These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other, break some gallows back.
—2 HENRY IV. IV. 3.
Master Daniel Pye had certainly thought it wiser—after that precipitous exit from the master tailor's house—to watch and to await events. He had been wholly taken by surprise at M. Legros' reception of his news, and staggered at the thought that where he had sought a patron, or at least an ally, he had found an active enemy.
He soon learned that preparations were being actively pushed forward in the house of the Rue de l'Ancienne Comédie for the journey of the master and his daughter to England. Pye and his interpreter, therefore, well-disguised and travelling as the poorest of men in the wake of their betters, reached Dover by the same packet boat that had brought the Legros hither. While the latter took rest at a small hostelry in the town, awaiting the day when a stage-coach would take them to London, Pye made his way straight to the great city, using what humble conveyances he contrived to hire for some portions of the road.
The yard of Savage's Bell Inn near Lud Gate was the halting place of the stage-coach from Dover, and thither Pye repaired on those afternoons—three days in the week—when a complement of voyagers from France were expected. It was quite simple, and within forty-eight hours Pye found his patience rewarded and his worst fears justified. The good tailor had obviously come to London in order to warn Lord Stowmaries of the mischief that was brewing against him.
Fortunately Pye had his false information against my lord ready, even before he had set out for Paris. His friend, the Huguenot clerk, had writ out the deposition in a good round hand, and Daniel Pye had sworn to it before a commissioner. All he had to do now was to lodge it with Sir Edmund Berry Godfrey, who had already received the sworn depositions of Titus Oates and of Tongue.
Lord Stowmaries' name also figured on the Oates indictment as one of those who were said to have been present at the famous "consult" whereat the Duke of York was offered the crown of England by the Catholic peers of this realm at the express desire of the Pope of Rome.
Daniel Pye had incontinently sworn to everything that had been asked of him. He pretended a close intimacy with my lord of Stowmaries, and was prepared to take all the solemn oaths that were required to the effect that he had overheard my lord express loudly every kind of treasonable wish—notably that of seeing the king duly poisoned by his physician.
But for all these false accusations, Pye presently discovered that he could only get about £20 as a reward, and that only if the indictment was proved on evidence. The commissioners had already told him that in order to bring his accusations home it were better that another witness came forward to swear to the same story. This is where the help of the French tailor or of the wench would have been so useful for—as luck and his own eagerness would have it—Pye had declared in his original affidavit that he had overheard my lord Stowmaries' treasonable conversations at a hostelry in Paris.
Pye had thought thereby to give more verisimilitude to his story, and even Master Tongue had approved of this plan, when he heard the man declaring emphatically that the tailor's daughter would only be too ready to swear away the life of the man whom she must hate with all the bitter sense of an overwhelming wrong.
Thus therefore did the accusation stand. Master Daniel Pye had sworn that when he was at the hostelry of the "Rat Mort," in Paris, on April 19th of this same year of grace, he had overheard my lord of Stowmaries talking—with one of the ministers of the King of France—of the terms of a treaty whereby the Papist peers of England would acclaim the Duke of York as King of England and vassal of the Pope, and receive a subsidy of five million livres from King Louis for their pains.
It was indeed a splendid story. No wonder that Master Pye was over-pleased with it; he had added the final touch of apparent truth to it by stating that M. Legros—a French subject—and his daughter—the reputed and repudiated wife of the accused—were also present at the "Rat Mort" on that occasion and had also overheard this conversation, and would testify as to the verity thereof.
Imagine the disappointment, the vexation, nay, the grave fears now engendered in Master Pye's mind at thought that the tailor and his wench meant to frustrate his schemes completely, and not only to throw discredit on the elaborate accusation, but even mayhap to prejudice the payment of that meagre reward of £20.
When Master Legros, accompanied by his daughter arrived at the Bell Inn, Daniel Pye was at first seized with a mad desire to try and influence them yet once again in his own favour. Remember that Pye was little more than an uncouth peasant, with just as much knowledge of other people's natures as he had gleaned through daily contact with his own underlings.
He could not get it into his head that the Legros really meant to forego the happy sensation of a complete revenge, and half thought that, mayhap, they had misunderstood the whole scheme during that stormy interview in the back shop, when there was so much talk of stick and of dog-whip, and not nearly enough of just reward for a great service rendered.
At the last moment, however, when Legros had alighted from the coach and had somewhat impatiently ordered beds and board, Daniel Pye's heart misgave him, and he felt afraid to encounter the irascible little tailor's wrath.
Once more he sought out his friend, the needy and out-at-elbows Huguenot clerk, and offered him a shilling to go the next morning to the Bell Inn and to watch the Legros' movements. Quite a goodly amount of Master Pye's savings were now dwindling away in this direction.
"Do you try and get speech with the tailor," he said to the young scribe, "and try by your great skill to make him believe that you would wish to serve him, seeing that you have quarrelled with me and are now penniless. These people must of a truth be friendless and lonely in London; who knows but that they may take you as their guide, in which case all you need do is to try and prevent by every means in your power that they have speech with Lord Stowmaries for the next few days. Once my lord is duly arrested on our information, strangers will, of course, have no access to him; the trials we know are to be hurried through very quickly and there would then be no fear of our losing our just rewards."
Well schooled in the part which he had to play, the Huguenot clerk duly installed himself just outside the gates of the yard of the Bell Inn on the following morning, and by ten o'clock he had the satisfaction of seeing Master Legros obviously bent on obtaining information, and wandering for that purpose somewhat disconsolately about the yard, seeing that no one there was able to converse with him in his own tongue.
This was the clerk's opportunity. He slipped through the gate, and doffing his soft cap, humbly accosted the foreign gentleman.
"Can I be of service, Master?" he said in French. "I am an interpreter by trade."
"And if I mistake not," replied the tailor suspiciously, "you are one of two damned blackguards who came to my house in Paris with some lying tale of Papist conspiracy against my lord Stowmaries, some few days ago."
"Hush, hush, good Master, I entreat you," quoth the clerk with well-feigned alarm, and throwing quick, furtive glances around him; "the subject is not one which must be discussed aloud just now."
"And why, sirrah, must it not be discussed aloud?"
"Because to call yourself a Papist just now, my Master, is synonymous to proclaiming yourself a traitor. Your very life would not be safe in this yard. A reign of terror hath set in in England. The peaceful citizens themselves go about the streets carrying flails hidden in the pockets of their breeches to defend themselves against the Jesuits. Nay, Master, an your business is not urgent, I entreat you to return to France, ere you or your daughter come to any harm."
"My business with my lord Stowmaries is urgent," said Legros with characteristic hot-headed impulsiveness; "an you'll direct me to his house, there'll be a shilling or mayhap two for you."
"In the name of Heaven, good Master," ejaculated the clerk in an agonised whisper, "do not speak that name aloud. My lord is in very bad odour. His arrest is imminent and all his friends are like to fare as badly as himself."
"All the more reason why I should speak with him at once. So now, sirrah! Wilt earn that shilling and direct me to his house, or wilt thou not?"
"Alas, kind sir, I am a poor man, a starving man since that traitor, Daniel Pye, hath turned against me, seeing that I would not aid him in his conspiracies. And I'll gladly earn a shilling, kind sir, and direct you to the house of my lord Stowmaries, an you will deign to place yourself under my protection."
Truly Master Legros had no cause not to accept the clerk's offer. However villainous the man's conduct might or might not be, there could be no harm in accepting his escort in broad daylight as far as the house of my lord of Stowmaries.
Legros was a complete stranger in the English city, which he thought overwhelmingly vast and terribly dirty. He had heard many tales of the plague in London, and though this had occurred thirteen years ago, he still thought the place infected and mistrusted the hackney coaches and carrying chairs which were plying the streets for hire.
After hurried consultation with his daughter, he decided that no harm could come of being escorted by the clerk through the streets of London. The latter spoke French and would be vastly useful, and he could easily be dismissed, once my Lord Stowmaries' house had been reached.
Good M. Legros was suffering from an unusually severe attack of chronic fussiness. He could not have sat still another hour, and was for starting immediately for my lord's house. Rose Marie had no reason for wishing to put off that interview, the thought of which she abhorred more and more strongly as the time for its occurrence drew nigh.
She was conscious of a desire to get it over, to put finality between the inevitable and her own ever-rebellious hopes. For her parents' sake she wanted to see Lord Stowmaries grateful and yielding; for her own she almost wished that he remained obdurate. She would gladly have purchased her freedom at the price of more bitter humiliation than she had yet endured, yet she had set herself the task of purchasing the content and happiness of those she cared for at the price of her freedom and the most bitter of all humiliation.
These contradictory thoughts and wishes fretted her and rendered her nervous and agitated. But at her father's bidding, she was ready to make a start.
When Legros once more came down into the courtyard, dressed for the momentous visit, and with his daughter on his arm, the Huguenot clerk was nowhere to be seen. He soon reappeared, however, almost breathless from fast running, but seemingly ready to accompany the distinguished foreign visitors withersoever they wished to go.
He had just had time in the interim to consult with Master Daniel Pye as to what had best be done.
"If I do not take that accursed tailor over to my lord Stowmaries, some one else will for sure," he said disconsolately.
"Let me think for a moment," quoth Pye, with an anxious frown on his lowering brow. "I understand that the arrest of my lord is imminent—if only we can put off this meddlesome Frenchman for to-day, I do verily believe that all will be well. For the nonce you had best tell him that my lord Stowmaries is from home, but is expected daily, hourly, to return. Thus we might gain twenty-four hours, for you would tell the same tale again in the afternoon—after that your wits should give you counsel. Am I not paying you that they should be of service to me?"
Thus it was that when the clerk arrived breathless in the yard of the Bell Inn, where Master Legros was impatiently awaiting him, he excused himself for his absence on the grounds that he had—surely with commendable forethought—taken the precaution to make enquiries as to whether my lord of Stowmaries was at home.
"My lord's house is some distance from here," he explained, "and I thought to save you and the fair mistress a fruitless walk through the city."
"Then 'twas mightily officious of you, sirrah?" quoth the irascible tailor, "to meddle with what doth not concern you."
"Zeal in your service prompted me, good master, and as my lord of Stowmaries is from home, I have the honour of saving you much fatigue."
"My lord is from home, did you say?" queried Legros in a tone of obvious disappointment.
"Ay, good master; but his servants expect to see him back to-morrow."
"We will find out for ourselves, Father dear, when my lord is expected home," here interposed Rose Marie, with her usual quiet air of decision; "no doubt there are others in London besides this same officious clerk who will guide us to his house."
We may imagine that at this point the pious young Huguenot formulated an inward but very emphatic "Damn!" cursing the interference of young damsels and their impatient ways.
Not having his principal to consult with, he was momentarily thrown on his own resources of wit and of readiness. This was certainly an occasion when the devil should aid those who serve him well. The clerk had only a very slight moment of hesitation, then a brilliant idea seemed to strike him, for his wizened face brightened up visibly.
"Fair Mistress," he said in tones of respectful reproach, "far be it from me to shirk my duty toward you. An you'll permit me I'll escort you to the house of my lord of Stowmaries forthwith."
"Then, why so much talking, sirrah," rejoined Papa Legros. "March, and briskly, too. I have a convenient stick which oft works wonders in making laggards walk briskly. Go ahead; my daughter and I will follow.”