very expert at that kind of treatment. There is a clock. Watch it.
One hour.” And he sipped his wine and watched her standing there.
Chapter 6
The Duel
Now, the moment Cragg had seen the butler close the hall door
safely upon the ladies he proceeded immediately to Queen’s College,
aroused the porter and inquired whether Doctor Syn had yet retired to
bed. The porter informed him that the Reverend Gentleman was abroad at
the house of the Chancellor. Cragg said that he had a very important
letter to be delivered to the Reverend Gentleman and would the porter be
seeing him on his return? The porter assured Cragg that he would, since
it was his duty to unlock the gate to anyone abroad after closing hour.
So Cragg left the note, crossed the road, went down a side street, came
back by another, and waited to watch in the shadows.
Both Cobtree and Syn stayed a long time with the Chancellor, who had
been delighted to see them, since many a rumor of the adventure in St.
Giles’ had reached him, and he was anxious to have the truth of the
affair. The young men were relieved to find him very sympathetic, and
indeed entirely upon their side. He agreed with them that the
neighbourhood would be the cleaner if cleared of such a rascal, but he
did not desire any scandal to fall upon the University. He pointed out
that whereas Mr. Cobtree was perfectly entitled to take up the bully’s
challenge, since he was free of the ties of studentship, Doctor Syn was
in different case.
To this Doctor Syn ha d raised objections. “Do you mean, sir, that
because one is an official of the University, any bully can insult one
with impunity?”
“I mean this, my good young Doctor,” the old man replied. “No man of
sense could call in question the honour of anyone in Holy Orders who
declined to give satisfaction, or ask it, from a noted duelist. You
have chosen a profession which must ever put the Word before the
sword.”
“And yet, sir,” argued the Doctor, “Christ Himself whipped the
moneylenders from the Temple.”
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“I am not saying that I should not be the first to applaud you were
you to give the rascal a good thrashing. But should we once countenance
dueling within College walls, why, we should have every high -spirited
young gentleman under our ch arge killing one another. No, Doctor Syn,
you have shown quite enough of your mettle by knocking the bully into
the roadway, and my advice is to let it rest at that.”
After an hour or so, the mellowness of the god old man’s excellent
advice and admirable wine imparted itself to the spirits of both the
young gentlemen, so that when they bade him farewell, and walked into
the night air, each was desirous of seeing the other to his home.
“You are a guest, Tony,” said Doctor Syn, “and you have already kept
your future relatives up too long. I will walk there with you.”
“And have you no regard for your College gate -keeper?” laughed
Cobtree. “I told my in-laws I should be late, and they have entrusted
me with their house key. I will therefore walk with you to Queen’s, and
drink a good -night glass with you. What do you say?”
“I can hardly refuse my best friend hospitality,” laughed Syn.
And thus it was the Fate gave Doctor Syn a valued ally in a great
adventure for no sooner had they rung the porter’s bell than the
Squire’s note was handed to the Doctor.
He read it by the light of the lantern in the lodge, and as he read,
his friend saw his face veiled over with determined rage.
“What is wrong, Christopher?” he asked.
Doctor Syn crumpled the letter in his hand and, bringing his fist
down with a crash upon the porter’s desk, cried out, “That settles it!
Either I or that rascal dies tonight. The Chancellor did not guess at
this. Read it and wait here. There is something I must fetch from my
chambers.”
Cobtree did not obey, but with the letter in his hand hurried after
his friend, and when the chamber door was unlocked and Doctor Syn had
lighted a candle in the cozy and familiar study, Tony smoothed the paper
and read. By the time he had finished it, with many a gasp of horror
and surprise, his friend stood before him in a long clock.
“This is a wicked lie,” cried Cobtree, flourishing the letter. “Let
us go to White Friars, where no doubt we shall find the dear ladies are
sleeping saf ely. This is but a trap to get you to Iffley.”
“By gad, Tony, you are right, I never thought of that. Come with me
to St. Giles’, and if they are not there —well, then, I am for Iffley
and the rascal’s blood.”
“Of course they will be there,” said Tony. “How could he have
dragged them from the house?”
“Well, if he has,” said Syn between clenched teeth, “I have this
about me that will rescue them,” and drawing back his cloak he tapped
the hilt of a long sword. “It was my father’s, who was but the Prince
in ‘45. He took it from my father’s dead hand. Aye, the old lawyer
died game enough, and so will I if needs be. Come on, If they have
gone, I’ll get a horse at Hobson’s. And if they are there I’ll get it
just the same and teach this rogue that parsons are first of all
gentlemen. The Chancellor may groan, but this night I fight a duel. At
least come with me to St. Giles’, but after that I go alone.”
“Come along, then,” replied Tony grimly. “We’ll get along there as
quickly as we can, and a fter we will get two horses from Hobson’s.”
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And so the two friends hurried from Queen’s to St. Giles’, where all
was quiet, as the Fair had closed.
Now, owing to the fact that the landlady at White Friars had been
extremely anxious as to the fate of Doctor Syn, the two young gentlemen
found a light burning downstairs, and on their knock upon the door it
was immediately opened. Although very glad to find the Doctor alive and
able, when she had told them about the ladies under her charge and had
read the contents of the Squire of Iffley’s letter, she was in a sore
state of panic, in which Doctor Syn and Tony had to leave her, since
their haste was urgent to rescue the ladies from what they knew would be
unspeakable torture.
As they ran toward Hobson’s stables, Doctor Syn begged Tony to go
home and leave the rest to him, which, of course, Tony refused to do.
But it was not until Doctor Syn found himself galloping neck to neck
over Magdalen Bridge alongside his friend that he realized nothing could
shake off Tony Cobtree from the perilous adventure.
“To the gates of Iffley, I suppose?” cried Tony, spurring on.
“No,” reported the Doctor. “I have a better plan. We will pick up
on our way another ally against the rascal. We will rouse the farmer I
told you about, because this is to be war to the death, and the more
upon our side the better our generalship against this rogue, who will
have a host of retainers at his back. From what I told you, I think
this farmer will not hang back now.”
“Aye,” cried Tony, riding hard. “If we ride to the gates of Iffley
they will be prepared for you, but if this fellow can ferry us over the
Isis in his boat and land us there upon the Iffley estate, we shall
attack perhaps with more surprise.”
Although the hour was very late, the young men were fortunate in
finding a light in the cowshed, where the farmer was attending to a sick