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Read Ebook: The Honourable Mr. Tawnish by Farnol Jeffery Brock C E Charles Edmund Illustrator
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Ebook has 191 lines and 10016 words, and 4 pages
toe of his boot, "you wouldn't go for to cheat me out of your breeches, would you? Come now, master, off with 'em, I say, for look ye, I mislike to be kept waiting for a thing as I wants--such being my natur', d'ye take me?"
Sir Harry Raikes stood rigid, his face dead white--only his burning eyes and twitching mouth told of the baffled fury that was beyond all words. Twice he essayed to speak and could not--once he turned to look at us with an expression of such hopeless misery and mute appeal as moved even me to pity. As for the highwayman, he began to whistle and swing his legs once more.
"Bentley," says I, "this must go no farther."
"What can we do?" gasped Bentley, and laid his heavy hand upon my arm.
"Come," says the fellow again, rising to his feet.
"No," cries Raikes, in a choking voice, "not for all the devils in hell!"
"I'll count five," grinned the fellow, and he levelled his pistols.
"One!" says he, but Raikes never stirred--"Two," the harsh, inexorable voice went on, "three--four--" There was a sudden wild sob, and Sir Harry Raikes was shivering in his hat and shirt. The highwayman now turned his attention to Raikes's horse--though keeping a wary eye upon us--and having drawn both pistols from their holsters, motioned him to remount. Sir Harry obeyed with never so much as a word; which done, the fellow gave a whistle, upon which a horse appeared from the shadow of the hedge beyond, from whose saddle he took two lengths of cord, and beckoning to the Captain, set him to bind Raikes very securely to the stirrup-leathers. As one in a dream the Captain proceeded about it , but it was done at last.
"Now, my masters," says the fellow briskly, "I must trouble each one of you for his barkers--and no tricks, mark me, no tricks!" With this he nodded to Bentley, who yielded up his weapons after a momentary hesitation, while the Captain seemed positively eager to part with his, and I in my turn was necessitated to do the same.
It may be a matter of wonder to some, that one man could so easily disarm four, but 'tis readily understood if you have looked into the muzzle of a horse-pistol held within a few inches of your head.
Thus, all being completed, the highwayman, having mounted, gave us the word to proceed, Bentley and I riding first, then Raikes and the Captain, and last of all the fellow, pistol in hand. So thus it was, in the dusk of the evening, that we came into Tonbridge Town, with never a word betwixt us--myself silent from sheer amazement, the Captain for reasons of his own, Sir Harry Raikes for very obvious causes, but mostly on account of his chattering teeth, and Bentley because a man cannot whistle "Lillibuleero" beneath his breath and talk at the same time.
Lights were beginning to gleam at windows as we entered the High Street, and here I made sure the highwayman would have left us--but no, on turning my head, there he rode, close behind--his battered hat over his nose, and his pistol in his hand, for all the world as if we were back on the open road rather than the main thoroughfare of a Christian town.
"Masters all," says he, "'tis here we part--maybe you'll forget me--maybe not--especially one of you; d'ye take me?" and he pointed to the shivering figure of Raikes. "The wind is plaguily chill I'll allow, but burn me! could I be blamed for that, my masters--what, all silent? Well! Well! Howsomever, give me that trinket, Master--just to show there's no ill-feeling, so to speak; and he indicated a small gold locket that Raikes wore round his neck on a riband, who, without a word, or even looking up, slipped it off and laid it in the other's outstretched hand.
"Well, good-night, my masters, good-night!" says he, in his jovial voice; "maybe we shall meet again, who knows? My best respects to you all--me being respectful by natur'. Good-night." So, with an awkward flourish of his hat, he wheeled his horse and galloped away towards London.
'Twas some half-hour later that we found Jack in his library, seated before the fire, his wine at his elbow and Pen at his feet, reading aloud from Mr. Steele's "Tatler."
Upon our sudden appearance Penelope rose, and looked from myself to Bentley a trifle anxiously I thought. Now, as I made my bow to her, I heard Bentley softly begin to whistle "Lillibuleero," and though I had heard him do so many times before, it suddenly struck me that this was the air the highwayman fellow had whistled as he sat swinging his legs upon the bridge.
"Bentley, to-day is Wednesday!" I expostulated, as breaking off in the middle of a bar, he kissed Pen full upon the lips.
"To be sure it is," says he, and kissed her again upon the cheek.
"And ten o'clock," added Jack, "and time all maids were abed."
"What's to do?" says Jack, pushing the wine towards me. "I've sat here with the cards beside me ever since eight o'clock--what's to do?"
"Why, you must know," I began, "we were stopped at the cross roads by a highwayman--myself and Bentley, with Captain Hammersley and Sir Harry Raikes--"
Here Bentley, returning, must needs throw himself into a chair, laughing and choking all at once.
"Raikes--" he gasped,--"in his shirt--by the Lord! Oh, egad, Jack! fluttering in the wind--"
"What in the world!" began Jack, staring. "Is he drunk or mad?"
"As I tell you," says I, loosening Bentley's cravat, "we were stopped by a highwayman--" and forthwith I plunged into an account of the whole matter.
"Egad!" cries Bentley again, breaking in ere I was half done, "here was Dick offering Raikes a choice betwixt his horsewhip and his sword--and he, look you, a full six inches shorter in the reach, while I--"
"You!" says I, "he couldn't help but pink you somewhere or other at the first pass--"
"Well, Raikes was a-sneering as I say," pursued Bentley, "when up comes our highwayman and coolly strips him to his very shirt, Jack--ties him to his horse, and parades him all through Tonbridge--rat me!--and as I tell you, the wind, Jack--'t was cursedly cold, and--and--oh! strike me purple!" Here Bentley choked again, and while I thumped his back, he and Jack rolled in their chairs, and shook the very casements with their laughter.
"His shirt?" gasped Jack at last, wiping his eyes.
"His shirt," groaned Bentley, wiping his.
"Lord!" cries Jack, "Lord! 'twill be the talk of the town," says he, after a while.
"To be sure it will," says Bentley, and hereupon they fell a-roaring with laughter again. For my part, what betwixt thumping Bentley's back and the memory of Christmas morning now so near, I was sober enough.
They were still howling with laughter, and Bentley's face had already assumed a bluish tinge, when the door opened and a servant appeared, who handed a letter to Jack. Still laughing, he took it and broke the seal; at sight of the first words, however, his face underwent a sudden change. "Is the messenger here?" says he, very sharp.
"No, Sir John."
"Humph!" says Jack, "you may go then;" and he began to read. But he had not read a dozen words when he broke out into his customary oath.
"May the devil anoint me! Did you ever hear the like of that, now?"
"I say, did you ever hear the like of it?" he repeated. "Dick and Bentley, this fellow is the very devil!"
"Lay you fifty it's Tawnish," gurgled Bentley.
"A deuced pretty coil, on my soul!" says Jack, beginning to limp up and down, "oh, a deuced pretty coil--damn the fellow!"
"What fellow?" says I again.
"Make it a hundred?" says Bentley, in my ear.
"What fellow?" cries Jack, taking me up, "d'ye mean to sit there and ask what fellow--whom should it be?"
"Aye, who indeed?" added Bentley.
"If it's Raikes--" I began.
"Raikes," roars Jack, snatching his wig off, "Raikes--bah!"
"Then supposing you will be so very obliging as to tell us who the devil you do mean?"
"Why, aren't I trying to?" cries Jack, indignantly, "but you give a man no chance between you. Listen to this." And, having re-settled his wig, he drew the candles nearer to him and read as follows:
"'My very dear Sir John--'
"'It gives me infinite pleasure to have the honour of telling you--'
"'of telling you that the second of my tasks is now accomplished--to wit, that of making Sir Harry Raikes a laughing-stock.'"
"What?" I cried.
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