The Toll-Gate Read online

  ‘Well, you look a degree better,’ he remarked, going over to the fire, and stirring the logs to a blaze. ‘How’s your head?’

  ‘Setting aside it’s got a lump on it the size of your fist, it ain’t so bad,’ responded Stogumber. ‘It’s a mighty hard head, d’ye see? I been asleep. Where’s t’other cove?’

  ‘Gone,’ said John, pouring the cold coffee, carefully saved by Mrs Skeffling from his breakfast-table, into a pan, and bringing it to the fire.

  ‘I’m sorry for that,’ said Stogumber, rising rather stiffly from the chair. ‘I disremember that I thanked him for what he done.’

  ‘You did, but it’s no matter: he wanted no thanks. He’s a very good fellow. Keep quiet till you’ve drunk this coffee: it’ll make you feel more the thing.’

  ‘If it’s all the same to you, big ’un, I’d as lief put my coat on again: I’ve got a bit chilly.’

  ‘As you please,’ John said indifferently. ‘I’m afraid it’s done for, however: you bled like a pig, you know! I threw it somewhere –’ he glanced over his shoulder – ‘ay, there it is! Don’t stoop! I’ll get it for you!’ He set the pan down in the hearth as he spoke, and walked over to where the coat and waistcoat lay. He had thrust the notebook under the skirt of the coat, and as he picked the coat up it was revealed. He said: ‘Hallo! This yours?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Mr Stogumber said, holding out his hand, but keeping his eyes on John’s face.

  But the Captain, casually giving him the notebook, seemed to be more interested in the condition of the coat. He showed the rent in it, and the wide patch of drying blood, to its owner, grimacing expressively. ‘You won’t wear this again,’ he remarked.

  ‘It’ll serve to keep the cold off till I get back to the Blue Boar,’ said Stogumber, rather painfully inserting his arms into his waistcoat, and beginning to do up its buttons. ‘I got another. Not but what it fair cags me to have a good coat spoilt the way that is.’

  ‘Who were they that set on you?’ asked John, easing him into the ruined garment.

  ‘Ah, that’s the question!’ said Stogumber, resuming his seat by the fire. ‘A couple of ding-boys, that’s certain! I never got a chance to tout their muns, ’cos I only saw one, and he had his muns all muffled up so as his own ma wouldn’t have known him. Where was you, while I was asleep, big ’un?’

  ‘Outside, blowing a cloud,’ replied John, knowing that the hard little eyes were fixed on his face, and not raising his own from the pan he was holding over the flames. The coffee was sizzling round the edges, and after a moment he removed it from the fire, and poured it into an earthenware mug, still conscious of that unwavering scrutiny. ‘Do you want me to lace this?’ he enquired, looking up with a smile. ‘You don’t seem to have a fever, so I daresay it won’t harm you if I add a dash of brandy to it.’

  ‘It won’t,’ said Stogumber, with conviction. ‘I’m bound to say coffee ain’t a bub as I’m in the habit of drinking, but I won’t deny it smells good – and I dessay it’ll smell better if you drop a ball o’ fire into it.’

  John laughed, and went to fetch the brandy bottle from the cupboard. Having poured a measure into the coffee, he handed the mug to his guest, and said, untruthfully, but in the most natural manner: ‘I’m damned if I know what your lay is, Stogumber, but I’ll go bail it wasn’t pound dealing that brought you here! I’ve no wish to offend you, but you seem to me a curst rum touch! It’s my belief you know who set on you tonight, and why they did so.’

  ‘Maybe I got a notion who they was,’ admitted Stogumber, cautiously sipping the laced coffee. ‘But when a man has a lump on his noddle the size of this here one of mine, it don’t do for him to set much store by his notions, because his brains is addled for the time being. What’s more, I’ve been mistook before, and I might be again, easy! The first time as I ever clapped my ogles on you, big ’un, I thought you was Quality.’ He paused, and directed a look upwards at John, under his brows. ‘Then I heard as you was the gatekeeper’s cousin, so, out of course, I see as I was mistook there.’ He sighed, and shook his head. ‘Betwattled, that’s what I am! What with owing my life to a bridle-cull, and you – which wasn’t so very friendly last time I see you – taking me in, and patching me up, like you have done, I’m danged if I know what to think! And when I don’t know what to think, it’s my way to keep me chaffer close, Mr Staple, see?’

  ‘I’m not Brean’s cousin, and you may call me Quality if you choose. Since you are putting up at the Blue Boar, I fancy you’ve a fair notion of what my lay is!’

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Stogumber, drinking some more coffee. ‘Maybe! And another notion I got, big ’un, is that you’re a dangerous sort of a cove, which would take the wind out of my eye if you could do it! Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I ain’t.’ He drained the mug, and set it down. ‘I’m beholden to you, and I don’t deny it. I wouldn’t want to do you a mischief. But if you was to try to tip me the double, Mr Staple, or to come crab over me, you want to bear in mind I’m up to slum, and I ain’t a safe cove to cross!’ He got up. ‘Thanking you kindly for all you done, I’ll brush now. You remember what I said to you!’

  ‘I’ll remember it,’ promised John. ‘Are you able to walk as far as to the village, or shall I mount you, and go with you?’

  ‘No, no, I’ll beat it on the hoof!’ Stogumber replied. ‘I’m feeling pretty stout now, and there’s no call for you to leave the gate.’

  ‘Would you like a pistol?’

  ‘Much obliged to you, no! Gabriel Stogumber ain’t caught napping twice in one night.’

  He then took his leave, and went off, leaning on his ash-plant. John watched him until he passed out of sight round the bend in the road, and then went back into the toll-house to await Chirk’s return.

  This was not long delayed. In a very few minutes, the highwayman was tossing his hat and coat on to a chair, and saying: ‘I’m to tell you, Soldier, the Squire’s not so stout today, which is why Miss Nell ain’t left the house. Seems there was a bit of a kick-up this morning, which threw Squire into some kind of convulsion. Howsever, he’s been sleeping pretty well all day, and they say as he’s middling well now.’

  ‘What happened?’ John demanded.

  ‘The butler-cove had back-words with Coate’s man,’ replied Chirk, accepting a tankard, and blowing the froth from it expertly. ‘By all accounts, he mistook one of the wenches for a light-skirt, and acted according, and she, not having a fancy for a stub-faced cull – and wapper-eyed at that, so Rose tells me! – set up a screeching fit to burst anyone’s listeners. So this old cove tells Gunn that what with him being in the habit of prigging the drink, and never coming into the house but what he’s ale-blown and uncommon full o’ bounce, he won’t have him there no more, and if he sets his foot over the threshold again, he’ll have up Squire’s groom, and the stable-boy, which is a fine, lusty lad, to take and throw him out. Then in walks Mr Henry Stornaway, and he flies into his high ropes in a brace o’ snaps, and tells the butler-cove he’s as good as master at Kellands, and things will be as he wants ’em to be. Which the butler-cove says they won’t, not while Squire’s above ground. So off goes this Henry in a twirk, and as soon as Squire’s own man is out o’ the way he goes in to see his granfer. What he said to him no one don’t know, but Squire’s man come back to find Squire fair foaming at the mouth, and trying to get out of his chair to give this Henry a leveller. Which his man was so obliging as to have done for him, which, so far as anyone could tell, Squire not being able to speak, pleased the old gager considerable. Then Miss Nell goes off and dresses Coate down like you never heard, and tells him if him or Henry goes next or nigh Squire, or Gunn sets foot in the house, she’ll have in the constable from Tideswell to heave ’em out, the whole scaff and raff of ’em. Rose had her ear to the door, misdoubting there might be a turn-up of some sort, but by what she tells me Coate did his best to come over Miss Nell with a lot o’ bamboozling talk, sayi