His wits were working fast and coldly. He had only a little time. It was providence that the tide had swung the "Alice" about so that her bow was presented to the beach; the officers eating in the after-cabin could not see the shore from the portholes. On the beach were a few loungers.
The bow of the boat touched the sand. Barney stepped out, motioning to the men. "Help me with this," he commanded.
The men obeyed automatically. They eyed him and the uniform he wore with respect. They dragged the boat up onto the sand, well away from the tide. One of the men said:
"I'm the customs man, sir." He smiled.
Barney nodded alertly. "I'm the prize officer," he responded.
The customs man indicated the fishing smack riding close to the "Alice." "Is that a prize?"
"Yes," said Barney, starting to move away.
The other said then, "You've hurt your leg, sir!"
Barney looked down. Blood was trickling down his leg where he had hit the boat as he had jumped for it. "Yes. I'd best get something on it." Then he thought of something else. "Where are my men?"
The customs man said, "At the Red Lion, sir. Right down—the last house in the village."
17
"Thank you," said Barney. He would have to pass right by it. He would have to take a chance that if they saw him, they would not know that he was not the officer he appeared to be. Boldly he started down the road past the cottages. His nearest refuge was the maze of Plymouth's waterfront. Plymouth would have to do, for the anonymity of London was too far away. Yet he did not dare cross by way of the public ferry. Undoubtedly, by the time he would reach it, it would be policed, and they would be looking for him.
The Red Lion's windows were open, and he could hear a song sung by the men inside. He quickened his pace. He had almost passed by when he heard a voice say from the doorway:
"Lieutenant!"
Barney stiffened. He brought his head up, and made his voice curt. "Yes?"
The man who had spoken ambled toward him. He came to stand right in front of Barney, who could see more men clustered in the doorway. How much did they suspect?
"Speak up," Barney snapped.
"Are you all squared away with Captain Underwood?"
Barney perceived his hesitancy.
"Damn your impudence," said he, "who gave you leave to question me?"
The man hung back. Now that he had spoken he regretted it. Barney gave him a hard look, and walked straight at him; the man backed. Barney moved down the road, and behind him, the man who had questioned him returned with relief into the Red Lion.
Alone, Barney turned the bend of the road. It was time to run. He broke into an even jog. As he did, he tried to estimate his strength. How long would it last?
He gauged it carefully. He trotted about a mile before he came to a sudden halt. So far as he could see, the winding road was still empty. He sat down on a rock for a moment to catch his breath and listen carefully. For he was running straight toward Plymouth, and it was from this direction that pursuit would come from Mill Prison. He heard nothing. He rose, calculating that he could run for at least another half mile.
He did. At the end of that half mile, he stopped again. Beside the road was a thick hedge. He peered over the top of it. He saw well-kept lawns, and he knew they would slope down to the river. At the
18
same moment he heard horses in the distance. It was a matter of minutes before they would be upon him.
The hedge was thick and tough. He forced his way through. Branches cracked and fought hard to keep him out, but the resilient hedge snapped back into place when he stood on its other side. He was breathing fast, and he knew his strength was waning. He was looking straight at an elderly gardener. This man said:
"These be Lord Edgecomb's gardens. Was you expected, sir?"
Barney dug in his pocket. He tendered a guinea. He smiled at the old man. "My apologies," he said easily, "for damaging your hedge."
Matthew handled the money questioningly. A troop of soldiers cantered past on the road. Matthew wondered where they were going. The horsemen galloped past, raising a cloud of dust. It floated over the hedge, and the sound of the hoofs drowned out Matthew's question. Matthew repeated it.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Barney looked at the tanned, weatherbeaten face. "Yes, you can," he said. "I've hurt my leg and I'm looking for the shortest way back to Plymouth, Do you have a dock on the river?"
Matthew nodded. "It's past the summerhouse. I'll walk down with you and show you."
Chapter 3
THE RIVER WAS SILVER GREY IN THE DUSK. The day was dying fast now, as Douglass Harris came out onto the terrace for a stroll after supper. In the distance, down by the river, she saw two men.
One of them was Matthew, The other— She drew in her breath. Without thought she started to run; picking up her skirts with both hands she fled across the smooth lawn, past the rosebeds, past the line of yews, coming up sharp at the end of the last flower bed. He had gone into the summerhouse and Matthew was going away to his own cottage. Douglass, breathing fast from her run, stood stock-still for a moment, then she went forward again, her feet making no sound on the grass.
It seemed almost that as she went the last few feet to the summer-
19
house the whole day had darkened. Her feet slowed again. Dusk lay like a curtain over the lattices. The trees sighed; she heard the sound of the water, rippling. A star hung over the top of the tallest tree. Douglass stepped up the one step. She lifted her hand. Slowly she pushed the lattice door open.
The door swung gently, slowly, opening back on its hinges. She saw nothing. She stepped inside. "Oh," she gasped, catching her red underlip in her teeth. For the door had shut and Barney stood over her, close, looking down at her; she was imprisoned between the door and him.
She pressed back against the wood; she could say nothing. For the first time she heard his voice, low, with its American drawl.
"Do not cry out!"
Her eyes were enormous in her white face, her heart pounded. Once more his low voice came.
"I will not hurt you, madam."
"I know, but—" She broke off.
Everything she had heard or read about him was going through her head, spinning. She swayed, putting her hands out. She felt his arms go around her, and she grasped the lapels of his coat in both hands. "I'm terrified of you," she whispered into his chest. Slowly she raised her head, tipping it back, to study his face. "But I shan't give you away."
"No?" asked Barney. "Why not?"
He heard her draw in her breath again. "Why, because we are Whigs and sympathize with your cause."
"I see," said Barney solemnly. She meant this sincerely. "You saw me come in here?"
She nodded wordlessly, hanging onto his coat.
"Was anyone with you?"
"No," she breathed.
Barney remembered the name the gardener had used. "Are you Lady Edgecomb?"
"No. No!"
She was amazed to see him smile. "Did you drop from heaven?"
She could hardly believe he had asked the question. Her eyes grew even wider, the arms around her were strong; she became aware he was asking her another question. "Do you live here?"
"I'm visiting here, waiting for the Brussels packet!"
She threw out the explanation. She remembered the image of him
20
this morning, in the prison yard, but this was different. Now she was aware only of the strength and dominance of him, towering over her in the dusk. "How—" Her voice trailed off.
He said briefly, "My escape is known now. They are after me.
She had seen the soldiers. She looked around at the tiny room in which they stood as if to reassure herself they were alone. In the quiet she heard no sound save that of the river.