CHAPTER V
In the morning that followed this night, great gossip was interchanged between Raynham and Lobourne. The village told how Farmer Blaize, of Belthorpe Farm, had his Pick feloniously set fire to; his stables had caught fire, himself had been all but roasted alive in the attempt to rescue his cattle, of which numbers had perished in the flames. Raynham counterbalanced arson with an authentic ghost seen by Miss Clare in the left wing of the Abbeythe ghost of a lady, dressed in deep mourning, a scar on her forehead and a bloody handkerchief at her breast, frightful to behold! and no wonder the child was frightened out of her wits, and lay in a desperate state awaiting the arrival of the London doctors. It was added that the servants had all threatened to leave in a body, and that Sir Austin to appease them had promised to pull down the entire left wing, like a gentleman; for no decent creature, said Lobourne, could consent to live in a haunted house.
Rumour for the nonce had a stronger spice of truth than usual. Poor little Clare lay ill, and the calamity that had befallen Farmer Blaize, as regards his rick, was not much exaggerated. Sir Austin caused an account of it be given him at breakfast, and appeared so scrupulously anxious to hear the exact extent of injury sustained by the farmer that heavy Benson went down to inspect the scene. Mr. Benson returned, and, acting under Adrians malicious advice, framed a formal report of the catastrophe, in which the farmers breeches figured, and certain cooling applications to a part of the farmers person. Sir Austin perused it without a smile. He took occasion to have it read out before the two boys, who listened very demurely, as to ordinary newspaper incident; only when the report particularized the garments damaged, and the unwonted distressing position Farmer Blaize was reduced to in his bed, indecorous fit of sneezing laid hold of Master Ripton Thompson, and Richard bit his lip and burst into loud laughter, Ripton joining him, lost to consequences.
I trust you feel for this poor man, said Sir Austin to his son, somewhat sternly. He saw no sign of feeling.
It was a difficult task for Sir Austin to keep his old countenance toward the hope of Raynham, knowing him the accomplice-incendiary, and believing the deed to have been unprovoked and wanton. But he must do so, he knew, to let the boy have a fair trial against himself. Be it said, moreover, that the baronets possession of his sons secret flattered him. It allowed him to act, and in a measure to feel, like Providence; enabled him to observe and provide for the movements of creatures in the dark. He therefore treated the boy as he commonly did, and Richard saw no change in his father to make him think he was suspected.
The youngsters game was not so easy against Adrian. Adrian did not shoot or fish. Voluntarily he did nothing to work off the destructive nervous fluid, or whatever it may be, which is in mans nature; so that two culprit boys once in his power were not likely to taste the gentle hand of mercy; and Richard and Ripton paid for many a trout and partridge spared. At every minute of the day Ripton was thrown into sweats of suspicion that discovery was imminent, by some stray remark or message from Adrian. He was as a fish with the hook in his gills, mysteriously caught without having nibbled; and dive into what depths he would he was sensible of a summoning force that compelled him perpetually towards the gasping surface, which he seemed inevitably approaching when the dinner-bell sounded. There the talk was all of Farmer Blaize. If it dropped, Adrian revived it, and his caressing way with Ripton was just such as a keen sportsman feels toward the creature that had owned his skill, and is making its appearance for the world to acknowledge the same. Sir Austin saw the manoeuvres, and admired Adrians shrewdness. But he had to check the young natural lawyer, for the effect of so much masked examination upon Richard was growing baneful. This fish also felt the hook in his gills, but this fish was more of a pike, and lay in different waters, where there were old stumps and black roots to wind about, and defy alike strong pulling and delicate handling. In other words, Richard showed symptoms of a disposition to take refuge in lies.
You know the grounds, my dear boy, Adrian observed to him. Tell me; do you think it easy to get to the rick unperceived? I hear they suspect one of the farmers turned-off hands.
I tell you I dont know the grounds, Richard sullenly replied.
Not? Adrian counterfeited courteous astonishment. I thought Mr. Thompson said you were over there yesterday?
Ripton, glad to speak the truth, hurriedly assured Adrian that it was not he had said so.
Not? You had good sport, gentlemen, hadnt you?
Oh, yes! mumbled the wretched victims, reddening as they remembered, in Adrians slightly drawled rusticity of tone, Farmer Blaizes first address to them.
I suppose you were among the Fire-worshippers last night, too? persisted Adrian. In some countries, I hear, they manage their best sport at night-time, and beat up for game with torches. It must be a fine sight. After all, the country would be dull if we hadnt a rip here and there to treat us to a little conflagration.
A rip! laughed Richard, to his friends disgust and alarm at his daring. You dont mean this Rip, do you?
Mr. Thompson fire a rick? I should as soon suspect you, my dear boy.You are aware, young gentlemen, that it is rather a serious thing eh? In this country, you know, the landlord has always been the pet of the Laws. By the way, Adrian continued, as if diverging to another topic, you met two gentlemen of the road in your explorations yesterday, Magians. Now, if I were a magistrate of the county, like Sir Miles Papworth, my suspicions would light upon those gentlemen. A tinker and a ploughman, I think you said, Mr. Thompson. Not? Well, say two ploughmen.
More likely two tinkers, said Richard.
Oh! if you wish to exclude the ploughmanwas he out of employ?
Ripton, with Adrians eyes inveterately fixed on him, stammered an affirmative.
The tinker, or the ploughman?
The ploughm Ingenuous Ripton looking about, as if to aid himself whenever he was able to speak the truth, beheld Richards face blackening at him, and swallowed back half the word.
The ploughman! Adrian took him up cheerily. Then we have here a ploughman out of employ. Given a ploughman out of employ, and a rick burnt. The burning of a rick is an act of vengeance, and a ploughman out of employ is a vengeful animal. The rick and the ploughman are advancing to a juxtaposition. Motive being established, we have only to prove their proximity at a certain hour, and our ploughman voyages beyond seas.
Is it transportation for rick-burning? inquired Ripton aghast.
Adrian spoke solemnly: They shave your head. You are manacled. Your diet is sour bread and cheese-parings. You work in strings of twenties and thirties. ARSON is branded on your backs in an enormous A. Theological works are the sole literary recreation of the well-conducted and deserving. Consider the fate of this poor fellow, and what an act of vengeance brings him to! Do you know his name?
How should I know his name? said Richard, with an assumption of innocence painful to see.
Sir Austin remarked that no doubt it would soon be known, and Adrian perceived that he was to quiet his line, marvelling a little at the baronets blindness to what was so clear. He would not tell, for that would ruin his influence with Richard; still he wanted some present credit for his discernment and devotion. The boys got away from dinner, and, after deep consultation, agreed upon a course of conduct, which was to commiserate with Farmer Blaize loudly, and make themselves look as much like the public as it was possible for two young malefactors to look, one of whom already felt Adrians enormous A devouring his back with the fierceness of the Promethean eagle, and isolating him forever from mankind. Adrian relished their novel tactics sharply, and led them to lengths of lamentation for Farmer Blaize. Do what they might, the hook was in their gills. The farmers whip had reduced them to bodily contortions; these were decorous compared with the spiritual writhings they had to perform under Adrians manipulation. Ripton was fast becoming a coward, and Richard a liar, when next morning Austin Wentworth came over from Poer Hall bringing news that one Mr. Thomas Bakewell, yeoman, had been arrested on suspicion of the crime of Arson and lodged in jail, awaiting the magisterial pleasure of Sir Miles Papworth. Austins eye rested on Richard as he spoke these terrible tidings. The hope of Raynham returned his look, perfectly calm, and had, moreover, the presence of mind not to look at Ripton.
CHAPTER VI
As soon as they could escape, the boys got together into an obscure corner of the park, and there took counsel of their extremity.
Whatever shall we do now? asked Ripton of his leader.
Scorpion girt with fire was never in a more terrible prison-house than poor Ripton, around whom the raging element he had assisted to create seemed to be drawing momently narrower circles.
Theres only one chance, said Richard, coming to a dead halt, and folding his arms resolutely.
His comrade inquired with the utmost eagerness what that chance might be.
Richard fixed his eyes on a flint, and replied: We must rescue that fellow from jail.
Ripton gazed at his leader, and fell back with astonishment. My dear Ricky! but how are we to do it?
Richard, still perusing his flint, replied: We must manage to get a file in to him and a rope. It can be done, I tell you. I dont care what I pay. I dont care what I do. He must be got out.
Bother that old Blaize! exclaimed Ripton, taking off his cap to wipe his frenzied forehead, and brought down his friends reproof.
Never mind old Blaize now. Talk about letting it out! Look at you. Im ashamed of you. You talk about Robin Hood and King Richard! Why, you havent an atom of courage. Why, you let it out every second of the day. Whenever Rady begins speaking you start; I can see the perspiration rolling down you. Are you afraid?And then you contradict yourself. You never keep to one story. Now, follow me. We must risk everything to get him out. Mind that! And keep out of Adrians way as much as you can. And keep to one story.
With these sage directions the young leader marched his companion-culprit down to inspect the jail where Tom Bakewell lay groaning over the results of the super-mundane conflict, and the victim of it that he was.
In Lobourne Austin Wentworth had the reputation of the poor mans friend; a title he earned more largely ere he went to the reward God alone can give to that supreme virtue. Dame Bakewell, the mother of Tom, on hearing of her sons arrest, had run to comfort him and render him what help she could; but this was only sighs and tears, and, oh deary me! which only perplexed poor Tom, who bade her leave an unlucky chap to his fate, and not make himself a thundering villain. Whereat the dame begged him to take heart, and he should have a true comforter. And though its a gentleman thats coming to you, Tomfor he never refuses a poor body, said Mrs. Bakewell, its a true Christian, Tom! and the Lord knows if the sight of him maynt be the saving of you, for hes light to look on, and a sermon to listen to, he is!
Tom was not prepossessed by the prospect of a sermon, and looked a sullen dog enough when Austin entered his cell. He was surprised at the end of half-an-hour to find himself engaged in man-to-man conversation with a gentleman and a Christian. When Austin rose to go Tom begged permission to shake his hand.
Take and tell young master up at the Abbey that I ant the chap to peach. Hell know. Hes a young gentleman asll make any man do as he wants em! Hes a mortal wild young gentleman! And Im a Ass! Thats where tis. But I ant a blackguard. Tell him that, sir!
This was how it came that Austin eyed young Richard seriously while he told the news at Raynham. The boy was shy of Austin more than of Adrian. Why, he did not know; but he made it a hard task for Austin to catch him alone, and turned sulky that instant. Austin was not clever like Adrian: he seldom divined other peoples ideas, and always went the direct road to his object; so instead of beating about and setting the boy on the alert at all points, crammed to the muzzle with lies, he just said, Tom Bakewell told me to let you know he does not intend to peach on you, and left him.
Richard repeated the intelligence to Ripton, who cried aloud that Tom was a brick.
He shant suffer for it, said Richard, and pondered on a thicker rope and sharper file.
But will your cousin tell? was Riptons reflection.
He! Richards lip expressed contempt. A ploughman refuses to peach, and you ask if one of our family will?
Ripton stood for the twentieth time reproved on this point.
The boys had examined the outer walls of the jail, and arrived at the conclusion that Toms escape might be managed if Tom had spirit, and the rope and file could be anyway reached to him. But to do this, somebody must gain admittance to his cell, and who was to be taken into their confidence?
Try your cousin, Ripton suggested, after much debate.
Richard, smiling, wished to know if he meant Adrian.
No, no! Ripton hurriedly reassured him. Austin.
The same idea was knocking at Richards head.
Lets get the rope and file first, said he, and to Bursley they went for those implements to defeat the law, Ripton procuring the file at one shop and Richard the rope at another, with such masterly cunning did they lay their measures for the avoidance of every possible chance of detection. And better to assure this, in a wood outside Bursley Richard stripped to his shirt and wound the rope round his body, tasting the tortures of anchorites and penitential friars, that nothing should be risked to make Toms escape a certainty. Sir Austin saw the marks at night as his son lay asleep, through the half-opened folds of his bed-gown.
It was a severe stroke when, after all their stratagems and trouble, Austin Wentworth refused the office the boys had zealously designed for him. Time pressed. In a few days poor Tom would have to face the redoubtable Sir Miles, and get committed, for rumours of overwhelming evidence to convict him were rife about Lobourne, and Farmer Blaizes wrath was unappeasable. Again and again young Richard begged his cousin not to see him disgraced, and to help him in this extremity. Austin smiled on him.
My dear Ricky, said he, there are two ways of getting out of a scrape: a long way and a short way. When youve tried the roundabout method, and failed, come to me, and Ill show you the straight route.
Richard was too entirely bent upon the roundabout method to consider this advice more than empty words, and only ground his teeth at Austins unkind refusal.
He imparted to Ripton, at the eleventh hour, that they must do it themselves, to which Ripton heavily assented.
On the day preceding poor Toms doomed appearance before the magistrate, Dame Bakewell had an interview with Austin, who went to Raynham immediately, and sought Adrians counsel upon what was to be done. Homeric laughter and nothing else could be got out of Adrian when he heard of the doings of these desperate boys: how they had entered Dame Bakewells smallest of retail shops, and purchased tea, sugar, candles, and comfits of every description, till the shop was clear of customers: how they had then hurried her into her little back-parlour, where Richard had torn open his shirt and revealed the coils of rope, and Ripton displayed the point of a file from a serpentine recess in his jacket: how they had then told the astonished woman that the rope she saw and the file she saw were instruments for the liberation of her son; that there existed no other means on earth to save him, they, the boys, having unsuccessfully attempted all: how upon that Richard had tried with the utmost earnestness to persuade her to disrobe and wind the rope round her own person: and Ripton had aired his eloquence to induce her to secrete the file: how, when she resolutely objected to the rope, both boys began backing the file, and in an evil hour, she feared, said Dame Bakewell, she had rewarded the gracious permission given her by Sir Miles Papworth to visit her son, by tempting Tom to file the Law. Though, thanks be to the Lord! Dame Bakewell added, Tom had turned up his nose at the file, and so she had told young Master Richard, who swore very bad for a young gentleman.