The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 22, 1903, Page 2

This is the second installment of “The Master of Appleby,” a new novel with a love mystery that will baffie you to the end of the very last chapter. “Who finally wins beauti- ful -Madge Stair—Sir Francis Falcon- net, Jennifer or “The Master of Ap- pleby?” pyright by the Bowen-Merrill Co. § It they were quick echoes, other crashings followed, as of chairs flung back; and then the window d with crowd- that T had I had fallen, but I looking from a m into the belly of the night, ng. Then Captain Steuart his dragoon horseholde: Tom Garget: this way, man!” he 4 when he had no answer, put the window seat to clamber while T was movement, that I parchment in his above me fil ing figures. I lie quiet above. mary those eg across Twas in the very act the chance I had prayed for. had clattered down b it 1 sprang afoot and circle by my doughty cap- ade him cringe and gasp e out upon me. The bit luttered down, and in & t safe. k small of me, if so you 2 T confess what fol was arget’s sword an is braver th tle stomach fc tw three u ed men. Her & bold sortie for stride the horse, and. Then, with 1 all he blow » my skul. ad been VI N Wi i TAS' THE QUALITY OF MERCY 5, re be to fetch a stunned senses, as they will tell you » e rack a d; one 1s n the cracking . r cordials to the vic- m o> give the straining ek T er twist. It was not the t captors took, a&s you i when I came to know a el sgain & pair of them kick me and I was sore i 2 buffetings » . between my berty and this harsh ng of me back to not teil. It must r more, for now a b ng pale above the tree- ind were bivouac fires to show that in the come and camped. e great foreroom of ted, too. A sen- nd forth before the nadier by the size and when the two in, and I had eyes accustomed 1 saw the table had bottles and glasses, and were some lighthorse chanced, this was my first, sight n that British command noulders. His eves 14 his face, well un, was swart I thought, who harsh-revenge- hould prompt; who well-turned courtier compli- s damn a trooper in wa t Colonel Banaster Tarle- no quarter to surrendered en 1 looked into the sice- w in them for me a waiting ved out, when T was haled ing rebe! cap- to hang?” so sorely re the sp: urtesy rasped ds give place to wrath ply that there was small st of it, since 1 could stand and curse d at that and cursed me back r as any fishwife. Then ed his tune ou were in the service norably. I am loth to has worn the colors. best to die a soldier's o8t surely, have the boon if I what an officer on the aff should know; the inentals, the general's sitions, and I know not I think it was my laugh n p short and damn me » the midst. I'll make you laugh another swore. “You rebels are all of piece, and clemency is wasted on you!" Your mercy comes too dear; you set high & price upon it, Colonel Tarleton. for the mere SWapping of a rope for a pullet 1 could be the poor caitiff your offer implies, hanging would be too good for me” If that is your last word— But stay; 11l give you an hour to think it over. It needs not an hour nor a minute,” I replied. If I knew aught about the Con- inental srmy—which I do mot—T'd see vou hanged in vour own stirrup-leather before 1'd_tell you, . Colonel Tarleton. Moreover, I marvel grestly—" m “At what?’ he cut in rudely. our informant’s lack of Invention. ht have brought me straight from Washington’s haedquarters while about it. 'Twould be no greater that he told you.” d me through, then fell to curs- e afresh, and would be sending an camp hotfoot for Falconnet. le the messenger was going and coming there was a chance for me to k around like a poor trapped animal in a pi loath to die without a struggle, vet seeing not how any less inglorious end should offer. The search went for little of encouragement; there was no chance either to fight or fly. But apart from this, the probing of the shadows re- vealed a thing that set me suddenly in a er, first of rage, and then of apprehen- sion As T have said, this gathering room of our old house was in size like an ancient banquet hall. 1t had a gable to itself in breadth and height, and at the farther end there was a flight of some few steps to reach the older portion of the house beyond. T of this low stalr th of the older house, pierced th an the shado of the niche thus formed 1 saw y Margery was standing as one who looks and listens; and my blazed out upon descrying of a shadowy figure of & nd her; a man I guessed in jeal- wrath to be the Baronet—a reasonless cion, since the volunteer captain certainly have made his presence n his colonel had called him. fle my heart was yet afire my ed aside as if to have a better of us below, and then I saw it was iest behind her. le I was watching her, and we wers g vet upon the aid de camp’s re- there was a stir without, and when t reached the door the sentry challenged. confab followed, and I overheard gh to tell me that a scouting party come in, bringing a prisoner. The colonel b me stand aside, and passed the fetch the prisoner before him. hing was done I set my teeth For it was Richard Jen- wor: did not single me out among fresh come from e glare of candle- d him with questions I had a ok him up and down. Though was still in its sling, he was the better of his wound. There strength return- and 1 thought him r what time he stood i fronted down the buily- colonel ng the Jennifer stock and its fine terfuge, I feared it would go chard, and so, indeed, it had g a word in season from an ren Tarleton would have made Know between taking of the , and captivi the hulks at a burly Hessian captain at e spoke the word in season. ammt! mine colonel; I vill know Yenifer. He is and he Give a prave young is not gone out mit him to me for mine hed and showed his one man to hang, he could e lenient with another. t 1 you do with him, Captain Lauswoulter? By the look of him he'd ke but indifferent sausage meat.” Vat shall I do mit him? I shall make ne best bows and send him home, Ve did had some liddle troubles d ven mine foot was rdammt grease grass, he not run me t'rough so like he might.” Oh, an affair of homor? Well, n count that in his favor. Take him away Trelawny, and quarter yourself and twen but, b; 0 much as hang you your parole, Mr. Jennifer, rd. u b k it own ridge v i hear spoiled it all t er would have ng hotly he had given no parole, the word the colonel roared him down like a bull of in the hubbub my brave lad t out. ugh I was full to bursting with my news th was nothing I could do; and when he was gone w fairly over an I was right glad he had not seen me. For I knew well his steel-true loyalty and that sight of me in trouble he would have lost s slender chance of guarded liberty, and with it my last hope of send- ing word across the mountains; though as for that the hope was well-nigh dead at any rate. While Jennifer’s guard and quota were ing at the door the aid-de-camp re- d, and that without the Baronet. I it e and there a word of his report—enough to gather that the captain. kmight was not yet in from posting out the sentries. I made no doubt his absence was de- signed. He would have Margery believe that he had spared me honorably as an enemy wounded, and so had left me to the tender mercies of his colonel, well assured that Tarleton would not spare me. And this the colonel did not mean to do, as I was now to hear in brief. “You put a bold front on, Captain Tre- caug! ton, but 'tis to no purpose this time,” he began. *“'Tis charged against you that you rode here from the Baron’s camp with your commission {n your pocket, and came and went within our lines like any other spy. You are a soldier, sir, and you know that’s hanging. Yet I will hear you if you've anything to say.” I made so sure that I should hang In any case that it seemed foolish to an- swer, and so I saved my breath. Withal he was the terror of our southland, this tyrant colonel gave me time to consider; and while he waited, grim and silent, the candles on the table guttered and ran down and the dim light failed untfl I could no longer see the face of her I loved framed in the archway of the stair. I thought it hard that I had seen my last of her sweet face thus through thick- ening shadows, as a dream might fade. Nevertheless, I would be glad that I had seen her thus, since otherwise, I thought, I must have gone without this last or any other sight of her. It was while 1 was still straining my eyes for one more glimpse of her and while the courtroom silence deepened dense upon us like the shadows, thgt Col- onel Tarleton signed to those who guard- ed me. A hand was lald upon my shoul- der, but when I would have turned to go with them a woman's cry cut sharp Into the stillness. Then, before any one could say a word or think a thought, my daunt- less little lady stood beside me, her eyes alight and all her glorious beauty height- ened in a blaze of generous emotion. “For shame! Colonel . Tarletcn,” she cried. “Do you come thus into my fath- er's house and take a wounded guest and - hang him? You say he is & spy, but that he cannot be, for he has lain abed’in this same house a month or more. You shall not hang him!” v At this there was a mighty stir about the table, as you may guess; and some would smile and some would snuff the candles for e better sight of her sweet face. And through it all, the while my heart went near to bursting at this frest proof of her most fearless loyalty, 1 ground my teeth in wrath that all those men should look their fill and say by wink and nod and covert smile that this were somewhat more than hostess loy- alty. But it was the colonel's mocking smile that lashed me sharpest; his smile and what he sald: and yet not that so much as what he left to be inferred. “Ha! How is this, Mistress Margery? Do you keep open house for the King's enemies? That spells treason, my dear young lady, and hath an ugly look for you, besides.” “It should have no look at all, save that of hospitality, sir,” she countered brave- ly. “Surely I may plead for justice to a wounded man who was, and is, my fath- er's guest?”’ “And yet he is a spy, and sples must hang.” “He is no spy.” The colonel's bow made but a mock of true politeness. “You should not make me contradict a lady, Mistress Margery. 'Tis evident you have not all his confidence. He was cap- tured red-handed in the act at yonder window, listening to fhat which he may never know and live to prate abopt. Be- sides, he killed a sentry for his chance to listen, and for that I'd hang him if he were my own father's guest.” So much he said as mild as if he had not left his reading of the law tb figure in our annals as King George's butcher. Then in a sudden gust of rage he turned upon the priest, cursing him brutally and threatening vengeance for his bringing of the lady to the courtroom. My brave one stood a moment, shocked as she had warrant for. Then, before the priest or I or any one could stop her, she ran to throw herself upon her knees at Colonel Tarleton's feet—to kneel and plead for me as I would gladly have died a thousand deaths rather than have her plead; for life for me, or if not that, at least for some brief respite that the priest might shrive me. And in the end she won the respite, though I did think it far too dearly bought. When he granted it the colonel lifted her and took her hand, bowing low over it with courtly deference. “For your sake, Mistress Margery, It shall be put off -till morning,” he said; then gave the order: At dawn they would march me out and hang me, and I would ‘best be ready. For later than the sunrise of a new day the king himself might not de- lay my taking off. “You know too much, my cursing cap- tain,” was his parting word. “Were it mot for Mistress Margery and my prom- ise, should not keep the breath to tell it over night.” CHAPTER IX. HOW A GOLDEN KEY UNLOCKED A DOOR. Having my dismissal and reprieve I was remanded to the custody of that young Ijeutenant Tybee whom you have met and known as Falconnet's second in the duel. Interpreting his orders liberally he suffered me to keep my own room for the night. I had expected manacles and a roommate guard at the least, but my gentlemanly jailer spared me both. When he had me safe abovestairs he barred the door upon me, set a sentry pacing back and forth in the corridor without and another to keep an eye upon the win- dow from below, and so left me. There was no great need for either sentry, or for bolts and bars. What with the night's adventures and my scarce- healed wound I was far sped on that road which ends against the blind wall of exhaustion, as you may well suppose. For while a man may borrow strength of wine or rage or passion, these lenders are but pitiless usurers and will demand their pound of flesh; aye, and have it, too, when all the principal s spent. To me in the grim Doubting Castle of despair the priest came. He was a good man and true, this low voiced missioner to the savages, and he would be a curster man that I who failed to give him his due meed.of praise and love. For in’this dismal interval of waiting, with death so sure and near that all the air was grow- ing chill and lifeless at its presence, he was ready to help me in time of need. ‘When he was gone I fell to wearing out the time afoot: and, lest you think me harder than I was, it may be said that while I did not make confession to the kindly priest, I hope I tried to make my peace with God In some such simpler fashion as our forebears did. 'Twas none so_great a matter, for one who lives a soldier’s life must needs be ripe for pluck- ing hastily. But in the final casting of accounts there was an item written down In red, and; one in black, and these would not be scored across for all the travail of a soul departing. The one in black was bitter sorrow for the fate from which I might not live to save my loved one; the one in red was this—that I should die carry hence the knowledge that :u:ht elze nip the Indian onfall in the ud. No sooner was the priest away than T began to upbraid myself because I had not told him- of this British-Indian mur- der plan. And yet on second thought ‘twas clear that it had been but a poor shifting of the burden to weaker shoul- ders; and thankless, too, for Tarleton ‘would be sure to put him on the question rack to make him tell of all that passed between us. As I had let him go he would have naught to tell, and so was safe, where otherwise he might be hanged or buried in the hulks for knowing what I knew. No, it were best he knew it not; but how was I to rid me of this burden?—of this and of that other laid upon me for my love? The question asked itself many a time, and was as often answerless, before thers came a stir without and voices in the corridor, It was the changing of the guard, I guessed, and so it proved, since presently I heard the clanking of the offi- cer's sword and double footfalls minish- ing into silence. The sentry newly come paced back and forth to a low hummed quickstep of his own, bestirring himself as one who, roused but now from sleep, would wake himself and be alert. He made more nolse than did the other, and that is why I marked it when the foot- falls ceased abruptly. A moment after- ward the bar was lifted cautiously from its socket, the latch clicked gently and the door swung open. I looked and must needs look again to make assurance sure. For on the threshold stood my lady Mar- gery, and just behind her some broad figure of a woman whom I knew for her stout Norman tiring mald. She gave me little time for my word of welcome or of deprecation. While still T stood amazed she dragged the woman in with her and closed the door. At that I found my tongue. o Ty, why have you come?” I spoke in French, and she was quick to lay a finger on her lip. s “Speak to me in English, if you please,” she vhlfp«utt ‘Jeanne knows nothing, and she ‘need not know. But you ask why I come: could I do less than come, dear friend?” I had led that she could ‘be 50 mocking hard at times, and at other times—as now—so soft and gentle. And though I thought it cruel that I should have to fight my battle for the losing of her over again, I had not the heart to chide her. “You could have done much less, dear lady,” I said, taking her hands in mine; “much less, and still be biameless. You have done too much for me already. I would you had not done so much, I would to God I had been hanged before you went upon your knees to that—" She freed one hand and laid a finger on my lip—nay, it was her palm, and if I took a dying man's fair leave and kissed 1t softly, I think she knew it not. ‘Hush!” she commanded. “Is this a time to harbor bitter thoughts? I thought you might have other things to say to me, Monsieur John.” “There is no other thing “Not anything at all?” “Naught but @ parting hope for you. I hope you will be true and loyal to your- Margery mia.” 5 "To m;felf? I do mot undarlund.“ “I think you do—I think you must. “But I do not.” I turned it over mors than once in my mind if I should tell her all I had feared; should tell her how I came to kill 2 man and was fair set to kill anothgr had I found a wedding afoot in the great fore- room. I could not bring myself to do it, and yet I thought it would go hard with me it I should leave her still unwarned. “If 1 should try to make you under- stand you will be angry, as you were be- fore.” The wicker chalr was close beside the table and she sat down. And when she spoke she had her hands tight-clasped across her knee and would not look at me. it—about—Sir Francis?” «Jt is,” sald I, pausing once more upon the brink of full confession. She waited patiently for me to speak further; waited and let me it out In slow pacings up and down befors her r. Chlulhlnk my lady must have known how hard it was for me to speak, for, when the silence had grown overlong, she said genuy: “I bought these flying minutes of the sentry, Monsieur John. Wil you not use them?” “I¢ 1 should say the thing I ought to say, you'll think the minutes dearly bought, I fear.” “No, that I shall not, ind."” m"Then tell me why you sent for Father Matthieu.” The light was dim, as I have said, yet I could see the faint flush spread from neck to cheek. “You are not of the church, Monsieur John. You would not understand if I should tell you.” “I think I understand without your tell- ing. You said Sir Francis Falconnet had asked for you.” “'Twas you who drove me to say it.” “Because I trfed.to warn you?” “Because you would be vengeful when u should have been forgiving.” “'Twas not revenge, just then, though while I live I shall have ample cause to hate this man.” “What was {t, then?” that I may 1f it will ease you “It was love; love for you, and—and Richard Jennifer.” She rose, and I could see her eyes ashine for all the half-gloom of ft candle- light. “You are a loyal friend!” she said, and there was that within the words to make me glad, whatever fate the dawn should have In store for me. You always think of others first; you think of others- now, when—when death—Oh, Monsieur John! what can I do for you? Say quick! The man is coming to the door!” “Now I have told you this, there is but one other thing, Margery dear; one little thing that will not let me die in peace. If I might have ten words with Richard Jenniter—" She left me in a fever flutter of excite- ment, whipped to the door, and had & word with him who stood without. I heard the chink of coin, and then she hastened back to me, all eagerness and tremulous impatience. “Tell me—tell me instantly what I must do. 1 am not afraid. Shall I ride down to Jennifer House and fetch Dick here?” “He is a prisoner, and if he were not they would not let him see me. Besides, I ‘would not let you go on such an errand. And yet—God help me, Margery! there is many an innocent life hanging on this; the lives of helpless women and children. Have you ever a messenger to send, & man who will risk his life and can be trusted fully?” “Yes, y she cried. “Write it down for me and Dick shall have it. Quick; for Our Lady's sake, be quick about it! O Sancta Maria, mater Dei—" The low impassioned chant of the Ro- man litany was ringing in my ears as I sat down to the table to write my mes- sage to Richard Jennifer. There were quills and an ink-pot at hand, but no paper. I felt mechanically in my pocket and found, not some old letter, as I hoped, but the crumpled parchment map snatched and hidden when Captaln Stuart had winced and dropped it at the bidding of the whistling sword about his_ears. How it was they had not searched e for it, I know not; though haply the cap- tain did not guess how he had lost it. Be that as it might, I had it safe, and Dick should have it safe, and use it, too, to some good purpose, as I fondly hoped. You'd hardly think from the slow and clumsy spinning of this tale that I could crowd the narrative of all that I had seen and heard iInto a niggard three-score words or less. But this I did, writing them upon the margin of the captain’'s map, snd noting in an added line the pricking out of the powder convoy's Toute. And while my pen was looping on the flourish to my name, my eager little lady seized the pounce-box, handed me the heavy trailings of the quill, snatched and hid the parchment in her bosom and was gone. And but for this, that I heard the door- latch click behind her, and then the heavy wooden bar fall into, place, I might have thought the happenings of the hour the ynsubstantial fancies of a dream. CHAPTER X. HOW A FORLORN HOPE CAME TO GRIEF. Although I could not hope to know the outcome of this desperate cast to speed the warning to the over-mountain settle- ments—could never live to know it, as I thought—I screened the candle and stood beside the open window, not to see or hear, but rather from the lack of sight or sound to gather some encouragement. For sure, I reasoned, if Margery's mes- senger should fall to pass the sentries there would be clamor enough to tell me ‘of ft. . So while the minutes of this safety si- lence multiplied and there was space for sober afterthought, I fell to casting up the chances of success. Now that Mar- gery was gone, and with her all the fine enthusfasm that sueh devoted souls as hers do always radiate, it . was - plain enough that nothing less than a miracle could bring success. Tarleton's legion ¢ veterans schooled well and though the biv- a camp of motionless racled in sleep—I 3 could ike dead men round the I made no doubt the and wakeful are, sentries w How., then, was ax pass the at Jenn Jennifer name? Chewing such wormwood thoughts as these, 1 watched and listened ‘while the measured minutes, circling siow on lead- en wings, pecked at my heart in pessing. and despair, cold like a winter fog, had chilled me to the bone. For now it came to me that while I would be saving life, mayhap I had been periling it agal There was small doubt that if the m senger were taken with my letter, life would pay the forfel ouse, a prisoner in all his And if the fear of death should make him tell who sent him and to whom he was sent—I had been careful so to word the letter as to shield my correspondent—both Mar- gery and Dick would be involved. *Tis worthy of rem: how, building on the simplest supposition, we seldom prophesy arig! For all my fine-spun theories the mannmer of the thing that happened was all unlike the forecast. Suddenly, and in silence, out of the ghost- Iy shadows of the trees and into wan of the open space beneath my h neither shout nor crash of sentry gun give me warning, came three figures riding abreast—a man in trooper trappings on either hand and on the led horse sandwiched in between, & woman. You may believe my heart went cold at the sight. I knew at once what she ad done — this feariess maid who would be loyal any cost. Ha trust—she k it well promised me—she had ta: upon herse! 18g & hazard have da any & man. I thought t} d surely now be- to her friend at senger sh fallen, an dred times I had die to this there was in store. Her ca passed the word while yet I looked oked wit uac b rage and grief, and 2zed alive and men came ning, some with arms v torches, these last to flash the light her and to jeer and laugh. At lengt seemed an age to me—an officer appea biv to flog the rabble into order; then was tal . the hou windows ands of and God would g one stand beside her ir time of glve me tongue of eloquence to t all e was innocent; to give breath to swear she knew not wr went, or what the message was ried. Yours is a skeptic age. iny, dears, and d to sedff at things you But so long as I shall lieve ' that, agonizt While yet the angu soul there came a has trampling in the corridor, the, semtry's challenge and then a quick unbarring of N the door. I uponm my heel to fa a young ensign come with his back to take me to the co They bou nel. 1d rue well and strongly with many wrappings of stout cord before they led me dow Nor must you think me broken-spirited because I let them. In any other cause but this I hope I should have fought to dle unmanacled; but now I suffered gladly this little, seeing I had made my dear lady suffer so greatly. ‘When we were coma into the room be- low they let me stagd beside her, as I had prayed God they mmight, and when I stole a glance at her I was fain to think my coming gave her courage and support For you must know the place was falr alive with men and flaring light wit torches, and they had never offered her a chalr. The colonel stood apart, the center of & group of officers, and Falconnet was with him. Hovering on the edges of the group, as if afrald to show themselves too bol 1y in such a coll,’ were Gilbert Stair an that smooth parchment-visaged knave, his factor. The while they thrust me forth to take my place at Margery's sids the good old priest came and would . Joined us; but they would not suffer him. So we two stood alone together as we had stood before: but now my lady’s eves wers downcast, and her lps and cheeks wers pale. Yet she was more beautiful than I had ever seen her—so beautiful that T would swear the sum of all the precious gifts in God's great universe might be expressed for me In this; that I might die to save her from this shame and agony. When my guards had thrust me ward the colonel made short work of o fresh offense “'Twas a dastard’s trick, my captain— this tangling of a lady in your treason.” he began. “How did you get your speech with her?* “That is none of your affa Tarleton,” I retorted boldl that with such & man the sh were ever the best. “Yet I m the lady knew not what she d As for my getting speech wit to blame. I ta for- “By God, you lfe!"” was this. “She might have tar guard and t leave to k tryst with you, but to my poor frightened no shame, Mi 1 Now I have sald that s angeful as any child or April 8 ever had I seen he n t9 mood as she did ther e stood a as any flifled, an 4 ger I think her flashing eves him where ho stood. “You've found a way to make me speak, sir, and 1 wish you joy of it Twas [ who bribed your sen®y, and I & to g0 to Captain Ireton’s room." The colonel laughed and shot a sharp ibe at my er “'H\)W s, Sir Francis? Did I not tell you ye rust an inch or so too high? By I think you will come overlate, if »u do come at all. This captain hath forestalled you beautiful As more than once beforc in this event- ful night, the air went flaming red before my eyes and helpless wrath came upper most. 1saw no way te cle: there been the plaifiest way would still have held me tonguetied. So I could only mop and mow and stammer and, when the words were found, maks shift to blunder out that such an aceu tion did the lady grievous wrong; she had come atfended and at my be- seeching, to take a message from a dy- ing man to ohe who was his friend. For my pains I had a brutal laugh in payment; & laugh that, starting with the