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Rogues’ Haven
Rogues’ Haven
BY ROY BRIDGES Author of “ The Bubble Moon ,” “ The Vats of Tyre ,” etc. HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED LONDON To my friend M. A. MINOGUE . Printed in Great Britain by C. Tinling & Co ., Ltd ., 53, Victoria Street, Liverpool, and at London and Prescot. CHAPTER PAGE I. Mr. Bradbury 9 II. At the Hall 15 III. Mrs. Mary Howe 29 IV. A Journey Planned 39 V. The Journey Begun 45 VI. Through the Darkness 53 VII. The Riders 59 VIII. The Green-Cur
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Chapter I. Mr. Bradbury
Chapter I. Mr. Bradbury
But for the coach and pair carrying Mr. Bradbury to Chelton, Tony Vining and I would not have been haled before the Squire, but would have got off scot-free as any time before. Tony and I had made the round of our snares. Tony had poked a young rabbit into his jacket-pocket; I was carrying a hare in my bag, and we were sneaking homewards through the dusk, when Tim Kerrick, ash-plant in hand, and brace of keepers at heel, stepped out of the coppice. “What be you lads doin’ here?” Tim demanded,
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Chapter II. At the Hall
Chapter II. At the Hall
It was dark long before Tony and I were marched up the drive to the Hall. The great house stood out a grey mass against the starry sky; the windows fronting us were golden with light; and light flowed from the open door and down the steps. I heard loud laughter; the Squire had company, as he might any night of the week. He favoured fox-hunting gentlemen of a like pattern to himself, seasoned to drink under the table any gentleman of fashion and Tory out of session who should quit the Town for
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Chapter III. Mrs. Mary Howe
Chapter III. Mrs. Mary Howe
My mother was looking out from the gate into the moonlit street when I reached home. I saw her white cap poking from among the evergreens, as I rounded the corner. She was white and shaking when she hurried to meet me. “My dear, where have you been?” she cried. “I’ve been waiting for you these three hours or more. I’ve been so much afraid.” “I’m sorry, mother,” I answered, as I kissed her. “I’ve been with Tony. Nothing’s amiss. I went with him up to the Hall, and saw the Squire, that’s all
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Chapter IV. A Journey Planned
Chapter IV. A Journey Planned
When Mr. Bradbury returned to the cottage on the following evening, my mother would not allow me to remain in the room to hear what passed. She would have had me go to bed immediately on Mr. Bradbury’s knocking at the door; recollecting then, that from my room I must inevitably hear all that passed, she bade me wait in the garden, until her conversation with him was ended. She had refused in the interval between his visits to answer any of my eager questions; she offered me no information. To
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Chapter V. The Journey Begun
Chapter V. The Journey Begun
By break of day a week thence I waited by the highway for the coach and pair which should carry me with Mr. Bradbury up to London. My mind was yet confused for the swiftness of events. My mother, after her first outburst on the evening of Mr. Bradbury’s second visit, had become secretive; she whose life had seemed to me so open and simple, had grown inscrutable; she would satisfy me fully on none of the matters of most concern to me. This much I gathered—that I was John Craike, son of Richard
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Chapter VI. Through the Darkness
Chapter VI. Through the Darkness
Three weeks thence I accompanied Mr. Bradbury on the journey down from London to my grandfather’s house. Mr. Bradbury had sent off a letter to Mr. Craike announcing that he purposed to visit him, and to present his grandson to him. He had received only a few lines of a letter in reply, penned, he believed, not by the old man but by his son Charles,—to the effect that Mr. Bradbury’s information astounded Mr. Edward Craike, but that he consented to receive Mr. Bradbury and the young gentleman wh
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Chapter VII. The Riders
Chapter VII. The Riders
I remember that once an itinerant showman, passing through Chelton, essayed Mazeppa ; none the less, the sorry performance took my fancy. Now, when I became conscious, I had a sense that I was borne forward so through the night bound upon a horse; my next sensation, after the throbbing of my head, was the friction of the saddle beneath me. I realised at last that I was, indeed, held upon the horse; not cords, but the strong arm of the rider held me before him in saddle; he was riding with me a
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Chapter VIII. The Green-Curtained Room
Chapter VIII. The Green-Curtained Room
When my sight cleared, I found myself in a long, low grey room—grey from the smoke and the stone walls. It was lit by a curious hanging lamp of iron, black with soot and oil; a fire of peat smouldered on the deep hearth; for furniture the room had in it a long table black with age, and grease, and oil dribbling from the lamp; heavy black chairs were set on either side of the hearth and at the table, and a black press standing against the wall, its brass fittings green and corroded. The brass c
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Chapter IX. Mr. Charles Craike
Chapter IX. Mr. Charles Craike
Directing me with a gesture to rise and follow, Martin opened the door into the hall. The woman, taking the lantern, lit it from the fire with a twig. A moment I hesitated, preferring to remain with big Roger Galt, who was inclined to make my cause his own, to following the sinister Martin and old Mother Mag, but Roger had lurched to a chair, and sat there glowering and muttering to himself without further regard for me. Moreover, Martin, observing my hesitation, plucked a pistol from his poc
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Chapter X. Scruples of Roger Galt
Chapter X. Scruples of Roger Galt
As the gentleman entered the house, I slipped back to the bed, purposing, when I was assured that he would not come directly to my room, to test whether I could hear through the break in the ceiling of the room below and the parting of the flooring under my feet what should pass among my enemies. I heard him enter the room; I heard Mother Mag’s return to the house and the clashing of the doors, as she made all fast. I dropped down then, and lying prone, found that by pressing my ears against t
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Chapter XI. Events at the Stone House
Chapter XI. Events at the Stone House
To be sure, I passed the most dismal of nights locked in the upper room of the Stone House. Whether Martin had had the courage to bear my message to Charles Craike I could not tell; I heard the mumble of their voices in the room below, but I did not set my ear again to the breach in the flooring-boards. I heard the doors creak and crash presently, and, slipping to the window, I saw the gentleman mount and ride away. I lay down then on the bed, spreading my greatcoat over the miserable rags; a
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Chapter XII. Captain Ezra Blunt
Chapter XII. Captain Ezra Blunt
Now, the four days I passed at the Stone House I was like to die for weariness and suspense. The routine was unbroken. I ate my breakfast in the kitchen with the woman and the two men watching me; for an hour thence I was free to exercise myself in the courtyard; all the days the grey fog hung dank in the hollow, and the cobbles were wet and slippery. The silent Bart was always within reach of me; Martin watched me from the door, and the hound raved by the steps. Thence I was locked in my ro
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Chapter XIII. Out of the Stone House
Chapter XIII. Out of the Stone House
As the night wore on, the clamour dulled; the roisterers were surely drunken or wearied; few seemed astir. I heard the mumble of voices still from the room below me; occasionally the shred of a chanty from the kitchen; at times, the clatter of shoes over the cobbles of the yard, and the outcry of the hound. But ever the wind blew through the night, seeming to cry to me concerning great waters storm-tossed, whereon I should be sailing after this night to the port of no return. Night drew towar
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Chapter XIV. Modesty of Mr. Galt
Chapter XIV. Modesty of Mr. Galt
Roger Galt was laughing triumphantly. He roared in my ear, “So you’ll not go sailing overseas yet awhile, John Craike, to pleasure Uncle Charles. Blunt’ll never earn his guineas for your kidnapping.” “Thanks to you! Will they come after us, do you think?” “There’s not a man among ’em has a horse can match mine. Save Martin! And he’ll not dare. I vow by now Martin’s gallopin’ like the devil to Craike House with the bad news for Charles.” “Yes, and you’re like to suffer for it at Craike’s ha
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Chapter XV. The Doomed House
Chapter XV. The Doomed House
That afternoon I drove with Mr. Bradbury to my grandfather’s house, and the two thief-catchers rode beside us. The house stood at a distance of five miles from the little village that looked down upon the sea; from the inn window I had caught sight of Blunt’s brig already putting out. It was an ancient dwelling of the Craike family, that my grandfather, enriched by trade in the East, Mr. Bradbury now assured me, had set in repair for his habitation. For all the outrage of my imprisonment, Mr.
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Chapter XVI. Old Mr. Edward Craike
Chapter XVI. Old Mr. Edward Craike
It may have been only the leaping flame upon the hearth, but it seemed to me that colour rose to the old brown face, and that light burned in the coal-black eyes. An instant only, and his aspect was hard and grim. He did not offer his hand to Mr. Bradbury or me; he seemed still to prop himself upon the arms of his chair; he said, in tones curiously rich and full for so old a man, “You wrote to me, Bradbury, and Charles answered you at my dictation that I would receive you.” “Well, we are here,
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Chapter XVII. Creed of Mr. Charles
Chapter XVII. Creed of Mr. Charles
He stepped forward—a handsome, smiling gentleman of middle age, his face ivory-white, his white hair held by a black ribbon, his dress as precise as Mr. Bradbury’s, but set off by his shapely body. He wore no jewel; he had no touch of colour on him, save the red line of his lips and the cold blue of his eyes. He bowed with a courtly grace to Mr. Bradbury; he vouchsafed me the merest lift of his brows. Mr. Bradbury met him with an equal composure. “It’s as well that you came here, Mr. Charles,
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Chapter XVIII. Compact of Tolerance
Chapter XVIII. Compact of Tolerance
An hour thence I sat in the room which was to be mine while I remained in Craike House, and to which the shadowy Thrale had conducted me. It was a great bed-chamber, its windows overlooking dark woods and hills, and afar through the dropping dusk the leaden greyness of the sea. On entering, I had hastened to throw wide the casement, regardless of the coldness of the wind, but seeking by its freshness to dispel the thick, dead mustiness of the room. A gloomy chamber—the fire smoking on the hea
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Chapter XIX. Company at Dinner
Chapter XIX. Company at Dinner
The dining-room was gloomy as a vault. The candles, burning in branching silver sticks on the white cloth, might have been tapers burning for the dead. A tapestry of flickering lights and shadows seemed to drape the room; ever and anon the leaping firelight or the waving candle-flame would be reflected from some piece of plate, or crystal, or gilded frame. I saw the colour show like blood from one great canvas. In the dimness, the servants moving to and fro in final preparation for the meal,
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Chapter XX. Soul of a Man
Chapter XX. Soul of a Man
Mr. Bradbury took his leave shortly after dinner, driving off in his coach, attended by the Bow Street runners. He was allowed no further opportunity of speech with me, my uncle engaging him in conversation; my grandfather sitting grim and silent by the fire. From time to time, I found his eyes studying me, as I sat glumly apart; his face was expressionless of his sentiment to me. My cousin Oliver had been aided from the room by Thrale on my uncle’s direction. On Mr. Bradbury’s departure, th
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Chapter XXI. My Cousin Oliver
Chapter XXI. My Cousin Oliver
I slept towards morning, and did not wake until the sun was rising; the light came golden-green through the stained windows. I rose from my bed, and, opening the casement, looked out over sunlit woods; afar, through the break in the trees, I could make out the glittering waters of the sea. In the decaying garden I saw the colours of many flowers among weeds; a hawthorn by an overgrown walk was a silver fount of blossom. The gloom of the garden and the wood had passed with the darkness and the
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Chapter XXII. The Web of Ivy
Chapter XXII. The Web of Ivy
My grandfather summoned me to his presence before noon. I breakfasted with Oliver; my uncle did not honour us; it was his habit, his son informed me, to lie abed late. The girl Evelyn Milne came down, slim and pale in her black gown; she gave us the chillest of “good mornings,” and sat silent and obscure through the meal. Thrale waited on us; recalling all Oliver had said to me on the beach, I eyed the old man in the light of day—observing the brownness of his shrivelled skin, the bony hands
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Chapter XXIII. Dying Fires
Chapter XXIII. Dying Fires
My grandfather, pulling the bell-rope, summoned Thrale, and ordered curtly, “Send Barwise and her man to me!” As Thrale vanished, the old man said to me, “I’ve orders for ’em, John—orders. She’s housekeeper; he’s butler, and their son Nick’s groom. Rogues all!” He chuckled, and sought his snuff-box; so he made play with it that I observed it cut from ebony, with a silver skull and bones patterned upon it. He ceased his senile chuckling at the rapping on the door; I saw him grip the arms of h
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Chapter XXIV. The Wood
Chapter XXIV. The Wood
Now I was not fated long to test the efficacy of my grandfather’s control over his son and his servants. I’d have you know that twelve folk served my grandfather at Craike House, and that excepting Nick Barwise, the groom, these rogues were of the crew who served under Mr. Craike when he sailed his own ship, and that in his fantastic spirit he would have them by him after his return to England to assume his position as Craike of Craike House. The gates were kept by Isaac, second son of the Bar
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Chapter XXV. Insistence of Captain Blunt
Chapter XXV. Insistence of Captain Blunt
Now attempting to follow Miss Milne, and have further conversation with her, I found myself presently in a wild tangle of the wood, so that I had much difficulty in forcing my way through it. Not finding her, bramble-scratched and moss-stained at last I reached the wall, and followed it down, thinking to find the breach by which I had left the garden. But as I approached it, I halted suddenly, hearing voices from the garden; and, knowing them for the voices of Blunt and Martin Baynes and my un
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Chapter XXVI. Sir Gavin Masters
Chapter XXVI. Sir Gavin Masters
Now for a space I lay hid under the wall, having no mind to enter the garden and meet my uncle, but seeking time to review the perils threatening me, and the steps by which I should avoid them. I believed that Blunt, ere he made his offer to my uncle, had already planned with the old rogues my removal from the house, and that of this the girl Evelyn Milne would have warned me. I thought first of going immediately to my grandfather and of laying the plot before him; having with me always the th
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Chapter XXVII. Suspicions of Mr. Charles Craike
Chapter XXVII. Suspicions of Mr. Charles Craike
It was afternoon when I climbed back through the breach in the wall and dropped into the garden. I had noted, as I went through the garden that morning, an arbour overgrown with honeysuckle; in the sunshine now it was a pavilion of gold and green. I was hurrying by this arbour when I was startled to hear my uncle’s voice. “Nephew!” he called; and, turning, I saw him in the arbour, lounging indolently on an old garden seat of marble, yellow with age and stains; his arms outstretched along its b
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Chapter XXVIII. Spilt Wine
Chapter XXVIII. Spilt Wine
I passed the remainder of the day in my room with a book. Now I have since found agreeable entertainment in the works of Mr. Fielding; but though I had before me The History of Amelia , I heeded little of aught I read. I had good cause for reflection. That I was yet in the old house; that all about me were my enemies; though I had Sir Gavin’s assurance no hurt should befall me, I yet dreaded that steps would be taken to spirit me away, and Blunt, having laid hands on me, would elude pursuit.
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Chapter XXIX. Intervention of Mr. Bradbury
Chapter XXIX. Intervention of Mr. Bradbury
At the immediate confusion and rush of figures I started up to assist my uncle; Thrale and his fellow-servants were before me. My uncle cried out, “Stand back, nephew! Stand back all of you; let him have air!”—and the crowding of the old men about the chair withheld me from my grandfather. So the event held me that I was insensible to other sound than the gasping of the old man; I caught a glimpse of his face, livid and sweating, as his head rested against my uncle’s breast; his eyes were ago
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Chapter XXX. Not Yet
Chapter XXX. Not Yet
But ere I might question Roger Galt, I saw my uncle come swiftly out of the darkness of the corridor; remarking me holding a candle high he gave me not a word and only a malignant glance, and without knocking he would have thrust open the door. But Mr. Bradbury had turned the key; and the gentleman turning to me, his face revealing his rage, though his voice was smooth, he said, “So, nephew, though you’re heir of Craike, you permit Bradbury to lock you out in the cold! What’s the gentleman’s b
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Chapter XXXI. The Night Watch
Chapter XXXI. The Night Watch
Now the event proved the truth of my assumption that Mr. Bradbury had about him that which he was eager to convey immediately from the house to safety, lest Charles, or Blunt, or any other rogues should lay their hands upon it. He feared to leave me in the house, but believing that my grandfather had a secret purpose in his insistence, he consented, thinking to return speedily with assistance. My grandfather cried out to my uncle, as he took my candle to light Mr. Bradbury from the room, “You’l
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Chapter XXXII. Will of a Man
Chapter XXXII. Will of a Man
My grandfather asking, “What hour is it?” stretched out his hand to a press beside him and drew forth a pistol, and set this by him on the arm of his chair. “Midnight!” I answered, glancing at the clock. “Bradbury should have returned,” he said. “Go to the door, lad, and ask who knocks.” I hurried to the door, and to my question “Who’s there?” my Uncle Charles replied, “I, to be sure, nephew. Pray open the door!” “Let him come in,” my grandfather said. “I bade him keep away. Yet let him in.”
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Chapter XXXIII. Carrion Crows
Chapter XXXIII. Carrion Crows
My uncle, rushing forward, dropped on his knees beside him, and lifted up his head. I took the glass from the press, and poured a little of the spirit into it, and handed this to my uncle, who moistened my grandfather’s lips with it, and sought to dribble a few drops down his throat. And nearer, nearer yet, crept the rogues; recoiling from the living, they feared him still, lest even now he should arise, and his voice send them scurrying as so little a while before. But he lay still,—his eyes
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Chapter XXXIV. Flight of Crows
Chapter XXXIV. Flight of Crows
Mrs. Barwise headed them still—Lord, what a strength must have been hers in youth; even now her withered hands tore at the wreckage of the door. Her sons and she had cleared a way presently; the bar was drawn, and all the rogues were in the room once more. But, setting my back against the chimney-piece, with Oliver beside me, I levelled my pistol as they came on, menacing, and I cried out, “Keep back! You’ll not lay hands on me. Back, I say!” At this Mrs. Barwise checked her onrush; and whir
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Chapter XXXV. Departure of Mr. Charles Craike
Chapter XXXV. Departure of Mr. Charles Craike
We went out presently to descend the stairs in search of Sir Gavin Masters and his men. My uncle strode out ahead of us, Oliver slipped away; I held Mr. Bradbury’s arm as he would have hurried off, to direct search for Mother Mag, and to insure that if Mistress Barwise and the rogues left the house, they did not bear their plunder of plate away with them. I whispered to him, “There’s in the room—in the wall there—a box—stuffed with gems. My grandfather revealed them to me, ere he died. My un
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Chapter XXXVI. Dawn
Chapter XXXVI. Dawn
A half-hour thence we were in saddle—Sir Gavin, Mr. Bradbury, and I—and riding with the two runners, and four of Sir Gavin’s servants, as swiftly as we might through the dark for the Stone House. Roger Galt had not waited for us; but, taking horse, had ridden off immediately in pursuit of my uncle escaping with the jewels. We conjectured that Mr. Charles would not proceed now to the Stone House, but would ride for London, hoping to out-distance us, and lie hid there, till he might find a ship
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Chapter XXXVII. My Uncle Comes to his Own
Chapter XXXVII. My Uncle Comes to his Own
In the half dark of the house, as we leaped forward—Sir Gavin and I, the runners and his fellows coming scurrying after—I saw Martin Baynes and Bart spring back before us, and gain the stairway. Martin faced us there—his pistol quivering in his hand, and Bart at his back with cutlass lifted. Sir Gavin cried out, “In the King’s name! Down with your arms! Or, by God, you’ll hang for it.” Martin spat out a curse in answer and drew trigger; at the blaze and roar of the pistol, Sir Gavin hopped s
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Chapter XXXVIII. Last Will and Testament
Chapter XXXVIII. Last Will and Testament
My uncle’s lips had smiled before he died, lying upon the black flag, by the death’s head, among the scattered gems. It was a bitter piece of irony—well might his lips have smiled for it—that he laid hands upon the treasure only the morning of his death. For the lust of the treasure all his gifts of mind and body had been spent in vain; surely this treasure—this ill-gotten treasure—had corrupted his whole life, worked as a disorder in his blood; turned his mind to infamy and black plots agains
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