The High Toby

There, then, were we set, awaiting Sir Philip, in the big chamber, she yawning without disguise, and me racking my wits to attract her. I'll warrant she must have taken an idea of me as a buck of Town, although she feigned coldness then. I spoke of the play and the Court, of both of which I knew secrets, and I talked on a level proper to the sex.

"D'ye not love the play, miss?" says I.

"Lard, it is pretty well," says she, and covered up a yawn with ostentation.

"I doubt not but you have seen Love in a Tub?" said I, for I would not be beat by her impudence.

"Maybe," says she, "I have a poor memory."

"There was one played in it t'other day like to you, miss," said I, with significance, thinking to rouse her.

She lifted her eyebrows. "Well, indeed," says she, indifferently.

"As handsome as I might wish to see—so she was," said I, persisting.

"Why! do you say so?" cries miss. "What a fortunate lady!" and stifles another yawn.

"You favour her, miss," says I, giving her an eye.

"Lard, I favour none, sir," said she, tartly. "I am cross like two sticks that could beat myself," and ere I could find a word in retort she had gone from the room.

If I had followed my first temper I should have marched from the house forthright, being sore to be so used by the minx; but I will admit she had a fascination for me, and wherein my teeth are set there I hold; so that I paced the chamber once or twice and "Faith," says I, angrily, "I will make the little cockatrice sing another tune afore I've done."

And no sooner was I come to this conclusion than the door at the foot of the room opened, and in walks an elegant gentleman. The sound made me turn, and I watched him till he came into the light of the candles, when I cried out sharply—for the face was no other than that which had lain behind the mask in that nocturnal attack. I took some steps across the room and halted by him, so that he might see me as clearly as I saw him.

"Well, sir," says I, "I'll make bold to say you recognise me," for I was amazed and disordered by his remarkable appearance in that house.

He looked me up and down. "Not the least in the world," says he, coolly, and arranged some nice point in his sleeves. "Who the devil may you be?"

"Rip me," says I, angrily. "The question is not that so much as who be you and what audacity brings you here? But if you want it you shall have it. My name is Ryder."

He paused again before he replied to me, and there was no manner of irritation in his voice, but merely languor.

"Well, Mr Ryder, one good turn deserves another; so my name is York, and I am a friend of Sir Philip Caswell."

"What!" said I, mightily taken aback at this rejoinder, as you may suppose, then I laughed. "S'blood," I said, "'tis a pretty demonstration of friendship to be for striking your bodkin in someone's belly, as you was an hour ago, you rogue."

York's eyebrows lifted at this, but I will admit he had a fine command of himself, which took my admiration, toad as he was. He was a healthy, ruddy man, of looks not displeasing.

"Indeed," says he to me, "why, here is news. Have we Simon Bedlam here, madam?" and he turned to miss, who had entered at that moment. He bowed very low to her, and the colour sprang in her face.

"Mr York," she cried, in a fluttered way.

"Why, you did not look for me so late, madam," says he, pleasantly. "But I spied lights, and thought maybe Sir Philip was at his cards and would give me welcome, and the door was open. But I find only," he concluded, with an indifferent glance on me, "a Merry Andrew who talks brimstone and looks daggers."

"Sir Philip has been attacked," stammered miss; "the surgeon has just left him."

"'Tis not serious, I trust," says the fellow, gravely, and when she had faltered out her negative, continued very polite, "Footpads, I doubt not. The streets are abominable in these days, and the watch is ever asleep."

But that was too much for me, and I burst forth.

"Footpads!" said I. "Hear him, miss? Why, 'twas the dung-fork himself. The mask fell from his face as he fought me, and I saw him plain. I would have you and Sir Philip know what manner of man this is who calls himself friend."

"Softly, softly; you crow loud," said he, as impudent as ever, and smiling softly. "Who, d'ye suppose, would credit this cock-and-bull story? I profess I know none. Would you, madam?" he asked, turning suddenly on the girl.

She hesitated ever so little, and showed some confusion.

"I—I think the gentleman mistook," said she. "I cannot credit such a story. 'Tis monstrous."

"Why, miss," said I, "'tis true as I am a living man. And as for this muckrake here, why, I will prove it on his skin if he denies it," and out I whipped my iron, ready for an onfall. But it seemed that he would not budge, and smiled as indifferent as ever. And miss, too, though she showed no colour, regained her composure, and says she, firmly,—

"'Tis monstrous. I cannot believe it. This gentleman is a friend to me and Sir Philip. He is on terms of intimacy. Lard, sir, you surprise me to make such rash statements. Your eyes deceived you, or the dark."

The man that called himself York nodded impudently. "That is it, madam," he says. "'Twas his eyes, no doubt, and the blinking moon. This gentleman, whom I have not the honour of knowing, is doubtless much excited by the event and must be excused. Otherwise...." he shrugged his shoulders significantly, "I am honoured by the resemblance he detects, and, my faith, I shall be seeing my double kick the Triple Beam—so I shall, and curse him for a rogue."

But you may guess that this was too much for me—to stand there quiet and see the cully talk so suave and false, and the girl so credulous, and perilling herself and the house by blind faith in such a villain. Upon his features, moreover, there was a faint grin that spread and counterfeited civility, almost as it were, a leer, and that maddened me; so that I spoke out pretty hotly.

"'Tis very true what you say, sir," said I, "and there was no witness of what happened save me and old Oliver, the moon. And so the law shall go free of you. Indeed, I have no particular fancy for the law myself. But, perish me, sir," says I, "I detect a mighty resemblance in you to a wheedler that cheated me at dice this night, and, rip me, if I will not run you through the midriff for it."

There was my point towards him, with that little menacing twist of my wrist, such as has served me often in good stead, and he must have seen what sort of kidney he had to deal with, for he gazed at me in surprise, laughed slightly, and made protest with his shoulders, exhibiting some discomposure.

"I would remind you, sir," said he, "that there is a lady here."

"Faith," says I, "but she will not be outside, then, and thither you shall go."

York frowned at this and stood for a moment as though he was at a loss for answer. I was not to be put down by a naughty fop like him, with his punctilios, more especially as I was acting in the interests of the lady, so I pressed him with the naked blade.

"Come," says I, "let's see your tricks out of doors."

But at that a voice broke in and stayed me, coming from the door behind.

"Pray, sir," says this, very level and quiet, "what may this scene mean?"

Round I whipped, and there, on the threshold of the room, was the tall big man that had fought by me, Sir Philip himself, with his arm in a bandage, a cap on his iron-grey hair, and on his face a stern, commanding expression. Out of the tail of my eye I saw miss shrank back against the wall in a posture of alarm. But York was no whit abashed; he saluted most ceremoniously.

"Good evening, Sir Philip," said he. "Your servant. You are come in time—perish me, in the very nick. Here's a most impudent and amazing case," and he cocks his finger at me. "I have never heard of a more shameless, audacious fellow. Faith, it has made me laugh—so impudent is it!"

"I should like to know what it is, Mr York, so that I maybe might share the jest," says Sir Philip, with some dryness of tone.

"Why, naturally," returned t'other cheerfully. "Having had the good fortune to rescue you and your ward from a pack of villains, cutpurses or worse, what is my surprise to find installed in your house the very chief of the villains, as impudent as you please. Faith, if it were not so grave 'twould tickle me still."

I must admit that the fellow took me back, and for all I was furious I could not but admire his cool bearing and ready wit. Sir Philip stared at me with a black frown, for I could find nothing for the moment to counter this monstrous brazen charge, but at last I broke out, only with an oath, for sure—so amiss was I.

"You damnable rogue!" said I.

But York goes on as calm as ever. "'Twould be a good thing, sir," says he, looking at me with a kind of wondering interest, "if perhaps the watch was called. For he is a man that can use a weapon, as your arm bears witness, and, indeed, my own skin, too," with which he stroked his elbow gently. Sir Philip had come forward and now began in a formidable voice of anger.

"What!" he cries to me, "you are the ruffian—"

But I was not going to put up meekly under this, and broke out myself.

"Rip me," said I, "if I have ever heard or seen the like. Why, yonder stands the fellow that was in the assault on your carriage, and 'twas me, Dick Ryder, that thrust him through the elbow as he fell on you."

Sir Philip's eyes went from one to t'other of us, under his bent black brows, but York's eyebrows were lifted in a feint of amazement.

"Why, Sir Philip," said he, "you will see from this how an excess of impudence may move a man. It may be that he is drunk that he plays so wildly. You have known me long. Sure, I needn't speak in my own behalf to so preposterous a charge," and dropped silent with a grand air.

"I have known you long, as you say, sir," said Sir Philip, slowly, "and I have known you to be a suitor for my ward's hand."

"I have always had that honour," said York, with a bow towards miss, "which, unhappily, you have not seen fit to allow me so far. Yet, if any witness is wanted, why, here is your ward herself."

At that Sir Philip turned as though reminded.

"Lydia," said he, "what is the truth of this story? We were attacked and rescued. Was this gentleman in the assault?" and he pointed at me.

Miss's eyes fell; she was fluttered and her bosom went fast; and there flashed, I'll swear, a glance from York.

"Indeed, sir," she faltered, "I could not say. The men were masked."

"Ay, so they were," said he, considering.

"'Twas from this one's face that I took the cover," put in York, pertly.

"But certain it is that Mr York rescued us," went on miss in a faint voice.

At that news I could have reeled under the words, so little was I ripe for them, and so unsuspicious of her.

"Why," said I, opening my mouth and stuttering, "why, 'twas I drove off the pack, and fetched the chaise home. 'Twas I lifted you in and took the reins. The Lord deliver me from this wicked puss!"

Sir Philip threw up his sword arm with a gesture of black wrath.

"'Tis plain," said he, "that one here is a villainous rogue, and if we have not always agreed, Mr York, at least I cannot think you that."

Miss leaned against the wall white and trembling, and I gave her a congee, very deep and ironical. Truth to say, as soon as I had recovered I had, after my habit, begun to ply my wits pretty sharply, and already I had taken a notion of how things stood between the two. Moreover, I was not done with yet, and I cast about to be even with the pair. Sir Philip, it seemed, was hostile to the addresses of this York; and as patently, miss herself was not. The attack, then, must have been part of a plan to gain Miss Lydia's person, to which she was herself privy. What do I then but step in and interfere with the pretty plot? This was why she bore me no goodwill, no doubt.

"Well," says I, with the congee, "I cannot contest a lady's word, be she Poll or Moll. Let the gentleman have his way."

Sir Philip, without more ado, turned to him.

"Mr York," said he, civilly, "I beg your pardon for my coldness, which, indeed, had nothing of suspicion. But you must remember that we have never quite agreed. I hope that will mend. I remain greatly in your debt, and I trust you will be good enough to add to my obligations by keeping this man secure until my return. I will have the watch fetched at once."

"Nothing will give me greater satisfaction, sir," says the rogue, cheerfully, and off goes Sir Philip with his black, portentous face, leaving us three there together again. As for me, I had made up my mind and was feeling my way to some action; but says York, looking on me pleasantly,—

"Egad, you're in a ticklish case. Stap me, you've run your head into a noose. Now, why the devil did you yield that way? I had looked for a good round fight, as good, egad, as we had this evening. And I had begun to have my fears, too—stap me, I did."

But I paid him no heed then, for I will confess that I was all eyes for Miss Lydia, whose face was very piteous. She was trembling violently and looked out of tragic eyes, and then it came upon me like a flash that she was no party to the lie herself, but had spoken in fear of that bully. Indeed, it may be that she took a distaste of him, as it were, from that scene which began to show from that minute. How else can be explained what ensued?

"You had better go, sir," said she at last, in a whisper.

"Ay, that's true," says York, nodding. "I had not thought of that. You had better go. The watch will be fetched."

He looked so comfortable and so friendly, rather than what he was at heart, that my gorge rose of a sudden.

"Perish me if I will go," says I. "If I must hang I must hang."

Miss started. "Oh!" she cried, and "you must go, oh, you must go, sir! Fly, fly, while there is time."

Here were the two culprits in unison for my withdrawal, which would fetch them out of a scrape, yet how far the girl was involved in the business I had not yet determined. So I pushed her further, as, indeed, I had the right. I folded my arms.

"I am waiting my reward, madam," I said, "something in recognition of my efforts on behalf of yourself and Sir Philip."

But at this she fell into a greater exhibition of distress, imploring me to go, and flitting in agitation 'twixt me and the door, on which she kept anxious watch. Well, thought I, if here's not innocence at least she's in a pickle enough, and I believe I would have gone had it not been for York, whose bearing annoyed me. Besides, I wanted to see how far miss would go, and if her resolution to veil the truth would stand out against the watch and a poor victim haled to prison. Not that I wanted the watch or the law about me nearer than was necessary, for sundry reasons, but I can always trust to my own ingenuity and sword if it comes to the pinch. So I listened to her deafly, and made no sign to go.

"Let him be, Lydia," says York, pleasantly. "He's an obstinate fellow, and, faith, deserves his fate. Let him hang; I'll warrant it must have come to that some day."

But this turns me on him, and I whipped out my blade again in a fury at his insolence; only Miss Lydia intervened, and, her face very pale, put a hand on my arm.

"Oh, sir," says she, very low of voice, but clear and earnest for all that, "I beg you will not suffer further harm to come to-night. Indeed, but I am ashamed to look you in the face. I will not excuse myself—I will offer no apologies, yet, maybe, you will not think too hardly of me if you know more. My guardian keeps me close. He stands in my way, and will not allow me what is allowed all women. I am not a schoolgirl, sir. I am grown a height," and she raised herself to her full stature. "Surely I may have that liberty to command, to choose where I will and whom. Sir, he has sought to make himself all the law to me," she cries, with heaving bosom. "And as for his hurt, God knows I did not wish it, and was not privy to it," and she cast a glance, as I thought, of scorn and reproach at her lover. The eloquence of this new attitude struck me to the reins, tender as I ever was to the wounds of women, though not to be frustrated or deceived by vain pretences.

"He is a hog," says I, "a pig of a man to interfere with you, madam."

But here spoke York, when he had better have held his tongue, yet it was impossible.

"Faith, child," he said lightly, "you have touched him there. Best stop and go no farther. Let it work."

"I will go on," she cried, stamping her foot and turning on him. "I will tell all to this gentleman, all that should be told; for it is his due and meed—a small recompense for the unworthy usage he has had. You have heard him, sir," she says, "and, indeed, your eyes have been witness to his deeds and what he is. My guardian came between us and denied us. And this was his plan—to snatch me away by violence while I stood passive, not refusing nor accepting." She wrung her hands in a transport of distress. "I—I was wild … I did madly; yet, sir, I would not have you judge me by that. See, it has all ended in trouble, nothing but trouble, and I have gained nothing for myself but shame."

She paused upon the edge of tears, as I could see pretty plain, and says I, bluntly, "You were misled, and by them that should not," and I scowled at York where he stood. But York says nothing, merely lifting his shoulders, and being content, no doubt, to let miss deal with the situation. She sank her face in her hands, which moved me strangely, for she had a helpless look.

"If I have misjudged, sir, and been mistook," she said, "can you blame me if I would bury that shame and not have it flaunted in my face?"

"Not I, madam," said I. "I would I might help you, troth I do."

"You can," she cried, sparkling shyly and eagerly upon me.

"Why …," says I.

"If you will go, sir, there will be no trouble, no inquiry, and no law will be set in motion. 'Twill die a quiet death, and nothing will be digged up against me. I shall not have to tell the truth, as I shall have else," she cried. Her lips parted in her fever, her eyes burning with a wild zeal.

York uttered a sound, but I was silent.

"Oh, sir!" she pleaded.

"Why," I said, with a laugh. "It seems I must condone wounds and abduction and all."

"'Tis on me the brunt will fall—the shame and scandal," she urged, and, looking in her pretty face, I could resist no longer, for I'll swear she was genuine, and had been misled by that muckrake.

"I will go," says I, and then of a sudden remembered. "But how am I to escape?" says I.

"By the window," she said, pointing to it with animation.

"Why, to be sure," says I, slowly, for I was taken with a notion, "but there is this gentleman who is my guard."

"Oh!" says she, archly, "I think your sword is better than his, and he will not stay you."

"True," says I, "but 'tis best to be prudent and to avoid Sir Philip's suspicions. He must have some marks of a struggle. Either I must leave him with a wound, or senseless, or gagged and bound … or maybe suspicion will come to rest on you, madam."

Her brows were bent in a little frown. "That is true," she said, and turned to York, whose face for the first time, as I could see, wore a look of discomposure.

"He must be bound and gagged," says I, shaking my head.

"Ye-es," she says, hesitatingly.

Whereupon I went forward to the fellow, who gnawed his lip and fidgeted. He looked at Miss Lydia as if about to speak, and then shot an angry glance at me, but paused.

"Oh, very well," says he, at last, with a grin, "but pray make haste or you will be surprised in the middle of your job—" and he had the air of yielding himself with good humour. But I knew what must be his chagrin, though I admired him for his manner. He would have done pretty well on the road if he could have put by his scurvy way with women. Yet I was not for letting him off, after what he had done, so, withdrawing the cords from the window curtains, I tied him pretty quickly in a fast enough bundle. But when, his arms being lashed behind, I approached with a wedge of wood, York cried out in protest.

"I'll have none of that," said he.

"He must be gagged," says I to the lady, appealing to her. She hesitated, and, looking on him, appeared to take pity; or maybe she was afraid of him.

"Perhaps it is not necessary," she said.

"Why, look you, madam," said I, earnestly, "we must convince Sir Philip of our good faith; else he will smell out this trickery and all our pains are thrown away."

She made no answer and with the wedge I moved a step nearer to York, who grimaced and cried out with an oath,—

"May I be—"

But ere he could get it forth I had it between his teeth, and with my knee in his wind threw him in a heap upon the floor. Miss Lydia looked on with open eyes, and with an air of uncertainty.

What she would have said I know not, but at that moment there was a sound without the door, and she broke out.

"Go—go," she cried, running to me. "You can go now in safety."

"Yes, 'tis time I was gone if I am to keep the bargain," said I, looking with a grin on York, who was wriggling on the floor.

I gave miss a congee, and backed to the window. "If you will credit me, madam," says I, "you will think twice ere you take up with York there."

"I know, I know," says she, eagerly, for she was terrified of the sounds outside. "I will be wise, I promise you."

Her skirts swung against me, and that touch on my arm sent through me an amazing thrill, so that, beholding her so vastly handsome and passionate at my elbow, my blood fired at the sight.

"Madam," said I, very grave, "I had thought to do you some good, and that privilege would have been my reward. But I find myself only to have plunged you in embarrassments, for which may I be whipped. What get I for my pains, then? Why, nothing, not even the private consolation to have relieved you; and in this escape what touches me is not so much the ignominy as the deprivation of these eyes of one they would have dwelled on always."

'Twas not ill phrased, as you will admit, and I got it off with unction, her face being so close to me, and devilish enticing. The sounds were not now audible, and I was at the window, so that I suppose she had forgot her tremors. A demure look crept in her face under my boldness, and says she softly,—

"What would you have me do?"

"Oh, madam," said I, burning on her. "Look up, look up, I pray you, and I'll warrant you'll read me as clear as a book."

"I cannot guess, sir," says she, looking up with her innocent eyes all the same, while from the floor there was a choking sound which, maybe, was the dust in York's nostrils. Miss looked round.

"We are keeping Mr York in an uncomfortable position," says she, sweetly. "'Tis not a pleasant posture to be in."

"Faith," said I, boldly, "I would lie so all night if I might get what I want now."

"What is it you want?" says she, opening her eyes in wonder.

"Why, what I will take, and suffer all risks," says I of a sudden. With which I put my arm about her swiftly and carried her face to mine. Miss Lydia called out "Oh!" and the gag was shaken with uncouth, unintelligible sounds. A noise streamed out of the hall.

"Go, go!" cries she, pink of face and sparkling, and seeing my time was come I turned and went, leaving the gag still spluttering in the corner.

THE GENTLEMANLY HABERDASHER

I have dealt in my time with traps and catchpoles of many colours; I have treated with justices and officers of the law that were mighty difficult; and I have encountered innumerable rough bucks that have pressed me badly. But give me them all rather than a pack of silly, screaming women that know not their own mind for two minutes on end. Many times have I adventured the sex in one way or another, and I can claim to have been esteemed by them, from milkmaids to ladies, even to my Lady Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland. But I will confess that my heart beats too soft in me to confront them rightly. I cannot abide tears nor a swollen countenance, and a petticoat catches me; and there it is. Not that I am a fool where women are concerned, for on occasion there is no harder flint than Dick Ryder, as is known in the four quarters of the kingdom. But I lean to mercy and consideration, and particularly if I be in a good humour or in liquor.