Tom Tufton's Travels by Evelyn Everett-Green (freda ebook reader .TXT) 📕

"It begins to get hot for saddle work," he remarked in his negligent tones; "besides, I want to make trial of this new-fashioned carriage. I won it from my lord of Gratton three days since; and he boasts that it has been copied from one in the possession of the King of France, who is said to be a monarch of a very excellent taste. At least it will carry us to St. Albans, and bring us safely back three days hence;" and turning to the valet who was holding his snuff box and cane, he added:

"If any call and ask for me, tell them I have driven into the country, but look to be home in three days' time.

"Now, Tom, get up, and we will see if we can reach St. Albans ere the dusk fall upon us."

Lord Claud was dressed in one of his finest suits; all white and silver, with here and there a dash of azure blue. His hat was set jauntily upon his golden curls, innocent today of any touch of powder. His blue eyes were dreamy and soft in expression. He looked like one who goes forth a-wooing, in all the gay frippery supposed to be pleasing in a maiden's eyes. He had even discarded his sword, and only wore a short jewelled rapier, such as he sometimes put on rather for ornament than use.

He saluted passers by with an air of negligent grace, replying with a smile to those friends who paused and bandied jests with him, asking him where the fair lady was with whom he was going to visit.

Tom was also dressed in his best, and looked a fitting comrade for the young exquisite now leisurely mounting to the seat beside him. There was no place for a servant upon the carriage, and Tom had learned by this time that Lord Claud was no more really dependent than he was himself upon the attentions of a valet. He was rather in a fog as to what all this was about, whither they were bound, and what they were to accomplish; but he was willing to be led by the strong will of his companion, and to follow him wherever he went.

Tom's irritation and perplexity had not decreased during the past days. He was at his wits' end for money; and it seemed to him that if he could not obtain the payment due, he must either trust to his luck at gambling for funds, or else go home and settle down at Gablehurst once again.

For the latter course he was not yet ready. His soul revolted from the thought of the life of the country squire. He had tasted of the cup of excitement and pleasure, and was not in the least prepared to relinquish it. He would rather face almost any alternative than go back to the life of the Essex village, and sink down into the old routine.

So he had been gaming somewhat recklessly these past days, and with varying success. There had been moments when he was plunged into despair; and then again the luck would shift, and he would feel that fortune was almost at his feet.

Yet at the end of the time matters were with him very much as they had been at the beginning; save that Tom himself had grown more reckless an defiant, most lustful of gold, and less scrupulous how he obtained it, as is always the way with the true gambler, whether he is aware of it at the outset or not.

Now they were rolling along together through the gay streets of London, the hot summer sunshine making everything bright and joyous, filling Tom with a great longing after the good things of this life, and a sense of bitter indignation at being defrauded of his due.

Lord Claud handled the reins and drove his pair of fine horses with a skill which awoke the youth's admiration, and which attracted the notice also of the passers by. Lord Claud appeared rather to court observation than to shun it, and often paused to exchange a word with friends upon the footpath; always telling the same story of being on his way to St. Albans; always smiling and evading a reply when asked to what particular house he was bound.

Nobody who saw the light and remarkable-looking carriage speeding on its way would be likely to forget it, and Tom could not help rather wondering at the public fashion in which they took their journey forth.

He had one encounter which he thought little of at the time, and certainly made no effort to evade. Lord Claud had pulled up the carriage to exchange a few words with a knot of dandies who had hailed him from the footway, and Tom was sitting and looking about him at the passing throng. Presently he was aware of the fixed stare of several pairs of eyes at an adjacent tavern window; and looking fixedly through the rather dull glass, he made out for certain that his friends, the four swaggering bullies, were the owners of these eyes. A minute or two later Bully Bullen stepped forth from the door, and accosted him with swaggering insolence of demeanour.

"So, Master Tom, you make fine friends! And whither away so fast in that fine carriage? Egad, there be truth in the old adage, 'Set a beggar on horseback, and he will ride to the devil.' Fine company, fine company for a country bumpkin to keep! But you'll find it finer than you think for one of these days! Ho! ho! ho!"

Lord Claud did not appear to hear or heed this newcomer's talk; but he showed that he had taken all in by just quietly shifting the long whip into Tom's hands, whilst himself drawing tighter the reins.

Tom understood him in a moment. He took the whip, and the next moment it had whistled through the air, and caught the bully a stinging lash right across the face. At the sound of the crack of the lash the horses started forward, and in a moment the carriage was spinning away over the dusty road, followed by roars of laughter from Lord Claud's friends, and by roars of a different character from the indignant and outraged bully.

"You will have to shoot those fellows one of these days," remarked Lord Claud coolly. "They are becoming a nuisance. Men who are a nuisance ought to be put out of the way. London would be well rid of them."

"They have been mine enemies from the very outset," said Tom, "from the day when first we met, and you came to my rescue when they were baiting me. They have owed me a grudge ever since; but hitherto I have had the best of our encounters."

"Drunken sots have no chance against sober fellows with thews and sinews like yours, good Tom; yet they can give trouble in other ways, and are better under ground than above it. I marvel they have all escaped so long; for they are well known for a set of ruffianly vagabonds, and well deserve the hangman's noose."

The carriage spun fast over the ground, and the westering sun threw long shadows over their path as they rolled farther and farther through the country lanes, leaving the racket of the streets far behind. The country was familiar to Tom, who had ridden over the same ground early in the year; but how different it all looked in the vivid green of early summer, instead of draped in a mantle of frost and snow!

He felt a little elation of spirit as they drove through the old town, the observed of all observers. Some friends of his own hailed him with eager nods of recognition, looking with a great admiration and respect at himself and his companion. Tom felt his heart swell with pride, knowing that in time it would reach Gablethorpe how he had been seen sitting in such state. He returned the salutations of old friends with easy good nature, but felt as though he belonged now to a quite different world; and his heart swelled with that sort of pride which is apt to be the forerunner of a disastrous fall.

They did not stop at St. Albans itself, but at a hostelry a little to the north of it, standing by itself in a pleasant leafy lane. Lord Claud appeared known to mine host, who made them welcome to the best his house had at disposal; and promised all care for the horses, which, as Lord Claud explained, had to make the return journey upon the third day.

It was now somewhat late, so the travellers took their supper, and then went to bed; Tom still in a state of subdued excitement and expectation, scenting coming adventure, but as yet only very imperfectly acquainted with the nature of it. He had suspicions of his own, which caused him alternations of dread and excitement; but he knew he should be told all in Lord Claud's time, and in the meanwhile silence was the best policy.

The following day they spent in amusement in the town of St. Albans. Never were two men more active in the pursuit of pleasure than they. Lord Claud presented himself at the door of many a fine house, never failing to obtain an eager welcome both for himself and his friend. They spent the whole day in a round of amusement, making themselves mightily popular with their companions. They remained until hard upon ten o'clock in one house, and from thence returned straight to their inn, which was already shut up and dark, although the door had been left open for their return.

Up to their room they went, and there Lord Claud's manner suddenly changed. He seemed to throw off his careless gaiety as if it had been a garment, and at once the lines of his face began to change and harden. His eyes gleamed with a steady fire, and his voice lost all its soft indolence of tone.

He went to a cupboard, which he unlocked, and there Tom saw two bundles which appeared to contain clothes, and two saddles and bridles, which he knew had come from Lord Claud's stables.

He looked from them to Lord Claud in questioning wonder.

"How got they there?"

"We brought them with us--secreted in the carriage. Now, Tom, we must no longer delay. We have stern and quick work to do this night; and then back to London with the reward that is ours by right, though they force us to take it by violence. The people here will swear that we slept this night within doors. You saw the landlord look out of his window as we entered to make sure who we were. He will be in bed now, sleeping the sleep of the just. You may be sure he will wake no more till five of the clock; and long ere that we shall be back--our work accomplished.

"Off with those fine trappings, and put on these clothes. Then to saddle the nags, and so steal forth. I know all the tricks of the locks; we shall have nought to stay us."

Whilst he was speaking Lord Claud was unrolling one of the bundles, and quickly transforming himself into such a creature as Tom had never seen before, though he had heard such described many times. His fine clothes were exchanged for a strong shabby riding suit of common cut and texture, that presented no distinct features, and would be most difficult either to describe or identify. He had a great pair of horse pistols stuck in his belt, and also wore a dangerous-looking weapon--something between a sword and a cutlass. His golden hair was tucked away beneath the collar of his coat, and his head was covered by a frowzy dark wig, that looked like untrimmed natural hair. He quickly blackened his face with soot from the chimney, and put on a black crape mask.

A more villainous-looking creature, and one more utterly unlike Lord Claud, the exquisite, it would be hard to imagine. It appeared to Tom as though even his figure had shrunk and become smaller. If he had not seen the metamorphosis with his own eyes, he would not have believed that it was his comrade who now stood before him.

But the voice was the same, as Lord Claud quickly assisted him to change his garments, to assume wig and mask, and soot his forehead over.

Tom had not been unprepared for this denouement, and yet when he saw himself in the habiliments of a highway robber, his heart throbbed with a painful sense of wonderment at how it had all come about. Yet the fascination exercised over him by his companion, and his own love of adventure and excitement, were so strong, that he did not know whether he dreaded or desired the coming struggle.

"What are we going to do?" he asked in a low voice.

"To take our