The Brown Mask Read online

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE LUCK OF LORD ROSMORE

  Harriet Payne did not move. The curtain over the door concealed her, butit hung a little apart at one side, and she could see into the room,could see both men as they stood facing each other. For a while therewas absolute silence, then Rosmore made a quick movement towards a sidetable on which lay a pistol.

  "Stop, or you are a dead man!" said Crosby.

  Rosmore stopped. He knew too much about his unwelcome guest to imaginethat he would not be as good as his word. He paused a moment, then wentto the table on which were the remains of the supper.

  "I have no fear that you will shoot an unarmed man, Mr. Crosby," he saidquietly. "I have heard many things against you, but never that you werea coward. I marvel that you have the courage to walk abroad inDorchester, and wonder, even more, that you come into this room."

  Crosby also walked to the table, and so they stood erect on either sideof it, face to face, man to man, deadly enemies feeling each other'sstrength.

  "We may come to the point at once, Lord Rosmore. Where is MistressBarbara Lanison?"

  "I hear that she is a prisoner in Dorchester."

  "By your contriving."

  "It is natural you should think so, seeing the position I hold in theWest Country at the present time."

  "I do not think, I know," Crosby answered. "By a trick, and through alying messenger, you induced her to travel to Dorchester and had herarrested on the journey."

  "Let us suppose this to be the case, is it not just possible that theremay be a legitimate reason for such a trick?"

  "I am ready to listen," said Crosby.

  "Always supposing that your knowledge is correct, is it not possiblethat Mistress Lanison may foolishly believe herself enamoured of acertain somewhat notorious person, and that those who have herwell-being at heart think it necessary to protect her from thisnotorious person until she becomes more sensible?"

  Harriet Payne watched him as he spoke. There was a smile upon hishandsome face such as any honest man's might wear when dealing with anexcitable and imaginative opponent. Then, as Crosby spoke, she looked athim.

  "I will tell you the truth," he said, speaking in a low, clear, andincisive tone. "You would yourself marry Barbara Lanison, and, havingestablished a hold over her guardian, you have attempted to force her tosuch an alliance by threats. At every turn in the game you have beenfoiled. You have failed to impress Mistress Lanison; you failed in avillainous endeavour to defend her against a drunken man who was actingon your suggestion; you failed to capture me at Lenfield when you had nowarrant but your own will for attempting such a capture."

  "You have sat at the feet of an excellent taleteller, sir, or else youhave a prodigious imagination of your own."

  Harriet Payne's eyes were fixed upon Rosmore. She watched him, andlooked no more at Crosby.

  "Failing in these endeavours, you made other schemes," Crosby went on."Having taken a servant girl from Lenfield, you make use of her. She wasan honest girl, I believe, not ill-intentioned towards me, but in yourhands she was as clay. How you have deceived her, or what promises youhave made to her, I do not know, I can only guess, but, to serve yourown purposes, you have made a liar and a cheat of her. She has broughtMistress Lanison to Dorchester for you, that you may once more attemptto force a marriage which is distasteful to the lady. That is the storyup to this moment."

  "You appear to know the lady's secrets as well as mine."

  "No, not as well as I know yours," Crosby answered. "Had I done so, Imight have outwitted you and have prevented her coming to Dorchester."

  "For a man who so easily believes every tale he hears, you are anexceedingly self-reliant person."

  "And fortunate, too," said Crosby, "since I have an opportunity ofshowing you the end of the story."

  "A prophet, by gad!" exclaimed Rosmore.

  "I entered this room in time to hear your transaction with JudgeMarriott," said Crosby. "Now the story ends in one of two ways. You havetwo orders of release, one for Mistress Lanison, one for me. I knowtheir value, or you would not have been so anxious to get them, and Ihave at least one friend in Dorchester who can execute those orderswithout any question being raised. Those orders you will deliver to me,here and now."

  "May I know how else the story might end?" Rosmore asked contemptuously.

  "With your death," was the quiet answer. "Oh, no, not murder; death infair fight. You are hardly likely to scream for help, I take it; youhave yourself carefully locked the door, and no one is likely to passalong the alley outside that window. You may choose which way the storyshall end."

  "You so nearly make me laugh at you, Mr. Crosby, that I find the utmostdifficulty in quarrelling with you. The orders I shall not part with,and I am half minded to call for help."

  "You would not need it when it arrived," Crosby answered.

  "And you would hang to-morrow."

  "You have worked so secretly that I hardly think suspicion would fallupon me. I could go as quietly as I came, and no one be any the wiser."

  "You shall be humoured, Mr. Crosby. I never thought to cross blades witha man ripe for Tyburn Tree, but the blade can be snapped afterwards."

  "It is the way I should prefer the story to end," Crosby returned.

  Rosmore pushed back the table, then the swords rang from theirscabbards.

  The girl behind the curtain did not move. She had watched Rosmore's faceto try and learn whether Crosby's story were true. She travelled fromdoubt to belief, then back to doubt again, and now as the swords crossedshe was fascinated, held there, it seemed, by some power outsideherself, unable to move, powerless to cry out. She knew not what tobelieve. Lord Rosmore had not admitted the truth of the story, still hehad not denied it. He had fenced with it. Harriet Payne had been atLenfield long enough to understand the estimation in which her master,Gilbert Crosby, was held; he was not a man to lie deliberately, and shedared not face him, knowing the part she had played. She had played itbecause she loved this other man, but, dispassionately described asCrosby had told it, the offence she had committed seemed far greaterthan she had imagined. If Rosmore had deceived her! The thought burntinto her soul and sent the hot blood to her cheeks. Was she merely asilly wench, as were hundreds of others, won by a smooth tongue,stepping easily down into shame at the bidding of the first man whosewords had enough flattery in them? Was there truth in what the trooperWatson had suggested? So, with her hand strained against her side, andleaning forward a little, she watched the play of the swords.

  Rosmore was not smiling now. He was a master of fence, had proved it adozen times, more than once had sent his man to his account. He hadnever yet faced an antagonist whose skill was quite equal to his own.Even to-night he would not admit to himself that he had found his equal.He remembered that he had drunk much wine, yet, before this, he had notfought the worse upon such a quantity. He had known sudden encountersover dice and cards when the settlement followed hard upon the quarrel,as well as more formal duels, and in none had he been beaten. Truly thisCrosby was no mean opponent, but no glow of satisfaction at meeting aworthy foeman came to Lord Rosmore. This must be a fight to the death,and twice in quick succession he attempted a thrust, a famous thrust ofhis, which had so often carried death with it. Now it was parried,easily it seemed, and barely could he turn aside the answering pointwhich flashed towards him. For a few moments he was entirely on thedefensive, with never an opening to attack.

  Gilbert Crosby's actual experience was not equal to his skill. Once onlyhad he fought a duel, and had wounded his man on that occasion. He wasconfident of his skill as he faced Lord Rosmore, but he knew that hemust lack something of that assurance which comes to the persistentduellist, that detachment of self which so often helps to victory. Hewas conscious of a certain anxiety which made him more than usuallycautious. He fought as a man who must, not as one who glories in it, andit was well for Rosmore, perhaps, that it was so. It was for BarbaraLanison that he fought, the conviction in his mind that
now or nevermust she be saved. No other way seemed open. It was of her hethought--of all she must have suffered, of the despicable trickery whichhad been practised upon her, of the fate which awaited her if she werenot rescued. He loved her, that was as sure as that he lived, but it wasnot his love he thought of just then. As Rosmore once more attacked himfiercely the idea of defeat came to him for an instant. For himself hecared not, but what would it mean for her! The fight must end. It shouldend soon in the only possible way, honesty triumphant over villainy.

  Lord Rosmore's thoughts wandered, too. The end did not really troublehim; he had never known defeat--why should it come to him now? Other menhad parried a difficult thrust twice, and had failed to do so the thirdtime; yet he remembered Barbara Lanison's speculation when he had spokenof breaking his sword after killing the highwayman. What would thehighwayman do, she had wondered, if he should prove the victor, andRosmore found himself wondering what Crosby would do in the event ofsuch an end. Then he remembered Harriet Payne. What was the girl doingbehind the curtain? Why had she not rushed into the room, as he hadfully expected she would do? Had she swooned at the sight of thefighting? That he fought in an unrighteous cause he did not think about.For him right meant the attainment of what he desired, and his head wasscheming as he parried Crosby's attack. The fight must end quickly. Itwas very certain that the wine he had taken was telling upon hisendurance. He almost wished that the girl would scream for help; he washalf inclined to call for it himself. It would be an easy way to bringthe end. Lord Rosmore was not himself to-night.

  Harriet stood motionless and watched. In her ignorance she thought thateach thrust must end it, so impossible did it seem to turn aside, nowthis flashing blade, now that; but presently it was evident, even toher, that the fight was fiercer. The panting breaths came quicker, theblades rang more sharply. She wondered that the house had not beenaroused, wondered that those passing in the streets had not heard thisquarrel of steel with steel, and sought to know the reason. Then for thefirst time through long, long minutes her eyes wandered. The power whichheld her immovable and speechless was lessening, but the tension was notgone yet. Her eyes wandered, and her ears heard something besides theringing steel. The curtains over the window shook a little, stirred by abreath of wind from the alley without. Then the window must have beenleft open! How was it no one without had heard the noise?

  Crosby's back was to the window; he could not see that the curtainsstirred, his ear caught no sound to startle him.

  Rosmore, although he faced the window, saw nothing, heard nothing. Hiseyes were fixed upon those of his enemy, who was growing fiercer, moredeadly every moment. The end was coming. Rosmore knew it, and feltweary. Every moment his enemy's point came nearer. It was parried thistime and that, and again; but still it came. It touched him that time,not enough to scratch even, still it touched him! Next time! No, oncemore it was turned aside, and then it touched him again. It was nothing,but there was blood on his arm. In a moment that blade which had begunto dazzle him would be in his heart.

  The curtains stirred again, floating out slightly into the room.Harriet's eyes turned to Rosmore, and saw the blood on his arm. She knewthat this was the end. Then the curtains parted swiftly, and Crosby'sblade fell with a clatter to the floor. For an instant he was strugglingin the grasp of two men who had rushed upon him from behind, and wasthen borne to the ground. It was at this moment, too, that Harriet flungback the curtain from the door and stood in the room. Perhaps sheexpected Rosmore to make one late thrust at the falling man.

  For a moment there was silence.

  "Tie this handkerchief round my arm, mistress," said Rosmore; "thehonours have gone against me."

  She did as she was told.

  "Shall we secure him, sir?"

  "Yes, Sayers, but gently. I would not have him hurt. Forgive me, Crosby,I had no hand in this interruption; but, since it comes, I am glad totake advantage of it. What brought you here, Sayers?"

  "Chance," was the answer. "We were wondering where the alley led to, sawthe window unfastened, and heard the steel."

  "Thank you, Harriet," said Rosmore, as she finished binding up his arm."Help Mr. Crosby to a chair, Sayers. Give me that pistol on the tableyonder. Here is the key of the door--catch; shut the window, one of you.Now go, and wait in the passage until I call you."

  "Shall I go?" said Harriet.

  "No; stay."

  "You may well want to go, girl," said Crosby. "You have betrayed aninnocent woman into the hands of her enemies, and for reward--what hasthis man promised you for reward?"

  "Will you listen to me a moment, Mr. Crosby?" said Rosmore.

  "Your confederates have made it impossible for me to refuse."

  "That is unworthy of you," Rosmore answered. "I assure you I had noknowledge of their presence until I had made up my mind that your pointwas in my heart. I am glad they came for my own sake. I should have beena dead man had they been a moment later. I admit my defeat. TechnicallyI am in your debt. If these bottles on the table are some excuse for me,I yet own that to-night the better man won."

  "It hardly looks like it, does it?"

  "Life is full of queer chances," said Rosmore, smiling. "You could findonly two ways of ending your story. You see there is at least a third."

  "It but delays the true ending," Crosby answered.

  "No; believe me, I see in it a happy ending to the tale, but the tale isnot quite as you imagine it. It is true that I take a sincere interestin Mistress Lanison, and I grieve to think that she has somewhatmisjudged me, even as you have. You have also spoken some hard wordsagainst my valued companion here, Mistress Payne. Few men can see eye toeye, Crosby. You know Mistress Payne only as in your service--anhonourable service, I know, yet one she was not intended for. I haveseen her in different circumstances. Will you favour me by taking backthe hard words you have said?"

  "Yes, when she can prove her innocence, when she can prove that she hasnot betrayed another woman into your hands."

  "I think I can prove that," said Rosmore. "Finding Mistress Payne hereto-night may lead you to surmise many things. Strange to say, I wasbeginning to explain matters to her when we were interrupted, first byJudge Marriott, then by you. That is so, is it not?"

  "Yes," Harriet answered in a whisper.

  "The explanation may be made for your benefit, too, Mr. Crosby, butfirst let me assure you that Barbara Lanison is a woman I wouldbefriend, and is nothing more to me. Mistress Payne has done me thehonour to see in me a worthy man. As soon as this detestable work oftaking inhuman revenge on poor peasants is over, Mistress Payne willbecome Lady Rosmore--my wife."