"Wal," said Burke, settling down at his length, "look out for fireworks; and if you're waking, call me early——"
"If we're waking!" said the other with a momentary gloom. "It's just possible that we may not wake."
Fisher and the nigger had been asleep toward the end of the talk; and though the bed of rushes did not suggest the quiet of dreams, the others, who had scarce closed their eyes during two days and nights, now endeavoured to imitate them. The fact that the prison lacked a wall was in no way to be regretted in the heat of the early morning hours; and, for the matter of that, the spires and domes of the castle, shining below them in a flood of moonlight, gave rest to the eye and a picture of exceeding beauty. From the great arch, which lacked glass, they could look over the spread of the park away to the rippling sheen of the sea, and to the hill above the haven where their money lay. Nor was it to their comfort that they observed torches flaring here and there like elf-fires upon the beach; and saw, on the more open swards of the downs, companies of men moving from place to place; and heard the shrill crying echoing from hill to hill as the signals were given or answered. Such a spectacle suggested many things, to Messenger, at any rate; and he, knowing the large probability that their haven would be discovered, saw in its discovery the corollary of his own death and of those with him. For it was as certain as the rise of the moon that, once she had her hand upon the bullion, the Spanish woman would give no quarter, nor parley for a moment with the outcasts over whom chance had given her the mastery.
Such logical forebodings held the man from sleep for many hours. He sat watching the path of the torches, which appeared and disappeared like a Jack-o'-lantern. Oftentimes his heart quaked as he heard some unusually loud hail, and he said to himself: "They have found the creek." He was cold with a piercing chill at the mere sight of a lugger in the offing. But his fears, for that night at the least, were quieted in the middle watch when, of a sudden, the British warship which had been cruising on the coast anchored in the bay; and the lights upon the beach were instantly extinguished, while parties of Spaniards came running up to the great house and crowded into the court-yards. Then a deep stillness succeeded, and, believing that the danger was past, he lay upon the mattress of rushes and slept with profound languor for many hours.
When he awoke, he found himself, to his unutterable surprise, in another room. He had observed the change as he opened his eyes and saw, in place of the bare stone and the rushes, a panelled ceiling of oak and the posts of a wooden bed upon which he lay. He was now in a room which had some stamp of civilisation—an arm-chair of leather, a table with books upon it, a glass above the chimney, and a timepiece set above his bed. He saw then that it was five o'clock, and, by the fall of the sun's rays and the heat, he knew that he had slept for twelve hours, and that the wine which he had taken had compelled him to the utter oblivion. Indeed, he felt a great weariness in his limbs, a difficulty to set out events in order in his mind; and when he rose to his feet, giddiness seized upon him, and he reeled into the chair. Do what he would, he could conjure no ordered picture of the yestereve; could bring his brain to no recollection of the absolute circumstances of the day he had passed through. Nothing but the ephemeral and flitting impressions of scenes and persons could he grasp; and for a long while he sat with the vacuous stare of the demented or the wandering.
The awakening from this state of mental coma was a violent one. He had walked round his room twice, taking scant observation of its contents, and then had turned to gaze upon the greensward of a small but highly walled court upon which his windows gave. He could look from his casement down upon the whole face of this enclosure, over whose grass high chestnut-trees cast a welcome shade, and suggested by the lazy rustling of their leaves that the atmosphere was not sleeping even under the sun's rays. At the first there was nothing in the grass court to interest him in any way or to call his mind to coherence; but at the second look his blood seemed to freeze within him, and he caught at the window for support. For the body of Burke, the skipper, was hanging from the lowest branch of the hither tree, and swayed upon the rope which held it, so that there was no doubt of the man's death, though his face was hidden by the foliage, and little but his legs could be seen.
"THE BODY OF BURKE, THE SKIPPER, WAS HANGING FROM THE LOWEST BRANCH"
The sight, as I have said, brought Messenger's mind instantly to its work. Under the shock the events of the night recurred to him quickly. He remembered every word he had spoken to the woman; he could narrate again his last conversation with the man whose body now hung from the tree; nice points of argument with himself were again before him. And of these the first he discussed was the point which the hideous sight in the courtyard suggested to him. Why had the woman hanged Burke? There was only one suggestion possible. She had done it to frighten the three who lived. It was the lesson she was to teach him. But it had no such sequence for a man of his feeling, at any rate. Another would have thought, if but for a moment, tenderly of one who had worked with him, sharing possibilities and dangers, evil luck and good chance, hard board and free fare; but Messenger had no such thought. "There is one less to share," said he; and he flung himself in his chair again, but this time to think with unclouded mind.
The woman had not found the money; that was clear; and if the British cruiser were still in the offing, she had probably ceased to search for it. He asked himself, what if he could make terms, and trust to the after-days to make them better terms? She was only an adventuress, after all; once he were in possession of substance, it were ill luck if he could not play the stronger hand. He did not forget, however, that any moment might take from him the power of barter at all. If she found the creek, then he would hang with Burke. He must act, therefore, on the inspiration if he would save his neck and Fisher's. It was curious that in all his scheming this thought of the lad came to him, yet come it did; and he knew that if he had seen the boy's body hanging where Burke's was the sight would have been almost unbearable to him. But he seemed to feel that Fisher still lived; and, desiring to speak to the woman quickly, he beat upon the door, and after continued knocking it was opened, and the Spaniard stood before him.
Somewhat to his surprise, the man desired no intimation of his object. No sooner had he appeared than he nodded greeting to the prisoner, and at once led the way from the chamber. They passed together down a long corridor of stone, and, thence seeming to come into the main building again, they continued on through a vast room whose oaken walls were hung with armour, and so through a suite of gilded but faded apartments until they reached the hall of fountains and the room where the woman had sat at her first reception.
It was not in this room that Messenger was now received, but in a smaller chamber behind the panel which had opened so mysteriously at the woman's touch on the previous evening. Here sat the crone perched up in a great arm-chair, but she was not alone. A ragged man, who carried a ragged cap in his hand, stood at her side, and was talking to her with a wealth of gesture which implied an exciting narrative. Nor did she betray any surprise that the Englishman had come suddenly to her; rather, she welcomed him, and at once began to speak.
"I was about to send for you," said she. "There is news from the hills, and bad news, I fear. A company of carabineers left Vivero at dawn, and is now encamped five miles from here. There is an Englishman at the head of it, and as far as I can learn this house is its destination."
At this news the Prince paled for the second time since he had left London.
"Are you quite sure of your information?" he asked.
"As sure as I can be from the words of this messenger. He thinks that another company has left Ferrol, and that the hills are full of men. We may expect a visit any time between now and midnight!"
Messenger took a turn up the room, his hands plunged into his pockets, and his teeth pressing hard into his lips. For the moment his mind reeled as the danger seemed to close him, look where he would; but suddenly he stopped before the woman, and asked another question.
"Tell me," said he, "have you any way leading from this house which is not likely to be a high-road for troops?"
She laughed at the simplicity of the question.
"Do