"Ogelt'orpe is on t'e moor and Sare Francis Compton. If t'is is true, `ow can t'ey `ave miss Monmoot'? Send word to Milor' Churchill at once, Wentwort'. Let t'e matter be investigate' - at once, Wentwort' - at once!" The General was dancing with excitement.
Wentworth saluted and turned to leave the room. "If you `ave tole me true," continued Feversham, turning now to Richard, "you shall `ave t'e price you ask, and t'e t'anks of t'e King's army. But if not...""Oh, it's true enough," broke in Wilding, and his voice was like a groan, his face overcharged with gloom.
Feversham looked at him; his sneering smile returned.
"Me, I not remember," said he, "that Mr. Westercott `ave include you in t'e bargain."Nothing had been further from Wilding's thoughts than such a suggestion.
And he snorted his disdain. The sergeant had fallen back at Feversham's words, and his men lined the wall of the chamber. The General bade Richard be seated whilst he waited. Sir Rowland stood apart, leaning wearily against the wainscot, waiting also, his dull wits not quite clear how Richard might have come by so valuable a piece of information, his evil spirit almost wishing it untrue, in his vindictiveness, to the end that Richard might pay the price of having played him false and Ruth the price of having scorned him.
Feversham meanwhile was seeking - with no great success - to engage Mr.
Wilding in talk of Monmouth, against whom Feversham harboured in addition to his political enmity a very deadly personal hatred; for Feversham had been a suitor to the hand of the Lady Henrietta Wentworth, the woman for whom Monmouth - worthy son of his father - had practically abandoned his own wife; the woman with whom he had runoff, to the great scandal of court and nation.
Despairing of drawing any useful information from Wilding, his lordship was on the point of turning to Blake, when quick steps and the rattle of a scabbard sounded without; the door was thrust open without ceremony, and Captain Wentworth reappeared.
"My lord," he cried, his manner excited beyond aught one could have believed possible in so phlegmatic-seeming a person, "it is true.
We are beset."
"Beset!" echoed Feversham. "Beset already?""We can hear them moving on the moor. They are crossing the Langmoor Rhine. They will be upon us in ten minutes at the most. I have roused Colonel Douglas, and Dunbarton's regiment is ready for them."Feversham exploded. "What else `ave you done?" he asked. "Where is Milor' Churchill ?""Lord Churchill is mustering his men as quietly as may be that they may be ready to surprise those who come to surprise us. By Heaven, sir, we owe a great debt to Mr. Westmacott. Without his information we might have had all our throats cut whilst we slept.""Be so kind to call Belmont," said Feversham. "Tell him to bring my clot'es."Wentworth turned and went out again to execute the General's orders.
Feversham spoke to Richard. "We are oblige', Mr. Westercott," said he.
"We are ver' much oblige'."
Suddenly from a little distance came the roll of drums. Other sounds began to stir in the night outside to tell of a waking army.
Feversham stood listening. "It is Dunbarton's," he murmured. Then, with some show of heat, "Ah, pardieu!" he cried. "But it was a dirty t'ing t'is Monmoot' `ave prepare'. It is murder; it is not t'e war.
"And yet," said Wilding critically, "it is a little more like war than the Bridgwater affair to which your lordship gave your sanction.
Feversham pursed his lips and considered the speaker. Wentworth reentered, followed by the Earl's valet carrying an armful of garments.
His lordship threw off his dressing-gown and stood forth in shirt and breeches.
"Mais dpche-toi, donc, Belmont!" said he. "Nous nous battons! Ii faut que je m'habille." Belmont, a little wizened fellow who understood nothing of this topsy-turveydom, hastened forward, deposited his armful on the table, and selected a finely embroidered waistcoat, which he proceeded to hold for his master. Wriggling into it, Feversham rapped out his orders.
"Captain Wentwort', you will go to your regimen at once. But first, ah - wait. Take t'ose six men and Mistaire Wilding. `Ave `im shot at once; you onderstan', eh? Good. Allons, Belmont! my cravat."
