The Toll-Gate Read online

  The Captain drew his wife a little to one side, and said in her ear: ‘Take him away, Nell, and leave me alone with your grandfather! He is very much exhausted, and the sooner he has said what he desires to say to me the better it will be.’

  She nodded, and moved away from his side, glancing significantly at Winkfield. In a very few moments, only John was left with the Squire. He returned to the big four-poster, drawing the curtains along the foot of it, to shut off the glare of the candles.

  ‘It wasn’t you I forced into it,’ Sir Peter said. ‘It was Nell. I don’t know what it is Henry has done, but it’s something damnable. The dog threatened me – threatened me! – Said if I would not give orders Coate must be treated with extraordinary civility he and I and Nell would be ruined! By God, I –’

  ‘Let me assure you, sir,’ interposed the Captain calmly, ‘that there is not the slightest danger of such a thing! Nor does Master Henry’s attempt to conjure up bogeys in any way impress me.’

  ‘What are he and Coate doing?’ demanded the Squire.

  ‘I’m not in a position to tell you that, though I have some inklings. Henry, I think, is nothing more than a tool, and I have every expectation of being able to bring him off without public scandal.’

  The Squire’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know more than you mean to tell me, eh? Coate will drag Henry into it, if there’s a discovery.’

  ‘Not if his mouth is shut, sir.’

  ‘Very likely! And, pray, how is that to be achieved?’

  ‘I think, sir,’ replied John, smiling down at him, ‘that that is something you had best leave to me.’

  One corner of the Squire’s mouth lifted a little. ‘You do, do you? Know how to do the trick?’

  ‘Yes,’ John said.

  The deep, imperturbable voice had its effect. The Squire sighed, and seemed to relax. ‘I daresay you’ll handle it,’ he said. ‘I’ve shot my bolt. But I’ve made all safe for Nell. If Henry’s disgraced us, she wouldn’t have married you, you know. Forced you into this, of course. If you disliked it –’

  ‘I did not,’ interrupted John. He bent over the bed, gently taking the old man’s hand, and holding it. ‘Indeed, I’m grateful to you, sir, and I swear to you Nell shall never have cause to regret this night’s work.’ He added, with a twinkle: ‘It was, besides, an education to see how a difficult team could be driven to an inch!’

  The Squire chuckled. ‘Ah, I was a top-sawyer in my day!’

  ‘I should describe you today as a nonpareil, sir,’ John retorted. ‘I am going to leave you now. May I beg you to think no more of your grandson’s nonsense? There is not the least need for you to tease yourself about it.’

  The waxen hand feebly returned the pressure of his fingers. ‘You came in the very nick of time, you know. Old Mops and Brooms’ grandson – ! Send Nell in to say good night to me!’

  The Captain left him with no more words. In the dressing-room he found Nell awaiting him, with Winkfield. He smiled at her, and said: ‘Go to Sir Peter, my love: he wishes to bid you good night.’

  She nodded, and went at once into the bedchamber. The Captain, closing the door behind her, said: ‘Before she comes back, tell me this! Is Mr Stornaway sick, or is he shamming it?’

  ‘He’s sick enough, sir – if you call it being sick to have caught cold! We had Dr Bacup here today, and Mr Henry desired him to go to him, which he did. He was always one to think himself dying for the least ailment, and no sooner did he start sneezing and coughing than he was persuaded he had an inflammation of the lungs. It’s no such thing, of course, but his man’s been carrying up cans of hot water for mustard foot-baths all day, and he’s eaten nothing but tea and toast, because he says his pulse is tumultuous. However, the doctor left a draught for him to take, and I don’t doubt he will be more the thing by tomorrow.’

  ‘I see.’ John was silent for a moment, frowning a little. ‘There is nothing to be gained by my seeing him tonight, then.’

  ‘Seeing him, sir?’ Winkfield repeated.

  ‘Yes, and as soon as may be possible. Not before he has left his bed, however – and I myself have certain plans to be made. Where is his room?’

  ‘In the other wing of the house, sir – his and Mr Coate’s room too,’ Winkfield answered, eyeing him wonderingly.

  ‘Can you describe to me precisely which room it is, and how it may be reached from this wing?’

  Winkfield gave a slight gasp. ‘Yes, sir, but –’

  ‘Then do so! I am coming to pay Mr Henry a visit, but since I don’t wish Coate to know of it, it will be a nocturnal one – probably tomorrow night, if I can arrange it so.’

  ‘Indeed, sir!’ said Winkfield, rather faintly. ‘Were you – were you thinking of climbing through the window?’

  ‘Your windows weren’t made for a man of my size, I’m afraid. I was rather thinking of entering by the side-door – which you would leave unlocked.’

  ‘That would undoubtedly be better, sir,’ agreed Winkfield. ‘If you were to proceed along this corridor, you would find yourself on the gallery that runs round the main staircase. Immediately opposite, is a similar corridor to this. The first door upon the right of it opens into Mr Henry’s room. Beyond it is a small spare room, and opposite to that is Mr Coate’s room, with a dressing-room beside it.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s very clear.’

  ‘If I might venture to suggest, sir – I have been sleeping here, in this room, lately, and if you were to wake me –’

  ‘I think I won’t, Winkfield. It is possible that you might not be able to attend to me, or be the only person in this room,’ John said bluntly. ‘I’m afraid the end is very near now. I’ve seen men die, and that look is in your master’s face tonight.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Winkfield said quietly, and turned away, as Nell came back into the room.

  ‘Will you go to him now, Winkfield?’ she said. ‘He is so tired, but – but wonderfully peaceful, and even in spirits!’

  The valet went into the bedchamber without a word, his face rather set. Nell looked up at John. ‘Do you think – do you think he is better, John?’

  He did not hesitate. ‘No, dearest,’ he replied gently.

  ‘I see.’ She went slowly towards him, and leaned against his shoulder as he put his arm round her. ‘I couldn’t wish it, of course. It is only that there have been just the two of us for so long.’

  ‘I know.’

  She put her hand up to touch his cheek. ‘And now there is you, and – and so much happiness in my heart that there seems to be hardly room enough for anything else. Am I really married, or is it a dream?’

  ‘You are really married, my wife. It is the strangest wedding ever two people had, but the knot was well and truly tied.’

  ‘I think, even though you would not say so, you must have disliked it very much.’

  ‘No.’ He turned her face up, and kissed her. ‘Only to be obliged to leave you, my wife. That – I do indeed dislike!’

  Fifteen

  The Captain, having stabled Beau, walked back to the toll-house across the field, and entered it by the back-door. He found Mr Babbacombe alone, seated by the fire, and sipping brandy and water. Mr Babbacombe raised a weary eyebrow, and said: ‘What, didn’t they offer you a bed? How shabby!’

  The Captain grinned at him. ‘I beg pardon! Have I been away so long? Where’s Ben? Have you murdered him?’

  ‘No, but I found him such a dead bore that I sent him to bed. Pikekeeping couldn’t be worse than playing cassino with that bird-witted boy. I only had to open the gate twice – each time to your groom-acquaintance. Happily he knew what the toll was, for I did not.’

  ‘Yes, I met Joseph on my way back,’ John said, rather absently. He poured himself out some brandy, while his friend sleepily watched him. He glanced down at Babbacombe. ‘Did Chirk come?’

  ‘I imagine he
did, since Ben slid from the place in what he no doubt considered to be an unobtrusive fashion.’

  ‘I hope he means to come again tomorrow. If not, I must go in search of him, and I fancy that will mean a twenty mile ride, if not more.’

  ‘If you’re trying to tell me, Jack, that you want me to make a cake of myself, minding the pike while you’re away –’

  ‘No, Ben can attend to it during the day. But I don’t want you to go back to Edenhope tomorrow!’

  Mr Babbacombe yawned. ‘Dear boy – not the slightest intention of doing so! Someone must carry the news to your mother that you’ve been taken off to Newgate.’

  ‘You’re a devilish good fellow, Bab!’ said the Captain gratefully.

  ‘I’m not. Don’t choose to have it said of me that I’m the sort of queer fish who leaves his friends in the lurch. Now perhaps you’ll tell me what you’ve been doing up at the Manor? For one who has come from attending a deathbed you’ve a mighty cheerful appearance.’

  ‘I haven’t. At least, the Squire’s alive still. I’ve come from a wedding!’

  Mr Babbacombe sat up with a jerk. ‘You’ve come from – Whose wedding?’ he demanded uneasily.

  ‘My own!’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ ejaculated Mr Babbacombe. ‘Now I know you’re touched in your upper works!’

  ‘Oh, no, I’m not!’ John said, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards.

  Mr Babbacombe saw it, and groaned. ‘If you think that is the news I’ll carry to your mother, you’re mightily mistaken!’ he declared. ‘It’s the girl you mentioned, I collect? Miss Stornaway? So that’s why you’re so devilish anxious to keep Henry Stornaway’s name clean! Lord, what made you do such a thing, you crazy gudgeon?’

  ‘I fell in love with her the instant I saw her,’ replied John, with a simplicity that defied disbelief. He smiled, as Mr Babbacombe’s jaw dropped. ‘Did you think I was indulging in a fit of quixotry? Oh, no! She is – well, never mind that! You will meet her presently, and then you will understand. I am the happiest man on earth!’

  ‘In that case, dear boy,’ said Mr Babbacombe, rising nobly to the occasion, ‘nothing for it but to drink your health!’

  ‘Thank you! That is why I must do my possible to rescue young Stornaway. It ain’t that I care what sort of a hell-born babe Nell’s cousin may be – Good God, haven’t we all got relations that are precious loose fish? From anything I’ve ever heard, Bab, most of our grandfathers were nothing more than a set of Bingo-club boys! – but Nell would! So Sir Peter knew: that’s why he got a special license, and had us married out of hand. And that’s why I may need you here!’ He finished the brandy in his glass, and stood for a moment, thinking. Then he set down the glass, and said: ‘The Squire’s had notice to quit, and I think it may be only a matter of hours now, and the devil’s in it that until I’ve settled this business with that pair of rogues I can’t leave this place, or claim my wife. To let Coate know that she is my wife would be to hamstring the only plan I’ve got. I hardly think that he could be black enough – or foolish enough! – to force his suit upon her while her grandfather is still unburied, but I won’t have her subjected to the slightest annoyance! If Henry tries to make it uncomfortable for her, I’ll have her away from the Manor instantly, and give her into your charge, until I have finished what I have to do here.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Mr Babbacombe, startled. ‘Do you mean you want me to take your wife to Mildenhurst?’

  ‘Good God, no! I’ll take her to Mildenhurst myself, I thank you! At need, you’ll take her to Buxton, and instal her at the best inn there, and take care of her until I come.’

  ‘No, really, Jack!’ protested Mr Babbacombe, quite horrified.

  ‘Lord, Bab, don’t be such a sapskull! She’ll have her maid, and her groom, and her majordomo too, if Winkfield will go with her. All I want you to do is to bear her company, and to see that she doesn’t fret. And that puts me in mind of something else! I hope you came here flush in the pocket, because I shall soon be cleaned out, and I must borrow from you.’

  Mr Babbacombe thrust a hand into his pocket, and drew forth a fat bundle.

  ‘A roll of soft!’ said the Captain admiringly. ‘I guessed it! What a thing it is to have a well-blunted friend! No, no, I don’t want it now! – only if I should be obliged to send Nell to Buxton!’

  Mr Babbacombe restored the roll to his pocket. ‘Well, I’d as lief you didn’t send her!’ he said frankly. ‘It ain’t in my line of country, Jack, dangling after females! What’s more, it seems to me I should be of more use to you if I stayed here, for I can tell by the way you’re looking that you’ve got some dashed dangerous scheme in your head!’

  John laughed. ‘Oh, no! I think I shall come about safely enough!’

  ‘Well, what are you planning to do?’ insisted Mr Babbacombe.

  ‘I can’t tell you that at present, but –’

  ‘Don’t you try to hoax me, Jack!’ interrupted his incensed friend. ‘If you can’t tell me, it means you’re bent on some crack-brained dangerous thing you know dashed well I wouldn’t hear of!’

  ‘Well, you aren’t going to hear of it,’ replied John consolingly. ‘Oh, don’t look so horrified! I don’t mean to cock up my toes, I assure you! However, any bold stroke must carry with it a certain risk, and I’m glad you’ve put me in mind of it. I must make a Will, and you can witness it, and take charge of it. Tomorrow will be time enough for that. Lord, how late it is! Go back to the Blue Boar, old fellow, and don’t have nightmares on my account!’

  Nothing more could be got out of him, and since he was plainly thinking of something else while he appeared to listen politely to Mr Babbacombe’s earnest representations, that ill-used gentleman presently abandoned the losing fight, and departed, freely prophesying disaster. Upon which the Captain went to bed, and dropped into the sleep of one without a care in the world.

  He was relieved to learn from Ben, on the following morning, that Chirk proposed to visit the toll-house again that evening, and was able to devote his attention to a more pressing problem. After turning the matter over in his mind while he groomed his horse, he came to the conclusion that his next action must be to reach an understanding with Gabriel Stogumber; and with this end in view he left Ben and Mrs Skeffling to mind the gate between them, and set off down the road to the village.

  It was still early in the morning, and he had no expectation of seeing Mr Babbacombe, with whose matutinal habits he was familiar; but when he arrived at the Blue Boar he found the landlord and his wife, the boots, and a flustered chambermaid all anxiously engaged in assembling on several trays a breakfast which it was hoped would not be thought unworthy of the most distinguished traveller the inn had ever housed. Until this Lucullan repast had been conveyed to Mr Babbacombe’s bedchamber no one had more than a distracted nod to bestow upon John, so he left the back premises for the tap, and, finding this empty, penetrated to the small coffee room. Here he was more fortunate. Seated in solitary state at the head of the table, and partaking of a meal which bore all the signs of having been hastily prepared and served, was Mr Stogumber. He was looking far from well, and when he was obliged to use his left arm he did so stiffly, and as though it pained him. At sight of John his furrowed brow cleared a little, and he seemed pleased, bidding him an affable good morning.

  ‘You see I ain’t stuck my spoon in the wall yet, big ’un!’ he remarked, adding, with a darkling glance at the muddy coffee in his cup: ‘Not but what I very likely will, if that out-and-outer upstairs means to stay here much longer! They tell me he’s a friend of the Squire’s, but not putting up at the Manor on account of the Squire’s being so poorly. I don’t know how that may be, but what I do know is that there ain’t a soul in this ken as can think of anything else but what he’d fancy for his breakfast, or who’s to ride to Tideswell for special blacking for his boots. It’s took me the best part of an hour to get the Admiral o
f the Blue out there to let me have anything young Top-of-the-Trees don’t happen to want for my breakfast!’

  ‘A swell cove, eh?’ grinned John.

  ‘Ah! Of course, you wouldn’t know him, would you, big ’un?’

  John laughed. ‘On the contrary! I know him well.’

  ‘Well, now!’ said Mr Stogumber, surprised and gratified. ‘I disremember that you’ve ever been so nice and open afore. If it ain’t too much to ask, who might he be?’

  ‘Not in the least: there’s no secret about that! His name is Wilfred Babbacombe, and he is a son of Lord Allerthorpe. In London, he lives in chambers, in Albany; at this season he may be found at Edenhope, near Melton Mowbray.’

  ‘Fancy that!’ marvelled Stogumber. ‘Friend of yours, big ’un?’

  ‘A close friend of mine.’

  Mr Stogumber, after surveying him with an unblinking stare, pushed his coffee cup away, and said: ‘And you a trooper!’

  John shook his head. ‘No. I was a Captain in the 3rd Dragoon Guards.’

  ‘I know that,’ replied Stogumber placidly. ‘And you lives at Mildenhurst, in Hertfordshire. What I would like to know is why you’ve took it into your noddle all on a sudden to give over trying to flam me?’

  ‘You know that too. I saw your Occurrence Book the other evening.’

  ‘I suspicioned you did,’ said Stogumber, quite unperturbed. ‘I don’t deny it had me in a bit of a quirk at the time, but that was afore I’d had a report on you. I did think it might be a longish time before they’d be able, in London, to discover who you was, if they could do it at all, but since you was so obliging as to tell me your true monarch, and the very regiment you was in, it seems there wasn’t no trouble about it.’