The Greatest Historical Novels & Stories of D. K. Broster. D. K. Broster

hopeless yet.”

      “God! you don’t know yet what it is I’m taking to heart!” exclaimed Hector with startling bitterness. “Oh, I’m grieved to the soul over the Doctor . . . but unless I can disprove the slander about his capture I am ruined, as I told you, and may as well blow my brains out!”

      Ewen stared at him in astonishment. “My dear Hector, what slander? Ruined! What in Heaven’s name are you talking about?”

      Hector seized his wrist. “You have not heard it then? Nor have they, I suppose, at the ‘White Cock’ or they would have turned me out sans façon. I tell you I was in a sweat of fear when I went in; but thank God that I did go, since by it I found you, and there’s no man in the world I’d sooner have at my back . . . more by token since you know the circumstances.”

      “But those are just what I don’t know!” exclaimed Ardroy, more and more bewildered. “See, Hector, calm yourself a little and tell me what you are talking about. Has it anything to do with Archie?”

      “Everything in the world. They are saying over there in Lille, in the regiment—the Doctor’s own regiment and mine—that ’twas an officer in French service who betrayed him, and some think that the officer is——” He stopped, his mouth twitching, his eyes distracted, and made a sort of gesture of pointing to himself.

      “Good God!” ejaculated Ewen in horror. “You! On what possible——”

      “On what grounds? Because of the fatal letter which I lost that day on Loch Treig side, the letter which, you remember, we agreed at Fort William had probably never reached the authorities or done any harm at all—which in any case was taken from me by treachery and violence. But they hint, so I am told, that it was written in order to convey information, and that I gave it to the spy! O my God, that men should whisper such a thing of me, and that I cannot kill them for it!” Hector smote his hands together, and began to pace about the little room like a wild animal.

      But Ewen stood a moment half-stupefied. Too well he knew, at least from hearsay, of mutual accusations among Jacobites of divergent views. But in Hector’s own regiment, among his fellow-officers . . . Then he recovered himself.

      “Hector,” he said with emphasis, “that story is sheer nonsense! ’Twas a much more recent piece of information than any contained in your letter which led to Archie’s capture.”

      “How do you know?” asked the young man, swinging round with a tragic face. “How do you know that?”

      “Because I——but I’ll tell you the whole story in a moment. First do you tell me——”

      “Ewen,” interrupted his brother-in-law vehemently, “if you’ll only clear me I give you leave, with all my heart, to dirk me afterwards if you like.”

      Ewen could not keep back a smile. “The inducement is not overwhelming. But, Hector,” he added, as a sudden unwelcome idea smote him, and he in his turn gripped the young officer by the arm, “I hope to God that you have not deserted—have not come over without leave?”

      “No, no, Lord Ogilvie gave me leave. He does not believe the rumour, thank God! He thought it best that I should come; I had already called out a lieutenant in my company . . . unfortunately he got wind of it and stopped the meeting. He thought that if I came over I might be able to find out who really was responsible for the Doctor’s capture and thus clear myself. And it goes without saying that if there is any scheme on foot for Doctor Cameron’s release or rescue you may count on me de tout mon cœur.”

      “Alas, I fear that there is none at present,” said Ewen sadly. “Yet, as regards his capture, though I cannot give you the name of the man responsible, I can prove that it was not you. But, Hector, who can have put about this slander? Who started it?”

      Hector shook his head. “I could not find out—how does one discover a thing like that? Nor has anyone dared to tax me with it directly; ’twas more hints, sneers, looks, avoidance of me. And those of your name in the regiment were naturally among the foremost.”

      “You must,” said Ewen, considering, “have been too free with your tongue over your unlucky loss of that letter last autumn.”

      “Too free with my tongue! I never breathed a word about it to a soul over there, not even to Lord Ogilvie. I was far too much ashamed.”

      “And you did not tell anyone when you were in Scotland?”

      “Save you, no one.”

      “ ’Tis very strange. Well, tell me what chanced after our sudden parting that dark morning at Ardgour, and how you succeeded in getting over to France.”

      Hector told him.

      “Dhé!” exclaimed his brother-in-law at the end, “so ’twas young Glenshian who helped you to papers! How the devil did he contrive to do it?”

      “Faith, I don’t know overwell. He gave me a letter to someone whom I never saw, with a feigned name at that. I was grateful enough to the future Chief, though there is something about the man which I find it hard to stomach. You have never met him, I think. Now, Ewen, keep me in suspense no longer!”

      “Stay one moment,” said Ardroy slowly. “You told young Glenshian—you could not help yourself—of the loss of your necessary papers; perhaps you told him of the loss of the letter too?”

      A flush ran over Hector’s face and his jaw fell a trifle. He thumped the table. “You’re right; I did! But he, surely, could not have spread——”

      “No, no, I do not suppose that for an instant! It was only that you said you had told nobody save me.”

      “Nobody over the water nor in Scotland. I vow I had forgotten Finlay MacPhair in London. He was so anxious to know whether I had lost any compromising document. But that he could have put about such a libel is out of the question. I fear, however, that he may have mentioned my misfortune to some third person. . . . But now for your proof, Ewen, which is to clear me! And tell me, too, how soon you got back from Ardgour, and all that has befallen you of late. You look, now that I see you closer . . . have you been ill by any chance?”

      CHAPTER XVII

       FORESEEN AND UNFORESEEN

       Table of Contents

      (1)

      It had been arranged that Hector should come to Ewen’s lodging early next morning, and that they should both go to wait upon Mr. Galbraith. Ewen therefore remained in his room writing a letter to Alison, but when it was already three-quarters of an hour past the time appointed, and still the young man did not arrive, Ardroy began to get uneasy about him. When an hour and a quarter had elapsed he was walking about his room really anxious. What had the boy been doing? Should he go to the Strand in search of him? But then he might so easily miss him on the way. When another twenty minutes had ticked itself away among the sun, moon and stars of Mrs. Wilson’s great clock, he strode into his bedroom for his hat. He could wait no longer; he must go and look for the truant.

      And then he heard his landlady’s voice, explaining to someone that she thought Mr. Cameron must by now have gone out.

      “No, I have not,” said Ewen, appearing on the threshold of his bedroom. “Is that you at last, Hector? What on earth has delayed you so?”

      “I’ll tell you in a moment,” said young Grant rather hoarsely. “I have made what haste I could.” And indeed his brow was damp, and he sank down in a chair in the sitting-room as if exhausted. Ewen asked him if he were ill, for he was clearly under the sway of some emotion or other; and, when Hector shook his head, said “Then ’tis this business of the slander on you. Have you discovered something?”

      “No, no, it is not