The Laughing Cavalier by Baroness Orczy (best 7 inch ereader .TXT) 📕

Jan is not here. He is with my lord, helping with those heavy boxes.

“Five minutes, you old mushroom-face,” suggests he who has been left in charge.

And all the others nod approval.

But they will take no risks about the prisoner. Pleasure and five minutes’ conversation with his friends, yes! but no attempt at escape. So the men make a wide circle sitting out of earshot, but shoulder to shoulder the thirty of them who happen to be awake. In the centre of the circle is the Laughing Cavalier tied to a beam, trussed like a fowl since he is to hang on the morrow.

Close beside his feet is the lantern so that he may have a last look at his friends, and some few paces away his naked sword which Jan took from him when the men brought him down.

He has listened to the whispered conversation⁠—he knows that his brother philosophers are here. May the God of rogues and villains bless them for their loyalty.

“And now St. Bavon show me the best way to make use of them!”

There is still something to be done, which hath been left undone, a word hath been given and that pledge must be fulfilled, and the promised fortune still awaits him who will bring the jongejuffrouw safely to her father!

“My God, if it were not for that broken shoulder and that torn hip!⁠ ⁠… there are many hours yet before the morrow.”

“Old compeer!” came in a hoarse whisper close to his ear, “how did you come to such a pass?”

“They came and took the jongejuffrouw away from Rotterdam,” he replied also speaking in a whisper. “I had just returned from Delft, where I had business to transact and I recognized Jan beside the sledge into which the jongejuffrouw was stepping even then. He had ten or a dozen men with him. I felt that they meant mischief⁠—but I had to follow⁠ ⁠… I had to find out whither they were taking her.⁠ ⁠…”

“Verdommt!” growled Socrates under his breath. “Why did you not take us along?”

“I meant to come back for you, as soon as I knew⁠ ⁠… but in the dark⁠ ⁠… and from behind, seven of these fellows fell upon me⁠ ⁠… they used their skates like javelins⁠ ⁠… mine were still on my feet⁠ ⁠… I had only Bucephalus.⁠ ⁠… A blow from one of the heaviest blades cracked my shoulder, another caught me on the hip. There were seven of them,” he reiterated with a careless laugh, “it was only a question of time, they were bound to bring me down in the end.”

“But who has done this?” queried Pythagoras with an oath.

“A lucky rogue on whom God hath chosen to smile. But,” he added more seriously and sinking his voice to the lowest possible whisper, “never mind about the past. Let us think of the future, old compeers.”

“We are ready,” they replied simultaneously.

“A knife?” he murmured, “can you cut these confounded ropes?”

“They took everything from us,” growled Socrates, “ere they let us approach you.”

“Try with your hands to loosen the knots.”

“What ho! you brigands, what are you doing there?”

In a moment the circle around broke up. A crowd of angry faces were gathered closely round the philosophers, and more than one pair of rough hands were laid upon their shoulders.

“Play fair, you two!” cried Piet the Red, who was in command, “or we’ll tie you both to the nearest beams and await my lord’s commands.”

“Easy, easy, friend,” quoth Diogenes with a pleasant laugh, “my nose was itching and my compeer held on to my arm while he tried to reach my nose in order to scratch it.”

“Then if it itch again,” retorted the man with an equally jovial laugh, “call for my services, friend. And now, you two scarecrows! the five minutes are over. Jan will be here in a moment.”

But they formed up the circle once more, kind and compassionate. Jan was not yet here, and the rogues had had a warning: they were not like to be at their tricks again.

“Never mind about me,” whispered Diogenes hurriedly as Pythagoras and Socrates, baffled and furious, were giving forth samples of their choicest vocabularies. “You see that Chance alone can favour me an she choose, if not⁠ ⁠… ’tis no matter. What you can do for me is far more important than cheating the gallows of my carcase.”

“What is it?” they asked simply.

“The jongejuffrouw,” he said, “you know where she is?”

“In the hut⁠—close by,” replied Socrates, “we saw the sledge draw up there.⁠ ⁠…”

“But the house is well guarded,” murmured Pythagoras.

“Nor would I ask you to run your heads in the same noose wherein mine will swing tomorrow. But keep the hut well in sight. At any hour⁠—any moment now there may be a call of sauve qui peut. Every man for himself and the greatest luck to the swiftest runner.”

“But why?”

“Never mind why. It is sure to happen. Any minute you may hear the cry⁠ ⁠… confusion, terror⁠ ⁠… a scramble and a rush for the open.”

“And our opportunity,” came in a hoarse whisper from Socrates. “I think that I begin to understand.”

“We lie low for the present and when sauve qui peut is called we come straight back here and free you⁠ ⁠… in the confusion they will have forgotten you.”

“If the confusion occurs in time,” quoth Diogenes with his habitual carelessness, “you may still find me here trussed like a fowl to this verdommte beam. But I have an idea that the Lord of Stoutenburg will presently be consumed with impatience to see me hang⁠ ⁠… he has just finished some important work by the bridge on the Schie⁠ ⁠… he won’t be able to sleep and the devil will be suggesting some mischief for his idle hands to do. There will be many hours to kill before daylight, one of them might be well employed in hanging me.”

“Then we’ll not leave you an instant,” asserted Pythagoras firmly.

“What can you do, you two old scarecrows, against the Lord of Stoutenburg who has thirty