The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot by - (read novels website txt) 📖

holdest thy peace I give thee up on the morrow to the myrmidons of the law, and the golden secret will perish with thee, none profiting thereby. Tell it but to me, and by that honour which I have ever held sacred, thou shalt be released and placed in a secure hiding place till all hue and cry be past. Speak, then, for thy silence can aid none--least of all thyself. Tell the whole story and guide us to the treasure, and all will be well."

Cuthbert sat silent and motionless, turning the matter rapidly over in his mind. What should he do? Would it be a lasting disgrace to yield to thoughts of personal peril, and reveal all he knew? That revelation would not place the treasure in Tyrrel's hands. He might fear to assail the Cross Way House; and now that house might be so well guarded that it could defy attack.

Should he risk it? Should he tell all? For a moment he was half disposed to do so; but another thought followed, and the words were checked ere they had reached his lips.

What if further business had taken away Sir Richard and his son from the lonely house? What if, in the tumult and alarm that the news of such a plot would spread through the kingdom, the household within those walls should be left unprotected by these kinsmen, who might have occasion to make their way to their own home to see how it fared with those left there?

He knew the fearless character of Lady Humbert. She would never keep Sir Richard from his wife at a time of anxiety and possible peril. They might already have left the Cross Way House for Trevlyn Chase (for Lady Humbert knew that the secret of the treasure lay with none but themselves, and would have no fears for that). And if in the dead of night the whole force of the gipsy folk and the highwaymen--or even these latter alone, if they could not get the gipsies to join with them--were to sweep down and attack that solitary house, what chance would its inmates have against them? None, absolutely none! The golden hoard would speedily be made away with; the treasure would be lost to Trevlyn for ever, and all the golden hopes and dreams that had been centred upon it would be dispersed to the winds.

Should he have it always on his mind that he had sold the secret from craven fear? Should he ever know peace of mind or self respect again?

Never! he would die first. And surely since he had no dealings in this plot, and was innocent of all thought of treason, no hurt could come to him even were he given up. Surely he could prove his innocence, though with his head so confused as it now was he scarce knew how he should be able to parry and answer the questions addressed to him. Perchance some knowledge of his peril would reach the ears of Lord Culverhouse, and he would come to his aid. At least he would not be coerced and threatened into betraying his secret. Tyrrel might do his worst; he would defy him.

He looked straight at the robber chief, who sat awaiting his reply with a cold smile of triumph on his face, and answered briefly:

"I shall tell you nothing."

A gleam of anger shone in the man's eyes.

"Have a care how thou answerest me. Remember that thy secret will perish with thee when thou goest to the traitor's death."

"It will not," answered Cuthbert coolly. "There be others of my kindred that know it. The treasure will be saved for Trevlyn, do what thou wilt with me."

"I shall do as I have said," answered Tyrrel, speaking very clearly and distinctly. "My plans are all well laid. If within two hours thou hast not altered thy mind, thou wilt be rowed ashore by my men, bound hand and foot. Thou wilt then be given in custody to some good friends of ours on shore, who lie not under suspicion as we do. By them thou wilt be guarded till morning breaks, and then all London will be ringing with the news of this foul plot, and men will be ready to tear limb from limb all those who are so much as suspected to have had dealings with the false traitors who have planned all. Then wilt thou, Cuthbert Trevlyn, whose name has already been whispered abroad as one having cognizance of this matter, be handed over to the tender mercies of the law. It will be told of thee how thou wast caught in the very garden of the house where these vile conspirators resort, and that thou didst fight like a fury to save thyself from capture. Thy dealings with Father Urban will be remembered against thee, and many another thing beside. A traitor's death will be thine end; and thou wilt wish in vain when those dark hours come upon thee thou hadst saved thyself when yet there was time. I give thee two hours to bethink thee of these things. If thou wilt speak plainly, tell us all thou knowest, and help to place the treasure in our hands, we will save thee from the fate that awaits thee on shore. If not, we will give thee over to it; and then no power on earth can save thee."

But Cuthbert's mind had already been made up, and he did not waver. He knew himself innocent of all complicity in the plot, and he clung to the hope that his innocence might be proved. In no case would he purchase his freedom by a loss of self respect, by a cowardly yielding up of that very treasure it had been the dream of his life to restore to the house of Trevlyn. Argument and menace were alike thrown away upon him; and two hours later, bound hand and foot, as Tyrrel had said, he was thrown roughly into the bottom of the wherry, and rowed downstream in dead silence, he knew not whither.

Chapter 26: Jacob's Devotion.

"If thou wouldst save thy friend from a terrible fate, come hither to me without delay."

Jacob stood gazing at this scrap of parchment as one in a dream, his slow wits only taking in by degrees the meaning of the mysterious words.

"Thy friend," he repeated slowly, "thy friend! What friend? I have many. Terrible fate! Saints preserve us, what means that? Can it be Cuthbert who is in peril--that rash Cuthbert, for ever diving into matters he had far, far better let alone, and burning his fingers for naught? Can it be of him it speaks? Belike it may. There have been ugly whispers abroad of late. Mine uncle told me only this day that some constables came to his door asking some trivial questions anent his household, and speaking of Cuthbert by name. It would be like his folly at such a moment to run his head into a noose.

"But he shall not be hurt if I can help it. Who is this wise woman who sends the message? Methinks I have heard Rachel speak of her ere now. Well, I can but go visit her and hear what she would have to say. I know the house in Budge Row; I took Rachel to the door once. For myself, I love not such hocus pocus; but if it be a matter of Cuthbert's safety, I will e'en go and listen to her tale. If she wants to filch money from me for foul purposes, she will find she has come to the wrong man. I will pay for nothing till I have got my money's worth."

It was already dark. Jacob had been partaking of one of Martin Holt's hospitable suppers. Cuthbert had been absent, and Mistress Susan had remarked with some acrimony that the young man was growing a deal too fine in his ways for them. He came and went just at pleasure; and she did not think it well to encourage him in his idleness and irregularities. Martin opined that he had been amusing himself by watching the preparations for the grand doings on the morrow. The King was in London, and would open his Parliament the next day. Little was being talked of but that event all over London that night.

And now, on reaching his home, Jacob found this brief missive awaiting him, and started forth again, wondering not a little whither it would lead him. The streets were almost empty. Budge Row was dark and silent as the grave. Yet as he looked up at the tall narrow house, a window from above was softly opened, and a low voice over his head spoke in soft, urgent accents:

"Hist! make no sound. Wait but a moment. I will open to you."

Jacob waited, and almost immediately the door was cautiously opened, and a head looked round, a pair of dark eyes peering up into his face.

"It is well, Jacob Dyson, thou hast come," said the same voice, in the lowest of low whispers. "But I may not speak with thee here. Thou must come with me elsewhere. Tyrrel's men are in this house, carousing in their cups. But they have ears like the wild things of the forest. I may not bring thee within the door. They think that I be gone to my chamber to sleep. They will seek me no more tonight. And before the morrow dawns our task must be accomplished."

"And what is that task?" asked Jacob breathlessly.

"To free Cuthbert Trevlyn from the bonds that hold him; to save him from the power of those who will, when the morning dawns; deliver him up to the emissaries of the law as one who has taken part in the vilest plot that has ever been conceived by heart of man!"

Jacob started, and faced his companion, who was hurrying him along the dark streets at a rapid pace.

"Plot, woman! what dost thou mean?" he cried, alarmed and distrustful, and yet impelled to let her lead him whither she would, dominated by the power of her strong will. "I must know more of this matter ere I go further. I have heard fell whispers ere now, but I know not what their truth be. I am a peaceable, law-abiding citizen. I mix myself not up in such doubtful matters. Speak plainly, and tell me what thou knowest, and what evil or harm threatens Cuthbert Trevlyn, or I vow I will go no further with thee. I will not be made a tool of; I will not walk in the dark."

He stopped short, and she did the same, still holding his arm in a close clutch. They had reached one of the many city churches; the big building loomed up before them dark and tall. The wise woman drew her companion within the shelter of the deep porch. Here they could speak at will; none could overhear them now.

"I will tell thee all in as few words as may be. Thou knowest me as the wise woman of Budge Row; but once I was the queen of the woodland, the queen of the gipsy tribes there, and I still hold some power over the children of the forest. They still bring me news of all that passes there. Cuthbert Trevlyn has found the lost treasure, and in finding it has killed one of the tribe. Hatred and greed have been alike stirred up. Many are bound together against him. If he cannot be snatched this night from the clutches into which he has let himself fall--oh, why would he not heed my warnings?--nothing can avail to save him.

"Listen, Jacob Dyson. Tyrrel, the notable highwayman, upon whose head a price has long been set, has this night taken Cuthbert Trevlyn prisoner, hoping to win from him the secret of the hidden treasure which now lies in his keeping. Cuthbert has refused to tell him aught; and now he purposes to strive to turn this to good account for himself by delivering him up to the officers of the law upon the morrow, as being concerned in a fearful plot that tomorrow will make the ears of all England tingle.

"Dost thou stare at that? hast thou indeed heard aught of it? There have been whispers abroad; but the matter hath been kept wondrous close. Cuthbert Trevlyn has by his hardihood, his curiosity, and his fidelity to friends, who are no true friends to him, placed himself in jeopardy. He ought to be in hiding now; for if upon the morrow the name of Trevlyn gets noised abroad, there will be scant mercy shown him by the judges of this land."

"Cuthbert a prisoner! Cuthbert delivered up to judgment!" cried Jacob, aghast. "What meanest thou, woman? What hath he done?"

"He bath done no evil; but he hath shown himself imprudent and reckless. He has been seen in company he ought to have fled; he