The Welsh Coast Pioneer and Review for North Cambria

1 CONDEMNED AS A TRAITOR, BT SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY; BART. [dttfhor of" The Red Chancellor," A Prince of Zoveri," l'he Fall of a Slar," Ie.). CnAFTER XVII. THE PRISONER AT RLSCOTT. The room which formed Geoffrey's prison at Euscobt, whether tmik with that idea or not, was admirably adapted for the purpose. A lofty apartment of moderate size, it was lighted by » single window placed high up in the wall .and protected by a strong grating, The door was of tussive oak, furnished with a formidable lock mid several outside bolts. The furniture was meagre but comfortable us far as it went, and from certain signs Geoffrey came to the conclu- sion that, that wasnot the iiist time the room had been used as a prison, lie sat down and began To review his situation somewhat disconsolately, fcr the highest animal spirits are scarcely proof against the depressing effect of sudden solitary confinement. To be thus a prisoner in peril of his life in Honoria's home,—lie knew not whether that made his condition more bearable or the reverse. It was at It-ast a strange irony of fate. Tho thought that he was a prisoner while Honoria and her father were perhaps in danger was unbearable. What more likely than that Cowdray, who seemed the mnster-mind of the band of conspirators, should use the means in his power, when the attempt they hinted at should take place, to gratify his private greed and secure the fair inheritance of iiuscott by assassinating Sir Philip and his daughter Exa.-perat'.on ut being dispossessed of the pro- perty was evidently his motive in joining the plot. The attempt was to be made without delay, and- Geoffrey sprang to his feet, mad ut-the thought that he was a captive, unable to warn or protect. And that his brother should be mixed up in this vile Affair Jt was monstrous. If only he could make a dash for freedom, and, for the credit of his name, denounce the traitors Holding up the solitary candle by which the room was lighted, he (Canned the place eagerly for any suggestion of a way of escape. but none seemed feasible, everything was solid and strong nor was there anything in the rrom which might serve as a tool with which to break his way out. The door fitted closely, and did not even rattle as he tried to shake it: not a sign of yielding there. The window was heavily bar- red, small, and almost inaccessible. There only remained the lire-place. This was of somewhat: large dimensions for the size and character of the room, and the prisoner began to have hopes of an escape by its means, but upon close examination he found the lower part of the chimney protected by thick iron bars which crossed it, and which were strongly cemented into the brick-work on either side, lie tried with all his might to shake them. but they Were firmly fixed, and his utmost efforts were futile to induce even the slightest degree of looseness. Tired with his exertion, Geoffrey at length desisted, and threw himself into a chair in no very pleasant state of mind. wondering what his fate would be. No sound was to be heard in the house the absolute silence and still- ness of the place were, to one in his situath n, almost appalling. All lie could do was to re- solve that with the last light of morning ho would renew his search for a way of escape. Presently, wearied out with his long journey, the incidents and excitement of the day, he dozed oil in the chair. To wake up at length out cf a troubled dream with a start, springing to his feet as though to defend himself. Jn a few moments he had recollected his sit- uation and satisfied himself that he was still alone. The can lie had burnt itself out, thus he was deprived cf the only means of knowing how long he had slept, If only light would come Was it not growing ligllter r There was a bright reflection on the floor. lie watched the light patch eagerly he had never longed for dawn as he did then. Eat the room seemed to become more obscure instead of brightening never- theless there was something peculiar in the white object which had attracted Geofirev's attention. It was still there, just discernible, although surely no light was falling on that part of the room. rtiw.led to account for it. Geoffrey rose, stretched forward and touched the place with his foot. The brightening was not caused by a ray ot light or a reflection, for when his foot covered it all was dark. lie removed his foot and —with an exclamation stooped down and jacked up a piece of paper, He could swear it had not been earlier in the night when his candle was burning. Had it been he must have seen it when he examined the door, so it had been pushed underneath while he was fisW-n. Doubtless it was a message—if only he could see the writing he felt sure must he on it. But the. room was now quite dark, the faint light of a short time before had disap- peared, there was nothing for the prisoner to do but wait for dawn, when he might be aUo to decipher the communication. The mysteri- ous warning which had been given him when he first entered the house recurred to his mind. He felt that lie had a friend fit hand who it could be he was at a loss to imagine; perhaps one who secretly disapproved of the plot which was being hatched in the piace, or more likely a servant of the house who had known its former master and hated the usurper. Busy with these thoughts and speculations, Geoffrey pnced the room, longing more than ever for the first appearance otlight but all was pitch dark now, even the window was in- visible. So the long hours wore slowly and tediously away, but at length the seemingly interminable night was over, and just as Geoffrey's impatience was rising to fever heat the first reflection of dawn appeared at the window. It was long, however, before there was light enough to enable him to see clearly what the scrap of paper contained but at last with the growing daylight he was able slowly and with difficulty to make out the words which, ns he had expected, were written on it. Lift the large knob and turn the second bar three times away. Then press the third orna- ment on left. No time must be lost." And he had lost hours If only he had not fallen asleep while his candle burned. The writing was in a woman's hand, as the whisper in the hall had been a woman's voice. Hut he could not think about that at least he would lose no time now. Of course the lire- place was referred to. lie read over the direc- tions ngnin, and, full of hope, proceeded to put them into practice. First he tried the large knob on the left hand side of the grate. It shewed, however, no signs of yielding when he pulled it upwards. lie tugged at if-, he tried to screw it round, but all in vain. Then he applied himself to the simi- lar knob on the right. Tins seemed slightly loose, but gave way not. more than the eighth of an inch. However as this appeared to be the limit of its yielding he held it up with one hand and with the other proceeded to try the Becond bar. To his delight, it levoived, and he was able to torn it as directed, three times in an outward direction. He had enough mechanical knowledge to guess that this con- trivance screwed away a catch which prevented the working of other mechanism. The inner span of the fire-place was adorned with wrought iron ornaments of somewhat, florid design. Geoffrey pressed the third from the hearth With no result: then the third from the chimney. It gave slighliy, and a click was heard, al- though he could not see for the moment what caused it, or any alteration in the appearance of the surface. But on examining it closely he detected n slight projection high up, just beneath the bars which crossed the lower part of the chimney. On feeling this he found to his great joy-thnt it was the edge of a little door which stood njar. He pulled it open, climbed up and looked in. It was evidently one of the hiding placcs — sometimes called priest cham- bers—vvliieii abounded in old nouses »a period. lint had it an outlet? If not, what would be the use of his climbing into it ? Was it a trick to immure him in the secret receptacle and starve him to death r He could hardly think tliat, remembering the warning he had received on his arrival. He returned to the room, listened for any sound in the hoiir:e, lld hearing none, took his cloak and hat, clambered up again into the fire-place, and thence pulled himself through the narrow doorway into the secret room. The chamber in which he found himself was about nine or ten feet square, and lighted from above by a long shaft evidently connected at Lhe top with the neighbouring chimney. The second glance round the place dispelled Geof- frey's fears of a trap. A narrow masked door stood ajar. As he squeezed through it lie could not help wondering how a well-ted priest could have contrived to perform the same feat. Per- shance lif starved in the room first, or there been another burrow for holy fathers >f more rotund figure, while this was reserved for lean and ascetic brethren. So he groped his way down a narrow stair, constructed ap- parently in the space between two walls. The descent was a long one, but at lengths he reached tiie end. and found hiinael/ in what seemed a vault or passage in the foundations of the building. At least the mouldy smell and the dry earth he stood upon told him he was be- low the ground. It was so dark here that he had to move forward with the utmost cau- tion, keeping in touch with the wall and try- ing the ground in front of him betore taking each step. After a while his progress was stopped by a wall turning aside, he encoun- tered another. Evidently he waa still in the space between the outer and the inner walls, but below the ground. Could it be that there was no egress, and he had but exchanged his lofty prison for a subterranean one ? His spirits, which had risen, now sank as he reflected that this might, after all, have been but a trick to bury him alive. Still he resolved not to give up hope, but to return to the foot of the stairs and examine the place as well as he could in the darkness to see whether there was no way of escape. He reached the place whence he had started and felt carefully all round. Nothing but the rough surface of the massive walls. Over and over again he tried till his hands were bruised and bleeding not the slightest indication of a door. And yet—why should that stairway have been contrived had it. led nowhere but to thut nnrrow vault F If the priest's room above were discovered, the stairs from it would not long remain a secret, and the occupant would gain little by retiring down them, unless there were some way of escape. The floor P He went down on his knees and scraped away at the musty earth. Soon his hand caught something and in a moment he knew the secret of the place. A second touch proved it to be a sunken iron ring. He rose, and after one or two at- tempts succeeded in lifting a heavy trap-door. It required great strength to raise it any dis- tance for it was solid iron of great weight. Hut the prospect of liberty to near and a horror of the con lined stilling vault nerved him to a great effort, and he was at length enabled laboriously to lift it right up and throw it back. A vile earthy smell arose from the opening but,, nothing daunted, Geoffrey felt down and discovered stone steps leading yet lower. Next ir inent he had begun to descend them, trying each one ere he rested his weight upon it. About ten steps brought him to the bottom, t. ill in absolute darkness, He had no doubt now that this was a subterranean passage from its relative position to the first vault, leading away from the house. Noisome as the air of the passage was, there was nothing for it but to follow its course and see whither ,t Jed. Groping his way along, bent double owing to the lowness of the roof, he went, on and on, expecting at every step to arrive at the end, till it seemed that the distance he had traversed must have been nearly a quarter of a mile. At last, however, he came to what he had counted upon—the corresponding flight of steps at the far end. Up these lie "climbed tilt he reached the top which he knew must be an- other trap-donr. He felt round about him for a bolt, soon lighted upon it, drew it back after great exertion, pushed up the heavy door, and with an exclamation of relief and tlmnlt- fulness drew the first breath of fresh air he nad inhaled for hours. CnAFTER XVIII. CEOFFKKY'S DELIVERER. | After resting a few moments he pushed the door back out of his way, and drew himself to the surface, finding he had come up in the midst of a thick plantation. Replacing the trap-door, he scrambled through the bushes, eager to make good his escape. As he emerged from these he found himself in an open clell which he recognised as a spot which he had heard Ilonoria describe. The picturesqueness of its natural situation was enhanced by the ruins of a tower which stood there, part., prob- ably, of a larger building of ancient date. Hurried and exhausted ns he was, Geoffrey could not resist pausing for a moment to ad- mire the romantic aspect of the ivy-grown tower glistening in the eurly sunlight. lie was moving Cll again, when suddenly he started and stopped at the sight, of the shadow of a human being who was hid from him for the moment by the convexity of the tower. The shadow was ad- vancing in another moment they would be face to face, and Geoffrey to his dismay re- collected that he. had no sword. He drew back against the thick ivy, conscious that, being unarmed, his only chance was to take the com- ing person by surprise. It could but be a foo in th-t place; a sudden spring,—he forgot his exhaustion and braced himself for a desperate effort. In another moment the substance of the shadow cnme in view, and, only just in time to check his half started rush, Geoffrey saw a woman. Moreover, when "he turned her face, giving a slight start as her eye fell on him nouc.iing there, he recognised the girl whom he had met riding across the heath and had accosted the day before. With all the self-consciousness of youth, ho felt rather foolish and ashamed of his begrimed clothing. On the other hand, all the previous constraint had vanished from the young lady's manner. So you have found your way cut. she exclaimed with a laugh. A suspicion of the truth flashed across Geof- frey's mind, but even then he could not under- stand it. Was it you," he asked, coming forward, who shewed me how to escape ?" She seemed to colour a little as she answered "What matter, now you are free?" I am sure it is you who have done me th;" good turn," he said, with a grateful ring in his voice. I shall not contradict you. It is lucky for you that one person at liuscott, and only one, knew the secret of that room. It was told by ail old servant now dead. Only, as, by taking pity on you, I have put my -iather's life in peril, I IHl a right to ask you to shesy consideration towards us now you are free." How r your father r" My name is Edith Cowdmy." You He had suspected it, but there was surprise and regret. in his tone. What consideration do you mean that I should i-hewr" She moved toward the opening of the old tower. Come ill here," she twill, lest we be seen speaking together. I mean," she weat on, when he hud followed her inside, that you should breathe no word of what may havo come to your knowledge last night." Geoffrey, full of in tent, to disclose the plot, hesitated. [ fear I cannot promise that," lie replied. 1 should be a tmit. false to my King in whose "enICe I hope soon to he." Th is, then, is your gratitude she flashed out at him. I cannot give that promise," he said firmly, It is my duty, l am bound in honour to warn the King that a plot threatens him. But I will undertake not to mention your father's name." "A meagre reservation she returned, with something like a sneer. I mu sorry," he proceeded. if I owe my liberty to you under a false idea. But I can assure you that had you offered me the means of escape in return for a promise of secrecy, I would not have accepted it." It is more than your liberty I have given you; it is your life," she exclaimed bitterly. I am indeed aware of that but, as hist night I chose the prospect of death rather than join this plot, so to-day [ cannot be an ac- cessory to it by keeping silence. I know very little indeed, but that little I have no right to withhold from those who are threatened." For a while the girl was silent she stood looking away, and tapping her foot on the ground. Perhaps it is as welt," die said at length. "] f t.he se!Iellle is"Hipped the bud my father may .escape suspicion. And I have no faith in these conspiracies that do but lura men from their homes to the Tower und (Jia headsman's block." I give you my word of honour that I will disclose no names," Geoffrey protested, relieved to und her not too insistent upon his absolute silence. Why, know you not that my own brother is in the conspiracy F" I knew it—too late to warn yen away," she said simply. And so if you must set the hounds upon us I have no one but myself to blame." Eager as he was to return to Awbrayes, Geof. frey felt that duty pointed him first to Oxford where he might find means of warning the King of the plot. It was necessary to proceed with caution for, in spite of Edith Oowdniy's assur- ance, she might have been mistaken, and ho knew not how soon he might encounter some of the conspirators on his road. Of two things he was sadly in want, a sword and ahorse. Luckily his money was intact, but the difficulty was in that sparsely populated country to light upon a place where he could buy both or either. After two or three hours' uneventful walk Geoffrey arrived at a small town on the way to- wards Oxford and here he was able to furnish himself with both a rapier and a good service- able horwe. Now he felt a man again, and pro- ceeded boldly on his road. On teaching Oxford he learned that the King was not there he had ridden away from the city, and it was uncertain ivhither he had gona and when he would return. The man, a loung- ing courtier apparently, to whom Geoffrey ap- plied, rather laughed at the idea of the plot. riots he exclaimed languidly. We hear of a new one regularly every day. There is a damnable villain styled Colonel Blood who is said to be on the King's track. Is he one of the crew you eueak of r All t he is uot far off. I warrant. A desperate fellow, but Charles makes 1ight.pf him, and passed a good jest but only yesteL4kiiglit on his name. Well, if he who is mosf concerned takes the danger thus lightly, what need is there for us to trouble ourselves ? To seize the King, say you ? Why, to seize him they must find him: and wherelieis now 'tis more than I can tell or any man in Oxford City. Make your mind easy, my good sir, and possess your soul in patience, as the preacher says, till his Majesty deigns to return. There is, I am told, excellent lodging to be bud at the sign of the Mitre, and as you seem a stranger—" I cannot stay," Geoffrey broke in impati- ently, I have others to warn. Bnt I will use alL speed to return by night-fall. Only, if the King should come back first, for Heaven's sake. do not delay to give him warning of what I have told you." The other gave a light promise, and Geoffrey redo away. ,.¡ -1 CHAPTER XIX. THE GATHERING CLOUDS. On that same day late in the afternoon, Buckingham went to Awbrayes. This time, he left his horse at a stable in the village and proceeded on foot to (,'hristoferson's Lioti.,e. Before presenting himself at the door, however, lie thought he would wait about in the ground.1 on the chance of seeing Ilonoria. He was anx- ious to avoid, if possible, encountering Christo- fersou they were to meet at Varwood that evening, until when he was content to put off all thoughts of the great secret if he could but tind an opportunity of passing the intervening time in making love to Honoria. Since their interview the day before, his natural admiration for her had developed into a passion. It even for the moment eclipsed his ambition, revived and spurred on by the prospect of the power and advantage the elixir would give him. Changing his course so as to get round under the wall of the house with the least risk of ob- servation, he crept nearly to the doc r, and then, changing his method of approach, walked up to it, and boldly in. Gaining the hall he paused, listening for a sign of anyone's presence. All was silent as usual there, He was about to ad- vance further into the house, when he heard a slight sound, He listened. Footsteps sonie- one was approaching. He drew back beside a. projecting piece of furniture and waited to see who it might be. A woman's step, coining to- wards him aioiig the corridor leading away behind the great staircase. Unwilling to let Ifonorta, if it were she, escape him, lie Ad- vanced to give chase, and as lie did so saw the lady he sought disappearing into one of the rooms in the front of the house leading from the hall. So. he had caught, her at hist His coming could not- have been better timed. Going softly forward, he peeped into the room. Ilonoria was standing by the window, leaning Against the side, and looking out across the dreary garden. So absorbing was her reverie that she did not hear Buckingham until he had reached tho centre of the room. Then he turned with a start recognising him, her face flushed with anger, and she made an indignant move towards the door. "Hear me, madam, for one minute," lie pleaded with a respectful bow. There is an important matter on which I must speak to you." You have chosen an ill way of approaching me, sir," she answered with displeasure. Your want of manners—" Forgive it he broke in, in a well- feigned tone of contrition. When I arrived here the door was open I did but enter as I have been used to do when visiting my friend Master Chrlsfoferson, and, catching a sight of you in here, I made bold to enter, having come on your service and Sir Philip Hevonald's. If I have startled you, I humbly pray your for- giveness." She gavAim a slight bow in acknowledge- ment. If you have business with my father, I will shew yon where you may find him." Nay, let me speak to you," he urged. If," she objected, you cannot speak to bettor purpose than yester-even I would prefer not to hear you." As she moved towards the door Buckingham intercepted her. Nay, but you must hear me," lie protested vehemently, prepared for any trick to induce her to listen to liim. "1 swear I will speak no word of myself, no word of compliment or of love. You little dream how I can serve you, in what evil case your father may find himself, notwithstanding the King's regrant of your property. Only listen to me My desire is for your good to show you how to avoid the danger which threatens you. Nay," he added, standing aside to give her passage as lie saw her hesitation, there shall be no coer- cion. May I 9peak ? Or will you go t" It were best that you should speak to my father." Sir Philip, I hcnr, still suffers from his wound. To alarm him were to retard his re- covery. Will you not trust'me P" Beset with vague apprehensions, Honoria felt herself no free agent..She could but keep a consenting silence. And in that Buckingham Saw the prospect of victory. I will not offend you again," lie said, you shall soon learn howyouhave misjudged ine-ni weil as one whoso name shall not be spoken between 118, May we not lie friends ?" He held out his hand frankly, but she did not take it. How can you serve us P" blica de- manded. What can you know of our tdfairs. P" A proof," lie responded, of how greatly you are mistaken in me. I am not,* perchance, the insignificant yeoman Jon imagine. Shall I tell you of Sir Philip's suit to the King of—" lie ran over certain circumstaiu es and del .ails connected with that weary suit some of whicli lie had known from beinji about tho Council Chamber, ami others which lie Jm.d just learned by enquiry. So much for the past," he said, With a smile of triumph over her incredulity. You see this Master Vincent- is a mall of gre::bt. consequence than you would allow. Now for the future. Will you hear 1110 on that r" She raised her eyes to his. If you can tell us aught of that which concerns or threatens us- I cjiu, indeed f can he returned. But as a friend. Have you not humiliated me enough ? You shall know how i can serve you, what influence 1 have in high piaces to turn out —no easy task for Sir Philip iii-iiiided --to turn out this badger Oowdray from your liome. Will you accept my service ? May we be friendo ? He held out his hand ngain. However great her reluctance, she could not but. giiM irers. In an instant the Hake had raised it to his lips. The action was so Ilutnml that, she. could CHTce- ly complain he was breaking his word, neverthe- less she drew her hand back with some show of annoyance, a state of feeling which prevented her noticing that the window was daikencd for a moment by the figure of a man who, passing quickly, had caught sight of them in the room and, stopping suddenly, had seen the action. Neither was Buckingham aware that they had been observed, careless of all else when his mind was set on a particular object. (To be Continued.)