The Toll-Gate Read online

‘Well, don’t take on about it!’ recommended Chirk, hitching the bridle of Coate’s horse to the gatepost. ‘No one ain’t blaming you if it is!’

  Rose, who had been gazing at him for the last few minutes as though she doubted the evidence of her eyes, exclaimed faintly: ‘It is you! Whatever are we coming to?’ and sat down suddenly on the bench behind her.

  ‘Willitoft!’ repeated the spare man. ‘I represent the Trustees of the Derbyshire Tolls!’

  ‘Oh, lord!’ ejaculated the Captain ruefully. ‘Now the cat’s in the cream pot!’

  ‘Yes, fellow, it is! Indeed it is!’ said Mr Willitoft. ‘How dare you let these persons through the pike without payment? Two led horses as well! Three ruffians – ruffians, I say! – and –’

  ‘Give them a couple of tickets, Bab!’ said the Captain.

  ‘You keep your tickets for them as may need ’em!’ interposed Stogumber, who was still bestriding the landlord’s cob. ‘I’m employed on Government business, and I don’t pay tolls, not in any county!’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ declared Mr Willitoft, bristling with suspicion. ‘You’re a hardened scoundrel! I knew you for a rogue the instant I laid eyes on you!’

  ‘Ho!’ said Stogumber. ‘You did, did you? Then p’raps you’ll be so obliging as to cast your wapper eyes over that afore you says something as you’ll be sorry for!’

  Mr Willitoft, reading the information inscribed on the grubby sheet of paper handed down to him, looked very much taken aback, and even a little daunted. In a milder tone, he exclaimed: ‘Bow Street! God bless my soul! Very well, I demand no tax from you! But this fellow here is another matter!’ he added, looking with disfavour at Chirk.

  ‘He ain’t neither,’ said Stogumber. ‘He’s working for me.’

  ‘Miss Nell,’ said Rose, in a hollow voice, ‘I am going to have a Spasm! I can feel it coming on!’

  ‘Oh, don’t do that!’ said John, who, having tethered his horses, had limped up to them. He took Nell’s hands, and held them in his firm, comforting clasp. ‘My poor girl!’ he said gently. ‘I wish I might have been beside you when it happened!’

  ‘You know, then? I came to tell you, and to ask you what I should do now. Just at the end, he knew me, and smiled, and, oh, John, he winked at me, and with such a look in his eye!’

  ‘Did he? What a right one he was!’ John said warmly. ‘He made up his mind he would live to accomplish one task, and, by Jove, he did accomplish it! You mustn’t grieve, my darling: he knew all was well, and he was glad to be done with his life.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been telling her, sir,’ agreed Rose. ‘Not even Mr Winkfield wished him to drag on longer! Oh, for goodness’ sake, sir, whatever is my Jerry doing, as bold as brass? Such palpitations as it’s giving me I shall very likely go off in a swoon!’

  ‘No need for that: he’s turned respectable, and is about to set up as a farmer. Mrs Staple and I are coming to dance at your wedding.’

  ‘Oh, Rose, I am so glad!’ Nell said. ‘But is that man indeed from Bow Street, John? What were you doing in his company, and why are you limping? Good God, can it be – John, what does it mean?’

  ‘Nothing disagreeable,’ he assured her. ‘It’s too long a story to tell you now, but you have no longer anything to dread, my brave girl! I’ll tell you later, but I think I had better first get rid of this waspish fellow who wants my blood, don’t you?’

  An involuntary chuckle escaped her. ‘Poor Mr Babbacombe tried his best to fob him off, and I did, too, but there was no getting him to listen to a word we said. And then Tisbury came, with his cow, and they quarrelled over him! Mr Babbacombe told Willitoft that if he knew so much about tolls he might mind the pike himself, and welcome! I thought Willitoft was going into convulsions, he was so angry!’

  Mr Willitoft appeared still to be in this condition. As John limped back to him, he stabbed an accusing finger at him, and said: ‘You have no right here! You are an improper person to be in charge of the gate! You have no authority! You are an interloper, and an impostor, and I shall have you arrested!’

  ‘Well, I have no authority,’ admitted John, ‘but I don’t think I deserve to be arrested! I haven’t robbed the trustees, you know! In fact, if you like to take the strong-box I’ll fetch it out to you.’

  ‘Look ’ee here, Mr Willipop!’ said Stogumber severely. ‘I wouldn’t advise you to say no more about improper persons being in charge of this here gate, because your trustees took and authorized a cove as was very highly improper indeed to mind it for ’em. He’s snuffed it now, but p’raps you’d like to know as he was hand-in-glove with them as committed a daring robbery in these parts not so long ago – which I shall set down in my report!’

  Mr Willitoft looked quite dumbfounded by this intelligence, but having stared first at the Runner, then at John, and lastly, and with loathing, at Babbacombe, he said that he should require proof of the accusation. ‘And I fail to understand what that may have to do with my finding that dandy here! I won’t permit him to remain, I say!’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to remain,’ said Mr Babbacombe. ‘And if you call me a dandy again, you antiquated old fidget, I’ll dashed well take off my coat, and show you how much of a dandy I am!’

  ‘Officer!’ cried Mr Willitoft. ‘I call on you to witness that this fellow has offered me violence!’

  ‘Well, you hadn’t better,’ responded Stogumber. ‘I never heard him offer you no violence! Nice thing if a cove can’t take his coat off without a silly nodcock calling on us Runners to stop him!’

  ‘That’s the barber!’ said Chirk approvingly. ‘Dang me if you ain’t a great gun, Redbreast!’

  ‘Insolence!’ fumed Mr Willitoft.

  Stogumber jerked his chin at John, who went to him, a good deal of amusement in his face.

  ‘We don’t want no trouble with this Willipop,’ said Stogumber, in an undervoice. ‘You leave me take him up to the Blue Boar, Capting! I’ll have to tell him what made you stop on here like you have done, but you won’t care for that, I daresay.’

  ‘Not a bit! I shall be much obliged to you if you take him away. He’s a tiresome fellow!’

  Mr Stogumber nodded, and addressed himself to Mr Willitoft. ‘It’s me as is answerable for the Capting here staying to mind the pike, and very helpful he’s been. If you was to come along o’ me to my temp’ry headquarters, which is the inn up the road, I’ll tell you what’ll make you take a very different view of this business, Mr Willipop.’

  ‘My name,’ said the incensed Mr Willitoft, ‘is not Willipop but Willitoft! And I will not under any circumstances permit this person to remain in charge of the gate!’

  ‘If you mean me,’ said the Captain, ‘I can’t remain in charge of it. I’m leaving it today – immediately, in fact!’

  This unexpected announcement threw Mr Willitoft off his balance. ‘You cannot walk off and leave the gate unattended!’ he said indignantly.

  ‘Not only can, but will,’ said John cheerfully.

  ‘But this goes beyond everything! Upon my soul, such effrontery I never thought to meet with! You will stay until the trustees appoint a man in Brean’s place!’

  ‘Oh, no, I won’t! I’m tired of gatekeeping!’ John replied. ‘Besides, I don’t like you, and I don’t feel at all inclined to oblige you.’

  ‘Oblige – Well – But someone must stay here!’

  ‘That’s all right, old bubble!’ said Chirk. ‘I’ll mind it for you! But don’t you waste no time sending a new man, because it wouldn’t suit me to stop here for long. Gatekeeping is low, and I’m a man o’ substance!’

  ‘Now I am going to suffer a Spasm!’ uttered Rose.

  Mr Willitoft did not look to be any too well satisfied with this solution to his problem, but since nothing better offered he was obliged, however ungraciously, to acquiesce. He then mounted into the gig, and was driven back to Crowfo
rd. Stogumber, pausing only to tell John that he would be returning later, followed him; and Mr Babbacombe was at last free to deliver himself of his free and unflattering estimate of his best friend’s character.

  ‘Well, of all the infamous things!’ protested John. ‘I never asked you to look after the gate today! Why the devil didn’t you leave it to the boy? Where is Ben?’

  ‘You may well ask!’ said Mr Babbacombe. ‘All I know is that he was here when I arrived, over an hour ago! I went in to wait for you, and he must have gone off then, for I hadn’t been in the dashed place above fifteen minutes when some fellow out here started shouting gate! By the time he’d shouted it a dozen times, I could have strangled him! Told him so. In fact, we had a bit of a turn-up.’

  ‘Do you mean to tell me you’ve been fighting everyone who wanted to pass through the gate?’ demanded John.

  ‘No, not everyone. I planted that fellow a facer, but that’s all.’

  ‘Except for telling the doctor’s man that you had something better to do than to keep on opening the gate,’ interpolated Nell, with a mischievous look. ‘And I made that right! I’m afraid Ben seized the opportunity to play truant, John.’

  ‘Young varmint! He probably slipped off to help the ostler groom your horses, Bab. That’s what he wanted to do, when I made him stay here.’

  ‘What?’ ejaculated Mr Babbacombe, in lively dismay.

  ‘Oh, don’t be afraid! He’s very good with horses. With all animals, Huggate tells me. I shall have to try if I can induce one of my tenant-farmers to take charge of him until he’s old enough to work under Cocking,’ John said, wrinkling his brow. ‘I wonder –’

  ‘If it’s all the same to you, Soldier,’ interrupted Chirk, ‘seeing as his dad’s hopped the twig, and his brother ain’t likely to want him, even if he was to come home, which I daresay he won’t, I’ll take young Ben, and bring him up decent. He’s a likely lad, and if it hadn’t been for him opening the door to me the very first night I see you, Soldier, I never would have seen you, and, consequent, I wouldn’t be setting up for myself respectable, nor marrying Rose neither. So, if Rose ain’t got no objection, we’ll take Benny along with us.’

  ‘Certainly we will!’ Rose said, a martial light in her eye. ‘Many’s the time, since his mother died, I’ve wanted to give him a good wash, poor little fellow, and mend his clothes, and teach him his manners!’

  ‘Well, he may not relish that overmuch,’ said John, grinning, ‘but there’s no doubt he’d far rather be with Jerry than with me.’

  ‘John,’ said Nell, who had been frowning at the horses, ‘why have you brought those two horses here? That brown belongs to my cousin, and the bay is Coate’s!’

  ‘Well, yes, dearest! The thing is – but let us go into the house! At least, I must stable Beau first!’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Chirk. ‘And since I’m going to stay here, I’ll take Mollie too.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ suggested Nell, ‘Rose should go with you to explain the matter to Huggate.’

  ‘I think she should,’ agreed the Captain. ‘And then come into the house, Jerry, so that we may drink both your healths!’ He ushered his wife and his friend in as he spoke, and when he had them both safely inside the kitchen, said bluntly: ‘There’s a great deal I shall have to tell you presently, but for the moment only one thing of importance! Both Coate and Stornaway are dead.’

  Nell could only blink at him, but Mr Babbacombe was in no mood to submit to such treatment, and said, with a good deal of asperity: ‘Oh, they are, are they? Then you may dashed well tell us how that came about, and what you had to do with it, Jack! I can tell only by looking at you that you’ve been up to some harebrained fetch, so out with it!’

  ‘Oh, later, later, Bab!’ the Captain said, frowning at him. ‘What I need is beer!’

  ‘Very well,’ said Nell, removing from his grasp the tankard he had picked up from the shelf. ‘I will draw you some beer, but not one sip shall you have until you do as Mr Babbacombe bids you! He is very right! And if you suppose, sir, that you can walk in with a graze on your forehead, blood on your waistcoat, and a lame foot, without explaining to me how you came by all these things, you will very soon learn better!’

  ‘Good God, I’ve married a shrew!’ said the Captain, playing for time, while he mentally expunged from his story certain features, and materially revised others.

  ‘John, how did my cousin come by his death?’

  ‘He was shot when Coate’s gun exploded.’

  ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘No, Nell. On my word as a gentleman I did not!’

  ‘I shouldn’t have cared a button if you had,’ she said calmly. ‘Did you kill Coate?’

  ‘Coate broke his neck – falling on a natural rock stair. I wish you will let me have my beer!’

  She looked enquiringly at Mr Babbacombe. ‘You know him much better than I do: do you think he did kill Coate?’

  ‘Of course he did!’ said Mr Babbacombe scornfully. ‘Knew it the instant he told us the fellow was dead! Probably didn’t kill your cousin, though. Didn’t seem to have any such notion in his head when he talked to me about it.’

  She gave the Captain his beer, and, taking his free hand, lifted it to her cheek. ‘I wish Grandpapa had known!’ she said simply. ‘He would have been so delighted! Now tell us, if you please, John, just how it all happened!’

  About the Author

  Author of over fifty books, Georgette Heyer is one of the best-known and best-loved of all historical novelists, making the Regency period her own. Her first novel, The Black Moth, published in 1921, was written at the age of seventeen to amuse her convalescent brother; her last was My Lord John. Although most famous for her historical novels, she also wrote twelve detective stories. Georgette Heyer died in 1974 at the age of seventy-one.