The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

gained for Gustavus extends only for eight days from midnight to-night. If the Danes do not receive definite con­ firmation within a week that either a Prussian army is mobilising to invade Demark from the south, or that a British fleet is preparing to sail against them, they will know that I have lied, and the game will be up.'

He paused for a moment, racked by a fit of coughing, then went on: 'In the matter of the Prussians we can do nothing. Before I left Copen­hagen Von Rhoda promised me that he would do his utmost to persuade King Frederick William to despatch troops to the Danish frontier. He will have the backing of Mr. Ewart, our Minister in Berlin, who played so great a part in founding the Triple Alliance, and of that good friend of ours, Prime Minister Von Hertzberg; but whether the King will agree to commit Prussia to war on Sweden's account no man can say. Therefore we must forget the Prussians and place our hopes only in what we may achieve ourselves. One final effort must be made to induce my Lord Carmarthen and Mr. Pitt to realise the imperative necessity of instantly publishing an order for the despatch of a fleet. You alone can tell them of our frightful situation at first hand. So at crack of dawn to-morrow you must go aboard the fastest British ship that is lying in the harbour here and get you off to England.'

'But...' Roger began.

'I know!' The Minister waved his scarcely begun protest im­patiently aside. 'You are flunking again of that wife of yours in Copen­hagen. Well, what of her? You told me yourself that you married her only because you were forced to it.'

'Even so,' Roger objected quickly. 'I made my vows to her in an English church. She loves me, and I am determined to honour them to the best of my ability.'

'Who seeks to prevent you? Not I.' 'The diplomat shrugged wearily. 'But she is safe and well cared for where she is. Surely you will not set her temporary inconvenience against a chance of saving ten thousand Swedish matrons and maids from being exposed to the licentious assaults of the brutal Danish soldiery?'

Roger thought miserably of Natalia Andreovna. She was now an exile. He had brought her out of Russia, and without a moment's notice, deserted her in Denmark. He had not even given her an opportunity, as yet, to ask him those questions about his family and status, to which she had every right to expect an answer. He had promised that he would rejoin her within a week, and seventeen days had already elapsed since he had abandoned her in the middle of their honeymoon. Now he was called upon to leave her marooned among strangers, with no further news of him than that he had sailed for England on urgent business, and would get back to her somehow, sometime, when his services were no longer required. To her it would appear abomin­ably callous treatment, and few courses could be better calculated to disrupt the marriage that, once committed to it, he had determined to do his best to make a happy one.

Yet, what else could he do, other than agree to Hugh Elliot's request that he should set out for England in the morning? So much hung upon it. The fate of nations was involved; the lives and happiness of scores of thousands of people, and, above all, the honour of his country.

'So be it,' he sighed. 'I will write her another letter, explaining matters as well as I am able. May I rely upon you to ensure it being conveyed to her by a safe hand; and also to see that she does not lack for funds during my absence?'

'Indeed, I will; and I shall consider Mistress Brook to be my per­sonal charge until your return. I, too, must pen a letter, for you to cany with you to my Lord Carmarthen. Let us set about it before I am quite overcome by this fever that assails me.'

There was a table in the middle of the room with quills, ink and paper on it; so they sat down opposite one another and commenced their respective tasks.

As Roger began to write it struck him with grim humour that the excuse he had invented to cover his leaving Natalia had now become the truth; so there was little that he could say except that, Mr. Elliot still being without a trustworthy courier now required him to go to England. He sugared the bitter pill as best he could with en­ dearments, perfectly truthful protestations that he was compelled to go entirely against his wish, and promised that he would rejoin her as fast as a ship could bring him back to Denmark.

When they had done they sealed and exchanged their letters, doused the candles, and pulling off their neckbands flopped still dressed upon their beds.

In the morning Roger took his leave of King Gustavus, who presented him with a miniature of himself set in brilliants, and assured him that he would always be an honoured guest at the Swedish court. Then he accompanied Hugh Elliot down to the docks.

He had come ashore from the White Rosewearing his sword, but his pistols and all his other baggage had been left behind with Natalia in Copenhagen; so, on the way to the harbour, he bought a few toilet articles and a couple of changes of linen.

Since speed was of the utmost importance Elliot chose for Roger's voyage a full-rigged ship, the Bonny Brideout of Leith. Her captain, Hamish McDougal, at first protested most strongly against his ship being commandeered, as he was already freighted with a cargo of goods for his home port. But the British Minister would take no denial, and the King's business taking precedence of all others Captain McDougal had to resign himself with such grace as he could muster to preparing to set sail for London.

In spite of the marital complications in which Elliot had landed him, Roger had conceived a great admiration for the diplomat, and the desperate days they had been through together had made them firm friends, so they took leave of one another with reluctance and genuine affection.

The bosun and his mates were sent ashore to collect the crew from the dockside dives, then they were despatched to recover the ship's cannon that had been landed three days before. A stock of fresh meat and vegetables was procured, and four hours after Roger had come on board the Bonny Brideput out to sea.

In a ship carrying so much sail Roger expected to reach London in from three to four days, but it was not to be. On passing out of the Skager Rack that night she was met by an ominous calm which lasted for some hours, then at four o'clock in the morning a tempest of extraordinary violence suddenly broke upon her.

For two days and nights Captain McDougal fought the storm with all the courage and tenacity for which his race are justly famous, but on the second night he lost his foremast, and after its upper part had been cut away, it was hurled back by a great wave end on against the ship's side, doing her considerable damage.

Roger was a moderately good sailor but not good enough to stand up to really bad weather, and for hours on end he was terribly ill, so knew little of what was happening.

On the third morning the storm eased somewhat and he came on deck. He knew that the foul weather must have delayed them but hoped that they might be running down the east coast of England and that after all these months he would be able to get a sight of his native land. To his disappointment he could see nothing but a waste of heaving grey-green waters, then, to his horror and dismay, Captain McDougal told him that they had been driven several hundred miles out of their course and were now somewhere off Norway.

Worse was to follow. At mid-day the Captain managed to get an observation and, finding their position to be approximately 620 N., 3° E., decided to put into Bergen, to have urgent repairs done before proceeding further. In vain Roger stressed the urgency of his mission, cursed, pleaded and finally threatened. Captain McDougal refused to risk his ship and crew by remaining at sea a moment longer than he had to, and would not even consider the suggestion of making for a port in the north of Scotland. Early the following morning, Sunday the 14th of October, the Bonny Bridelimped into Bergen. Roger had hoped that he might find another ship there sailing in a day or two for a British port, but he was disappointed; and if he attempted the ghastly journey of three hundred miles over almost trackless mountains to Kristiania there was no guarantee that he would have better luck there; so he decided that it would be best to remain where he was for the five or six days which it was estimated the repairs would take.

Muffled in his cloak against the cold, he spent most of his time watch­ing the shipwrights at work, in a fever of impatience for them to be done; but it took a full six working days to render the Bonny Bride sea-worthy, so it was not until Sunday the 21st that she put out from the bleak Norwegian port.

The weather was now moderately good, so they made an average passage and entered the estuary of the Thames late on the night of the 24th. At dawn on Tuesday morning Roger landed at Gravesend and took the first coach to London. On arriving there he went straight to Downing Street and sent his name up to the Prime Minister.

He was kept waiting for some twenty minutes, and during them he brooded miserably, as he had done almost uninterruptedly through his waking hours of the past ten days, on the possibly disastrous results of his belated