall represent the life of the people of the United States in the 
 seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In order to do this, it has been neces- 
 sary not only to prosecute studies in most of the great public libraries of this 
 country, but also to make repeated sojourns in Europe for the purpose of 
 investigations in the British Museum and the State Paper Department of the 
 Record Office, and the French National Library. Mr. Eggleston gained 
 access also to papers not before used in private repositories in England and 
 America. To get local color and additional information, he has visited all 
 of the, original thirteen colonies. The first installment of this historical series 
 is thus the ripe fruit of many years of tireless investigation. The book has 
 been wrought out and thought out thoroughly, and the initial stage of United 
 States history is presented here in a light strangely different from that to 
 which readers of history have been accustomed. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 T JNCLE REMUS. His Songs and his Sayings, By 
 ^■^ Joel Chandler Harris. With new Preface and Revisions, 
 and 112 Illustrations by A. B. Frost. Library Edition, i2ino. 
 Buckram, gilt top, uncut, $2.00. Also, Edition de luxe of the 
 above, limited to 250 copies, each signed by the author, with 
 the full-page cuts mounted on India paper. 8vo. "White vel-. 
 lum, gilt top, $10.00. 
 
 "The old tales of the plantation have never been told as Mr. Harris has told them. 
 Each narrative is to die point, and so swift in its action upon the risibilities of the 
 reader that one almost loses consciousness of the printed page, and fancies it is the 
 voice of the lovable old darky himself that Steals across the senses and brings mirth 
 inextinguishable as it comes; . . . and Mr. Frost's drawings are so superlatively good, 
 so inexpressibly funny, that they promise to make this the standard edition of a stand- 
 ard book." — New York Tribune. 
 
 "An exquisite volume, full of good illustrations, rnd if there is anybody in this 
 country who doesn't know Mr. Harris, here is an opportunity to make his acquaint- 
 ance and have many a good laugh."— i^tfw York Herald. 
 
 *' There is but one ' Uncle Remus,' and he will never grow old. ... It was a 
 happy thought, that of marrying the work of Harris and Frost." — New York Mail 
 and Express. 
 
 " Nobody could possibly have done this work better than Mr. Frost, whose appre- 
 ciation of negfo life fitted him especially to be the interpreter of ' Uncle Remus,' and 
 whose sense of the humor in animal life makes these drawings really illustrations in the 
 fullest sense. Mr. Harris's well-known work has become in a sense a classic, and this 
 may be accepted as the standard edition. " — Philadelphia Times. 
 
 "A book which became a classic almost as soon as it was published. . . . Mr. Frost 
 has never done anything better in the way of illustration, if indeed he has done any- 
 thing as good." — Boston Advertiser. 
 
 " We pity the reader who has not yet made the acquaintance of * Uncle Remus ' 
 and his charming story. . . . Mr. Harris has made a real addition to Hterature purely 
 and strikingly American, and Mr. Frost has aided in fixing the work indelibly on the 
 consciousness of the American reader." — Th£ Churchman. 
 
 "The old fancies of the old ntfgro. dear as they may have been to us these man^ 
 years, seem to gain new life when they appear through the medium of Mr. Frost s 
 imagination." — New York Home yournat. 
 
 " In his own peculiar field 'Uncle Remus' has no rival. The book has become a 
 classic, but the latest edition is the choice one. It is rarely piven to an^ author to see 
 his work accompanied by pictures so closely in sympathy with his text. —Sa7i Fran- 
 cisco A rgonaut, 
 
 "We say it with the utmost faith that there is not an artist who works in illustra- 
 tion that can catch the attitude and expression, the slyness, the innate depravity, the 
 eye of surprise, obstinacy, the hang of the head or the kick of the heels of the mute and 
 the brute creation as Mr. Frost has shown to us here." — Baltimore Su?i. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue.