Doctor Syn on the High Seas - Thorndike Russell - Страница 15

you have shown quite enough of your mettle by knocking the bully into

the roadway, and my advice is to let it rest at that.”

After an hour or so, the mellowness of the god old man’s excellent

advice and admirable wine imparted itself to the spirits of both the

young gentlemen, so that when they bade him farewell, and walked into

the night air, each was desirous of seeing the other to his home.

“You are a guest, Tony,” said Doctor Syn, “and you have already kept

your future relatives up too long. I will walk there with you.”

“And have you no regard for your College gate -keeper?” laughed

Cobtree. “I told my in-laws I should be late, and they have entrusted

me with their house key. I will therefore walk with you to Queen’s, and

drink a good -night glass with you. What do you say?”

“I can hardly refuse my best friend hospitality,” laughed Syn.

And thus it was the Fate gave Doctor Syn a valued ally in a great

adventure for no sooner had they rung the porter’s bell than the

Squire’s note was handed to the Doctor.

He read it by the light of the lantern in the lodge, and as he read,

his friend saw his face veiled over with determined rage.

“What is wrong, Christopher?” he asked.

Doctor Syn crumpled the letter in his hand and, bringing his fist

down with a crash upon the porter’s desk, cried out, “That settles it!

Either I or that rascal dies tonight. The Chancellor did not guess at

this. Read it and wait here. There is something I must fetch from my

chambers.”

Cobtree did not obey, but with the letter in his hand hurried after

his friend, and when the chamber door was unlocked and Doctor Syn had

lighted a candle in the cozy and familiar study, Tony smoothed the paper

and read. By the time he had finished it, with many a gasp of horror

and surprise, his friend stood before him in a long clock.

“This is a wicked lie,” cried Cobtree, flourishing the letter. “Let

us go to White Friars, where no doubt we shall find the dear ladies are

sleeping saf ely. This is but a trap to get you to Iffley.”

“By gad, Tony, you are right, I never thought of that. Come with me

to St. Giles’, and if they are not there —well, then, I am for Iffley

and the rascal’s blood.”

“Of course they will be there,” said Tony. “How could he have

dragged them from the house?”

“Well, if he has,” said Syn between clenched teeth, “I have this

about me that will rescue them,” and drawing back his cloak he tapped

the hilt of a long sword. “It was my father’s, who was but the Prince

in ‘45. He took it from my father’s dead hand. Aye, the old lawyer

died game enough, and so will I if needs be. Come on, If they have

gone, I’ll get a horse at Hobson’s. And if they are there I’ll get it

just the same and teach this rogue that parsons are first of all

gentlemen. The Chancellor may groan, but this night I fight a duel. At

least come with me to St. Giles’, but after that I go alone.”

“Come along, then,” replied Tony grimly. “We’ll get along there as

quickly as we can, and a fter we will get two horses from Hobson’s.”

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And so the two friends hurried from Queen’s to St. Giles’, where all

was quiet, as the Fair had closed.

Now, owing to the fact that the landlady at White Friars had been

extremely anxious as to the fate of Doctor Syn, the two young gentlemen

found a light burning downstairs, and on their knock upon the door it

was immediately opened. Although very glad to find the Doctor alive and

able, when she had told them about the ladies under her charge and had

read the contents of the Squire of Iffley’s letter, she was in a sore

state of panic, in which Doctor Syn and Tony had to leave her, since

their haste was urgent to rescue the ladies from what they knew would be

unspeakable torture.

As they ran toward Hobson’s stables, Doctor Syn begged Tony to go

home and leave the rest to him, which, of course, Tony refused to do.

But it was not until Doctor Syn found himself galloping neck to neck

over Magdalen Bridge alongside his friend that he realized nothing could

shake off Tony Cobtree from the perilous adventure.

“To the gates of Iffley, I suppose?” cried Tony, spurring on.

“No,” reported the Doctor. “I have a better plan. We will pick up

on our way another ally against the rascal. We will rouse the farmer I

told you about, because this is to be war to the death, and the more

upon our side the better our generalship against this rogue, who will

have a host of retainers at his back. From what I told you, I think

this farmer will not hang back now.”

“Aye,” cried Tony, riding hard. “If we ride to the gates of Iffley

they will be prepared for you, but if this fellow can ferry us over the

Isis in his boat and land us there upon the Iffley estate, we shall

attack perhaps with more surprise.”

Although the hour was very late, the young men were fortunate in

finding a light in the cowshed, where the farmer was attending to a sick

animal. He recognized Doctor Syn immediately, and after hearing that

their errand was in the quest of revenge, was at once eager not only to

help, but to take an active part in the affair. In the space of a few

minutes Hobson’s horses were stabled, and he was leading them towards

the meadow bank where he moored a fishing-boat.

“I bring a loaded pistol for the cause, sir,” he said. “I am no

gentleman and cannot use a sword, but if you two should fail to kill

this vermin, believe me, gentlemen, I can shoot straight. And now,

please tell me how you intend to act when we touch the farther bank.”

“Proceed to the house, and kick up hell till we get in, of course,”

said Syn.

“I have a better plan than that,” replied the farmer. “A secret that

for years has been a source of comfort to me. You may have heard of

Charles Herman. He is the most skillfull cabinet-maker in Oxford.”

“Very well,” said Syn. “He does a lot of work for the colleges.”

“He is my brother -in-law,” went on the farmer. “A year or so back he

was called in by the Squire yonder to open up a sliding panel in the

great oak room on the first floor which the scoundrel uses for his

gaming. This panel, as our Charles discovered, leads by a flight of

winding steps to the old water-gate. In his father’s time it had been

closed, but no doubt the present Squire has found good use for it.

There have been bodies recovered from the Isis before now over which the

coroner has pronounced ‘Suicide’ or ‘Accidential death by drowning’. On

each occasion, Charles and I thought differently. The poor victims had

no doubt fallen foul of Bully Tappitt.

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Charles repaired the secret spring which operates on both sides of the

door, and being an expert locksmith too, he had to make a new key to fit

the water-gate. After the tragedy to my daughter, Charles told me of

this secret way, and I learned that he had n ot destroyed the mold from

which he made the key. I begged him to make another, which he did, and

gave to me. I have it always here against my heart. It is a large key,

but the feel of it has ever been a joy to me. The knowledge that at any

time I had the means to surprise that devil has made my heart sing

for sheer delight. I have used it many times, and listened at the

panel. But on each occasion he had company, and I needed him alone.

Sometimes in the dead of night I have let myself through the panel,

which Charles had made to slide so silently, and have stood in the oak