"My God, man," said the lieutenant, "it is a war. But there's a deal of sympathy, too. After all, in Mill Prison, somebody supplied Barney with an English uniform. If I were the commandant, I should look for a guard who had served in America and got to like the Yanks." He grinned, and Barney thought again of Thomas Browne, who had served in America. He spoke.
"Whatever else you do, Lieutenant, don't voice that opinion any more."
The coach was in the streets of Exeter now. "We're almost there," the man next to Barney said. He sat up straighter. "I've been glad to hear your story, sir." He paused, then he too grinned. "But you know what I liked? That note to Rodney. Damme, sirs, that was like Robin Hood. Here he escapes and sends a note to the admiral."
The coach came to a stop. Barney could see the innyard out the window. Another coach with four horses was standing ready, its coachman in the seat. Barney opened the door next to him; he stepped out into the yard. The lights of the inn shone out; the horses stood quietly. Barney said,
"Goodnight, Lieutenant. I hope we meet again."
The lieutenant stepped out too. He held out his hand. "Goodnight, sir," he said. "Perhaps we shall. In fact I've no doubt of it."
Almost alongside of Barney the other coach started off with a jerk. Barney shouted, "Hey there!"
He leaped for the door of the moving coach. The horses were checked for a moment. "Southampton," cried the driver.
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Barney pulled the door open. "Southampton," he answered, and almost fell into the seat.
Chapter 5
"IMPOSSIBLE," SAID LORD EDGECOMB TESTILY, "completely impossible he could walk up that gangplank, Douglass. Gad, I think he's bewitched you." He grabbed for his hat, settled it and his wig and frowned at Douglass all at the same time.
"Yes, m'lord," she said, meekly, keeping her eyes glued to the gangplank. There wasn't much more time.
He fixed her with a stem eye. "What does that affirmative mean? That you are bewitched?"
She smiled radiantly. "Oh, no."
He drew a deep breath, "Mark my words. He's still in a part of Plymouth, where respectable characters like myself wouldn't dare go." He smiled, ruefully. "A last minute word of advice, too. I don't approve of this trip, but you succeeded in making me think it necessary. But I don't advise you to go to the States. You'd be a fish out of water."
"Yes, m'lord," she said. She looked very fragile and alone, suddenly. She was dressed all in grey, with a rope of pearls and pearls gleaming in her ears. Lord Edgecomb glanced about the deck; the men aboard all looked like commercial men; there was a sprinkling of uniforms, for only necessary travel was permitted nowadays, with England at war with France and Spain, and with relations with Holland strained to the breaking point. The Belgian packet was almost the only means of communication with the continent. "I don't like this trip at all," said Lord Edgecomb forcefully.
He looked as though he might take her back with him. "But I can't leave till they get that equipage aboard," he said, while they both looked at the four magnificent horses and beautiful carriage that were being brought aboard. Four liveried men were engaged in the task, besides several members of the crew who had been impressed into helping.
Douglass had been diverted by the carriage and horses for only a
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moment. "Do you think," she said, "do you really think he cannot get out of Plymouth?"
Lord Edgecomb frowned fiercely. His gardener was mixed up in this; everyone knew that by now, and Douglass, too. "He's probably back in prison," he said shortly. "They were searching every coach that left Plymouth. You know that."
Their own coach had been stopped. She put her hand on his arm. "What will they do to him?" she asked.
"Now look here, Douglass," he said. "Don't blame me. We're doing all we can in Parliament, and every day we get a few more votes on our side. You can blame Lord Sandwich for the state of the Admiralty. They were going to try him for piracy; we stopped that."
"What will they do to him?" she asked steadily.
"When he first tried to escape and was caught, they put him in solitary confinement, in a sort of underground cell, in double irons for forty days. They threatened him with eighty days of that the next time." He caught her arm as she turned away from him. "Douglass, he's tough. Damned tough. This adventure is not new to him; it's one of many." He saw that the deck was emptying fast of all but passengers and crew. He stifled his last minute objections that rose to his lips. "I must go," he said.
Douglass extended her hand. "I'll be back soon, m'lord. I shall let you know. Thank you. Thank you very much."
Lord Edgecomb kissed her hand. He let go of it reluctantly. "Goodbye, Douglass. Don't thank me; I've done little enough—and wish I could help more. Goodbye." He bowed; he started away. At the gangplank he paused again to settle his hat; then Douglass saw his figure disappear.
She turned. She had a faint brief hope that Barney had come aboard even before herself. She would try the saloon again.
The place was crowded, and although she searched carefully, every face, Barney was not among the men who stared at her. Fumes of alcohol, tobacco smoke and Jockey Club perfume made the air of the saloon close. She came out on deck again to see that the packet was casting off.
Douglass walked slowly to the rail. She heard the shouted orders. The sails filled; they were hauling away from the dock. Douglass went fore; this was not an English ship; she flew the flag of the Austrian Netherlands. Suddenly she didn't want to see the shores
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of England disappear. She walked quickly along the deck, past the carriage which was lashed down fore. She leaned disconsolately on the rail and looked out to sea.
Behind her Barney stuck his head out of the carriage window. What he saw intrigued him; he wondered what the face he couldn't see looked like under the big hat. "Would you care to sit, madam?" he enquired of the lovely back and hips.
Douglass whirled. His face was framed in the carriage window; he looked as startled as she was; he opened the door and got out.
"I'll lay you a guinea you didn't ride aboard," he said, bowing very correctly.
Douglass swept him a curtsy. "I'll lay you a guinea you didn't recognize me till I turned either!"
They stood there on the windy deserted deck, facing each other, the long streamers of ribbon on her hat blowing as were the cascading ruffles on her dress.
"You can hardly blame me," Barney said. "It's a compliment, my lady."
She checked the retort that rose to her lips. Part of her assurance left her; she was suddenly extremely conscious of his nearness. "Oh, sir," she said, low, "you are free!" Her lashes swept up and she looked up at his face. "Let me congratulate you, Captain."
Barney grinned. "You're very formal, my lady."
She said, eyes wide, "I've never had occasion to congratulate anyone on an escape before, sir. I am thrilled by your adventure."
At this he laughed. "I am delighted to have interested you."
She was silent a moment. Then she said, "I don't know quite why it is—" she paused, her cool English accent clipping off the words, "but I seem to be a trifle—" she regarded him—"a trifle shy with you."
"Why is that, do you suppose?" he asked gravely.
"I don't know why it is," she said, shaking her head. "It puzzles me. I was waiting for you, and now that you are here, I can think of nothing to say. Would it be correct for me to ask you where you have been?"
"Quite correct," he assured her. "For two days, in Plymouth, I lay in a den of thieves."
"I see," said Douglass, incredulously, her lip caught between her teeth.
He was very amused. "I doubt if you could remotely imagine, let
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