"What's it matter to us here who's got a crown on his head in London?" he said. "London-folk care nothing for us, and we care nothing for them. But Swift Nicks does matter. We want him hung. No man about here with any sense bothers about your politics except at election-times, when politics means a belly full of beer and a fist full of guineas for every d.a.m.ned tinker and tallow-chandler in Leicester. But you, or that b.l.o.o.d.y villain Swift Nicks, if you a'nt him, keep us sweating-cold o' nights. To h.e.l.l with your politics! Hang me Swift Nicks!"

The terms of our treaty were that I was to remain peaceably and make a night of it, giving my word to make no attempt to escape or harm anyone.

In the meantime, and at my proper charges, a post was to be sent to fetch Nance Lousely and her father to give evidence on my behalf.

"DEAR GHOSTIE,"--I wrote to her,--"I am in great danger because a red-nosed man vows I am Swift Nicks. I want you and your father to come and prove he's an a.s.s. If you don't I am to be hung on a gibbet at a place called the Copt Oak, and I can't abide gibbets, for they are cold and draughty. So come at once, my brave Nance!--Your friend,

"O. W."

A groom was fetched and I told him how to get to Job Lousely's. He was well mounted from the Squire's stables and set off. However quickly he did his business, it would be many hours before he could be back. So I settled down to make a night of it.

There was nothing original in the Squire's way of making a night of it.

The parson who had been in at the death and who, during the settlement of my affair, had been busy in the stables, now joined us at dinner. He was but lately come from Cambridge, at which seat of learning the chief books appeared to be Bracken's _Farriery_ and Gibson on the _Diseases of Horses_, with Hoyle's _Whist_ as lighter reading for leisured hours. He was a hard rider, a hard swearer, and a hard drinker, and, after being double j.a.panned, as he called it, by a friendly bishop, had been pitchforked by the Squire into a neighbouring parish of three hundred a year in order that the Squire's dogs and hounds, and the game and poachers on the estate, might have the benefit of his ministrations. He had, however, sense enough to buy good sermons. "At any rate the women tell me they're good," explained the Squire. "I can't say for myself, for Joe's a reasonable c.o.c.k, and always shuts up as soon as I wake up."

The Bow Street runner, Mr. Wicks, and the red-nosed petty constable of the hundred, who answered to the name of Pinkie Yates, were of the party.

I ate little and drank less, but the others emptied the bottles at a great pace and were soon hot with drink. One brew, which the huntsmen quaffed with much zest, I insisted, out of regard for my stomach, on pa.s.sing round untouched, though the men of law took their share like heroes, and, I doubt not, thought they were for once hob-n.o.bbing with the G.o.ds. The manner of it was thus. The parson drew from his pocket a leg of the fox they had killed that day, and, stinking, filthy, and b.l.o.o.d.y as it was, squeezed and stirred it in a four-handled tyg of claret. In this evil compound the Squire solemnly gave us the huntsman's toast:

"_Horses sound. Dogs hearty, Earth's stopped, and Foxes plenty_."

The parson then hiccoughed a song for which he should have been put in the stocks, after which Mr. Wicks, with three empty bottles and three knives to stand for the gallows, gave us a vivid account of the turning-off of the famous Captain Suck Ensor, who kicked and twitched for ten minutes before his own claimed him.

It was five o'clock next morning before my courier returned with Nance Lousely and her father. I had gone to sleep in the Squire's elbow-chair before the hall fire, with the zealous thief-takers in attendance, turn and turn about, as sentries over me, fifty guineas being well worth guarding. The butler watched at the door, wakefully anxious to earn the crown I had promised him. The noise he made in unchaining and unbolting the door awakened me, and it warmed my heart to see Nance standing timidly just inside the hall, her hand in her father's, till she spied me, when she broke away and ran up to me.

"You knew I'd come, sir, didn't you?" she said, appealing to me more with her pretty anxious face than by her words.

"Of course, ghostie!" I replied promptly.

"Thank you, sir!" she said, with evident relief. At a trace of doubt in my words or face, she would have broken down.

"Don't be a goose, ghostie," said I. "Sit down and get warm! And how are you. Job? Much obliged to you both."

"We'n ridden main hard to get here, sir. Your mon didna get t'our 'ouse afore one o'clock, an' we wor on the way afore ha'f-past. Gom! We wor that'n. Our Nance nearly bust. Gom, she did that'n."

"Your Nance is a darling," said I, stroking her disordered hair.

At my request backed by a promise to turn the crown into half a guinea, the butler got them some breakfast. Fortunately the Squire and the parson were due at a duck-shooting ten miles off by seven o'clock, and so were stirring early. My matter was soon settled. The Squire sat magisterially in his elbow-chair, and Nance and her father told their tale, precisely as I had told it before them. It cleared me and made the thief-catchers look mightily confused and sheepish, and very relieved they were when, as a politic way of staving off awkward questions, I grandly accepted their apologies.

"I knew you weren't Swift Nicks," said the Squire, "when I saw you mending my lad's fishing-rod. Damme, we'll get him though, before we've done."

He invited me to join him at breakfast, where we were alone for the first time.

"Is it into the fire or into the fender?" he asked meaningly.

I was ready for him and, stopping with the carving knife half-way through a fine ham I was slicing, said, as if amazed, "Is what into the fire or into the fender?"

"The chestnut," said he.

"The chestnut!" I retorted.

"Well, well! I don't blame you for your caution, sir. Sir James Blount sounded me and I know you know my reply. Whether fire or fender will make no difference to me, and I wouldn't miss to-day's duck-shoot to make it either."

"I hope there'll be plenty of birds, and strong on the wing," said I.

This ended all the talk that pa.s.sed between us on the great event that had so strangely brought us together. He, the squire of half a dozen villages, went duck-shooting while the destiny of England was being settled just outside his own door.

For the second time Nance walked a s.p.a.ce by my side to wish me good-bye.

"Nance, my sweet la.s.s," said I, pulling Sultan up, "do you know that dirty little ale-house near your home?"

"Where the painted woman lives, sir?"

"That very place! Now Swift Nicks is hiding there. Go back and tell the Squire you can find Swift Nicks for him, and they'll fill your pinner with guineas. You'll kiss me for a pinnerfull of guineas, won't you?"

"No, sir," said she very decidedly.

"Then kiss me, Nance, because, though we shall never meet again, we've helped one another when we did meet."

She put her foot on mine, and I lifted her up in my arms and kissed her red young lips and tear-stained cheeks.

"Good-bye, Nance!"

"Good-bye, sir. G.o.d bless you!"

At a bend in the road I turned to look at her again. She was standing there, looking after me, and waved her bonnet in farewell. I took off my hat and waved back, and then she was gone from sight.

"She's a good girl is Nance," said I aloud, "and you, curse you, are the cause of all my troubles"--this to my new hat. My foppery had cost me dear. What would the Prince say to my failure? What would Margaret say?

There would once more be questionings in her eyes, and the shadow of doubt on her face.

"Curse you!" I said again to the hat, and then, with a swift, strong sweep of my arm, sent it spinning into a brook.

Sultan showed his points. He did ten miles in fifty minutes by my watch, accurate timing and counting from one milestone to another.

At last the broad Trent came in sight and I rattled over Swarkston bridge, only to be pulled up on the other side by a strong post of Highlanders. My luck still held, however, for Donald was amongst them, and, on his explaining who I was, the chief in command let me pa.s.s.

Donald trotted by my side for half a mile to give me all the news. The Prince had lain all night at Derby in the Earl of Exeter's house. There had been many rumours and wranglings among the chiefs at night, a council of war was fixed for this morning, and no one knew what it was all about.

There had been great doings overnight in the town, and he, Donald, had stood guard at the Prince's lodging.

"She dinged 'em a', as I tell't ye she would," he said. "Losh, man, it was a grand sight to see her an' the bonny Maclachlan gliding ower ta flure in ta dancin'. They were like twa gowden eagles gliding in the air ower a ben wi' ta sun shinin' on it. Losh, man, I tell it ye, they're a bonny, bonny pair. Got pless 'em."

"Good-bye, Donald! I'll push on. d.a.m.n Swift Nicks!" I cried, and gave Sultan such a dig in the flanks that he shot ahead like an arrow from a bow. I was sorry immediately, but it was more than I could stand.

CHAPTER XX

THE COUNCIL AT DERBY

It was a relief to get into the chock-full streets of the town, where thinking was impossible and good round cursing indispensable. Even with its aid in clearing a course for him, Sultan tumbled over a brace of Highlanders, two of a swarm of Maclachlans and Macdonalds who were disputing possession of a cutler's shop on the corner of Bag Street. After their native fashion, they immediately suspended their quarrel to unite against a common foe, but on a Maclachlan recognizing me as a friend, went at one another again with infinite zest, and I saw them hard at it as I turned into the market-square.