The Toll-Gate Read online

  John rinsed the soap from his hands, and turned to pick up the towel. ‘There’s nothing I should like better, but – I have seen your mistress this morning, and she tells me that he must not be worried by visitors.’

  ‘He won’t be worrited,’ responded Lydd calmly. ‘The only thing as ’ud worrit him ’ud be if we wasn’t to obey orders. What’s more, Miss Nell don’t know as he wants to see you, guv’nor, because he ain’t told her, nor no one’s got to tell her.’

  ‘What does his valet say?’ John asked abruptly.

  ‘He says as Squire’s got something on his mind, and he’d as lief have it took off. He did take the liberty of suggesting to Squire as p’raps he hadn’t better have no visitor today, but he got his nose snapped off for his pains, Squire being on his high ropes, and telling the pair of us he ain’t burnt to the socket yet. Damned our eyes proper, he did,’ said Lydd, with simple pride.

  ‘If he is well enough to see me this evening, I’ll come,’ John said. ‘But I can’t leave the boy alone here after dark: he’s scared. Will you mind the gate for me?’

  ‘That’s all right and tight, guv’nor. The way Mr Winkfield and me has it planned, I’ve sent the stable lad off home, and told him he needn’t come back till the morning, so there won’t be no one in the stables, them two beauties of Mr Henry’s and Mr Coate’s, which calls themselves grooms, taking themselves off regular to the boozing-ken up the road each evening. If they’re back afore midnight it’ll be for the first time, nor it wouldn’t matter if they was, because they’ll be too muddled to notice a strange horse – even if they was to go into the stables, which I never knew them do yet, not at that time o’ night. You don’t catch them making sure all’s right afore they turns in!’ said Lydd, with bitter scorn. ‘If Squire’s still of the same mind, I’ll come along here when he’s had his dinner, and I’ll tell you the way. It ain’t difficult, and the moon’ll be up. All you got to do, guv’nor, is to turn in the first gate you come to, right-handed, a matter of a mile up the road. It’ll take you to the stables: it don’t go past the house. There’s a path which leads up to the side-door: you can’t mistake it. Mr Winkfield will be there to take you to Squire.’

  Thus it came about that when Ben, released after his dinner from attendance on the gate, returned at dusk after an afternoon of illicit adventure with Master Biggin, he was surprised to find the Captain’s horse stabled once more in the shed. When he slid, somewhat guiltily, into the kitchen, he was startled to perceive that his protector was wearing the shirt ironed that morning by Mrs Skeffling, a well-tied cravat, and his top-boots. He had not put on his coat or his waistcoat, and he was engaged in the homely occupation of frying eggs in a pan over the fire, but those gleaming top-boots filled Ben with foreboding. In patent dismay he stood staring up at the Captain, his ruddy cheeks whitening.

  John turned his head, surveying him with the hint of a smile in his eyes. ‘I suppose, if I did my duty by you, I should send you supperless to bed, shouldn’t I?’ he remarked. ‘What devilry have you been up to, you young rascal?’

  ‘Guv’nor – you ain’t going away?’ Ben blurted out, his lip trembling.

  ‘No, I’m not going away, but I have to go out this evening. You needn’t look so scared, you silly little noddy! Mr Lydd is coming to mind the gate, so you won’t be alone.’

  ‘You’re going to tip the double!’ Ben said, his face sharp with suspicion. ‘Don’t go, guv’nor, don’t go! You said you wouldn’t leave me, not till me dad comes back!’

  ‘Listen, Ben! Whatever happens, I shan’t go away without telling you! You’ll find me here when you wake up in the morning: that’s a promise! Mr Lydd will stay here till I come back. Now, you wash all that dirt off your face and hands, and set the plates out!’

  Ben, whose experience had not taught him to place any degree of reliance on the promises of his elders, burst into tears, and reiterated his conviction that he was to be left to his fate.

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed John, setting the frying pan down in the hearth. ‘Come here, you wretched little goosecap!’ He picked up a candle, took Ben by the ear, and led him to Brean’s bedroom. ‘Does that look as though I meant to run away?’

  Ben stopped knuckling his eyes. When he had assimilated the fact that the Captain’s ivory brushes still graced the chest of drawers, together with his shaving tackle, and the knife he used for paring his nails, he became very much more cheerful; and by the time Joseph Lydd arrived at the toll-house, soon after eight o’clock, he was able to greet him with perfect equanimity.

  Lydd, who was riding the cob, slid from the saddle, and winked broadly at the Captain. ‘You’re looked for, sir,’ he said. ‘Pretty bobbish he is – considering!’

  ‘Bring the cob round the back, to the shed, then,’ John said. ‘Beau’s there. I must saddle-up.’

  ‘Begging your pardon, guv’nor, that’s my trade! Come on, booberkin! You show me this big prancer I’ve heard so much about!’

  Half an hour later, Captain Staple trod up the path which led from the stables at Kellands to the eastern wing of the house. As he approached it, a door was opened, and lamp-light showed him the silhouette of a man, who stood aside, and bowed, saying, in a quiet, precise voice: ‘Good evening, sir. Will you be pleased to step this way?’

  Captain Staple, entering the house, found himself in a flagged passage. An old chest stood against one wall, and he laid his hat and whip on this. As he straightened his cravat, he glanced down at Winkfield, seeing an elderly man, with grizzled hair, a pair of steady gray eyes set in an impassive countenance, and the unmistakable stamp of the gentleman’s gentleman. ‘You’re Sir Peter’s man? How is your master?’

  Some flicker of emotion crossed Winkfield’s face. He replied: ‘He is – as well as can be expected, sir. If you will follow me – ? You will excuse my taking you up this staircase: it is not desirable that I should conduct you to the main hall.’

  ‘No, I know. I am quite ready.’

  He was led up to the gallery where the Squire’s rooms were situated, and ushered into the dressing-room. ‘What name should I say, sir?’ enquired Winkfield.

  ‘Captain Staple.’

  ‘Winkfield bowed again, and opened the door into the big bedchamber. Sir Peter was seated in his wing-chair, motionless; and beside him, reading to him a sporting article in one of the weekly journals, was his granddaughter. She looked up as the door opened.

  ‘Captain Staple!’ said Winkfield.

  Nine

  The journal was cast aside; Nell rose swiftly, her face a study of conflicting emotions. Astonishment, incredulity, anger were all there. She looked magnificent, her eyes flaming, her colour suddenly heightened, and her breast, very white against the green of her old velvet gown, heaving with her quickened breath. Captain Staple, pausing on the threshold, met the challenge and the reproach in her eyes with the ghost of a rueful smile, and the slightest shake of his head.

  ‘Pray come in, Captain Staple!’

  The words, which were uttered by her grandfather, made Nell look quickly down at him, a still greater astonishment widening her eyes. He had raised his head, and was holding his quizzing-glass up. Through it he unhurriedly surveyed the Captain from head to foot. Then he let it fall, and held out his hand. ‘How do you do? I am glad that you have found yourself able to visit me, sir. You will forgive me for not rising to greet you: it is not, I regret to say, within my power to get up without assistance.’

  The Captain came across the room, and took the hand in his. ‘How do you do, sir? It is I, rather, who should ask your pardon for coming to you so improperly dressed. Indeed, I have never more regretted being parted from my baggage!’

  Sir Peter sought his quizzing-glass again, and levelled it. ‘Just as I thought: Scott!’ he remarked.

  The Captain smiled. ‘Why, yes, sir!’

  ‘Schultz used to make my coats, but you military men always g