“That will let Old Peter know that Ranulph Rookwood is at hand,” exclaimed Dick. “I shan’t throw away another shot.”
The scene at the archway was now one of complete confusion. Terrified by the shots, some of the boors would have drawn back, while others, in mid career, advanced, and propelled them forwards. It was like the meeting of two tides. Here and there, regardless of the bit, and scared by the firing, a wild colt broke all bounds, and, hurling his rider in the air, darted off into the green; or, in another case, rushed forward, and encountering the prostrate cattle cumbering the entrance to the priory hall, stumbled, and precipitated his master neck-over-heels at the very feet of his enemy. During all this tumult, a few shots were fired at the highwayman, which, without doing him a jot of mischief, tended materially to increase their own confusion.
The voice of Turpin was now heard above the din and turmoil to sound a parley; and as he appeared disposed to offer no opposition, some of his antagonists ventured to raise themselves from the ground, and to approach him.
“I demand to be led to Sir Ranulph Rookwood,” said Turpin.
“He is here,” said Ranulph, riding up. “Villain, you are my prisoner.”
“As you list, Sir Ranulph,” returned Dick, coolly; “but let me have a word in private with you ere you do aught you may repent hereafter.”
“No words, sir — deliver up your arms, or ——”
“My pistols are at your service,” replied Dick. “I have just discharged them.”
“You may have others. We must search you.”
“Hold!” cried Dick; “if you will not listen to me, read that paper.” And he handed Ranulph his mother’s letter to Mr. Coates. It was without the superscription, which he had thrown aside.
“My mother’s hand!” exclaimed Ranulph, reddening with anger, as he hastily perused its contents. “And she sent this to you? You lie, villain —’tis a forgery.”
“Let this speak for me,” returned Dick, holding out the finger upon which Lady Rookwood’s ring was placed. “Know you that cipher?”
“You have stolen it,” retorted Ranulph. “My mother,” added he, in a deep, stern whisper, articulated only for Turpin’s hearing, “would never have entrusted her honor to a highwayman’s keeping.”
“She has entrusted more — her life,” replied Dick, in a careless tone. “She would have bribed me to do murder.”
“Murder!” echoed Ranulph, aghast.
“Ay, to murder your brother,” returned Dick; “but let that pass. You have read that note. I have acted solely upon your mother’s responsibility. Lady Rookwood’s honor is pledged for my safety. Of course her son will set me free.”
“Never!”
“Well, as you please. Your mother is in my power. Betray me, and you betray her.”
“No more!” returned Ranulph, sternly. “Go your ways. You are free.”
“Pledge me your word of honor I am safe.” Ranulph had scarcely given his pledge, when Major Mowbray rode furiously up. A deep flush of anger burnt upon his cheeks; his sword was drawn in his hand. He glanced at Turpin, as if he would have felled him from his saddle.
“This is the ruffian,” cried the major, fiercely, “by whom I was attacked some months ago, and for whose apprehension the reward of three hundred pounds is offered by his majesty’s proclamation, with a free pardon to his accomplices. This is Richard Turpin. He has just added another crime to his many offences. He has robbed my mother and sister. The postboy knew him the moment he came up. Where are they, villain? Whither are they gone? — answer!”
“I know not,” replied Turpin, calmly. “Did not the lad tell you they were rescued?”
“Rescued! — by whom?” asked Ranulph, with great emotion.
“By one who calls himself Sir Luke Rookwood,” answered Turpin, with a meaning smile.
“By him!” ejaculated Ranulph. “Where are they now?”
“I have already answered that question,” said Dick. “I repeat, I know not.”
“You are my prisoner,” cried the major, seizing Turpin’s bridle.
“I have Sir Ranulph’s word for my safety,” rejoined Turpin. “Let go my rein.”
“How is this?” asked Major Mowbray, incredulously.
“Ask me not. Release him,” replied Ranulph.
“Ranulph,” said the major, “you ask an impossibility. My honor — my duty — is implicated in this man’s capture.”
“The honor of all of us is involved in his deliverance,” returned Ranulph, in a whisper. “Let him go. I will explain all hereafter. Let us search for them — for Eleanor. Surely, after this, you will help us to find them,” added he, addressing Turpin.
“I wish, with all my soul, I could do so,” replied the highwayman.
“I see’d the ladies cross the brook, and enter these old ruins,” interposed the postboy, who had now joined the party. “I see’d ’em from where I stood on the hill-side; and as I kept a pretty sharp look-out, and have a tolerably bright eye of my own, I don’t think as how they ever comed out again.”
“Some one is hidden within yon fissure in the wall,” exclaimed Ranulph; “I see a figure move.”
And he flung himself from his horse, rushing towards the mouth of the cell. Imitating his example, Major Mowbray followed his friend, sword in hand.
“The game begins now in right earnest,” said Dick to himself; “the old fox will be soon unearthed. I must look to my snappers.” And he thrust his hand quietly into his pocket in search of a pistol.
Just as Ranulph and the major reached the recess they were startled by the sudden apparition of the ill-fated attorney.
“Mr. Coates!” exclaimed Ranulph, in surprise. “What do you here, sir?”
“I— I— that is — Sir Ranulph — you must excuse me, sir — particular business — can’t say,” returned the trembling attorney; for at this instant his eye caught that of Turpin, and the ominous reflexion of a polished-steel barrel, held carelessly towards him. He was aware, also, that on the other hand he was, in like manner, the mark of Rust and Wilder; those polite gentlemen having threatened him with a brace of slugs in his brain if he dared to betray their hiding-place. “It is necessary that I should be guarded in my answers,” murmured he.
“Is there any one within that place besides yourself?” said the major, making a movement thither.
“No, sir, nobody at all,” answered Coates, hastily, fancying at the same time that he heard the click of the pistol that was to be his death-warrant.
“How came you here, sir?” demanded Ranulph.
“Do you mean in this identical spot?” replied Coates, evasively.
“You can have no difficulty in answering that question,” said the major, sternly.
“Pardon me, sir. I find considerable difficulty in answering any question, situated as I am.”
“Have you seen Miss Mowbray?” asked Ranulph, eagerly.
“Or my mother?” said the major, in the same breath.
“Neither,” replied Coates, rather relieved by these questions.
“I suspect you are deceiving us, sir,” said the major. “Your manner is confused. I am convinced you know more of this matter than you choose to explain; and if you do not satisfy me at