The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

Except for the swift shuffling of feet and an occasional curse or cry of pain, the fight was being waged with silent ferocity. Beyond the little circle of swaying, lunging figures the stillness of the pre-dawn hour had, up to that moment, remained unbroken, but now the ring of horses' hoofs came with sudden clearness on the crisp, cool air.

Instantly Roger began to shout for help. During the past two months the use of French had become so habitual to him that he instinctively used that language, calling out at the top of his voice: 'A' moi! A' moi!'

The hoof-beats grew rapidly louder, and by the direction from which they came he knew that a coach must be driving along the main road, past the front of the Russian Embassy, only fifty yards away.

Lurching to his feet he began to run towards it, .redoubling his cries as he went. Count Yagerhorn lashed him again; the lanky man kicked him on the thigh; but he staggered on yelling with all the power of his lungs.

In the moonlight he could now see the leaders of the team that drew the coach. To his infinite relief they swerved round the corner into the bylane, drawing the vehicle swiftly towards him. But the Count and his bullies were determined that their prey should not escape. The Finn was only two yards behind him and striking at him again and again as he ran. Heavy footfalls told that at least two of the others had recovered sufficiently from their .hurts to assist in the pursuit.

The champing horses of the coach team were reined in to a halt. It had hardly stopped before a thin man of medium height jumped from it into the roadway.

At that second the thick-set man threw his cudgel. It struck Roger a violent blow on the back of the head. Pitching forward he fell at the feet of the newcomer. Aching in every limb, dazed and exhausted he was conscious for a moment that, in a high-pitched voice, the man from the coach was shouting short, imperative phrases in Swedish, and that Yagerhorn and his roughs had halted, turned, and were fleeing; then he fainted.

When he came to, he found himself being lifted from the coach. Supported by two men he was half-pulled, half-carried through the doorway of a house and up several flights of steep stairs. The effort to help rather than hinder his progress proved too much for him, and, as they reached an attic-room at the top of the house, he lost con­sciousness again.

On his regaining his senses for the second time, he saw that he was now in bed in the attic-room and that a middle-aged man with thick fair hair cut en brosse, who wore a severe dark cloth suit but did not look like a servant, was bending over him. His hurts had had salves put on them and been bandaged while he was unconscious. They smarted considerably less than they had when he had been helped upstairs, but his head was aching vilely.

On seeing his eyes open the soberly-clad man asked in French: 'How feel you now?'

'Better, I thank you; but for my head,' Roger replied with an effort. 'Pardon me if I fail to recognise you; but surely 'twas not you who rescued me from that crew of villains?'

'Nay, it was my master,' came the quick answer, 'and he has charged me to care for you. But, tell me, Monsieur; what is your name and where is your abode? I ask that I may send to let your friends know that you are here, lest they be anxious for you.'

Roger smiled gratefully up into the aesthetic face of his questioner. 'I am fortunate in having quite a number of friends in Stockholm; but none who would be concerned for me at the moment. I am the Chevalier de Breuc, a visitor to Sweden, and for the past five weeks have been lying at the Vasa Inn.'

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded. 'In that case no such measures as I had envisaged are required. But 'tis dawn already, and you had best sleep for a few hours.'

Not only had Roger been up all night, but his beating had taken a good deal out of him; so, within a few minutes of the man having left him, he fell into a deep sleep from which he did not wake until well on in the afternoon.

His left arm and shoulder-blade pained him sharply as he moved and his head was still aching dully. Cautiously, he lifted his arm and felt it all over; to his relief no bones seemed to be broken. He noticed that his clothes had been brushed and lay neatly folded on a nearby chair, but he felt no inclination to get up and was quite content to lie there dozing for another hour or so; until the door opened softly and his dark-clad host came in carrying a tray of food for him.

Roger expressed his thanks, then added: 'I have no wish to trespass on your kindness unduly, Monsieur, and I find myself now sufficiently recovered to get up; so when I have eaten I will dress and return to my inn.'

The other shook his fair, close-cropped head. 'It is better that you should bide here for the night. I am sure, too, that my master will wish to see you before you leave, and 'tis unlikely that he will come in until midnight. If you feel well enough to dress then, so much the better, as he would be able to talk to you in greater comfort down­ stairs.'

It struck Roger as somewhat strange that his rescuer should require him, while still a semi-invalid, to wait upon him at so late an hour; but both gratitude and politeness forbade him commenting on the fact, so he said: 'As you wish, Monsieur. May I know the name of the gentleman to whom I am indebted for my safety; and your name too?'

'My master is the Count Haga,' came the quiet reply. 'As for myself, I am usually known as the Prebendary.'

Alone once more Roger pondered this slender information. The name Count Haga had a vaguely familiar ring, but somehow he could not place it, and assumed that the Count must be one of the many Swedish nobleman whom he had met casually at some reception during the past five weeks, or had heard mentioned in conversation. The designation of Prebendary conveyed nothing, except that its bearer was a clergyman, and Roger concluded that the fair man must be Count Haga's private chaplain.

When he had finished his meal he slept again. On waking he felt much better and found that the room was almost in darkness. His watch had been placed on a table beside his bed and wound up for him; a glance at it showed that it was half-past nine, so he decided to get up. Having lit the candles on the dressing table he set about his toilette. It was a slow and painful process, but by half-past ten he had made himself as presentable as was possible without a change of linen.

To kick his heels in the attic for an hour and a half seemed an uninspiring way of passing the time, so he thought he would go down­stairs and talk to me Prebendary until Count Haga put in an appear­ance. But, on going to the door, he found to his great surprise that it was locked. He remembered then having noticed earlier in the day that the single, sloping skylight in the steep roof of the attic was heavily barred.

As it dawned upon him that he was a prisoner he recalled having already thought it a little queer that, being obviously a person of quality himself, he should have been put in an attic; when, in a noble­man's house, there were nearly always a number of spare bedrooms. Puzzle his wits as he would, he could think of no possible reason why the mysterious Count Haga should wish to detain him there against his will; but there had been no indication that any harm was intended him, so he sat down to await a solution to the mystery with such patience as he could muster.

Soon after midnight the Prebendary came for him, and refraining from comment on the locked door, he followed his guide downstairs to a comfortable book-lined room on the first floor.

A richly-dressed man whom Roger judged to be a little over forty was standing with his back to the empty grate smoking a long pipe. His features were sharp; a big, slightly-curved nose jutting out from his somewhat receding chin and forehead. But his brow was broad, his eyes large and intelligent, and his mouth firm.

He returned Roger's bow only by a slight inclination of the head but courteously waved him to a chair; then said briskly in such ex­cellent French that his Swedish accent was hardly perceptible.

'I am happy to see, Monsieur, that you have sustained no serious injury. Tell me, please; what were you about outside the side-door of the Russian Embassy in the early hours of the morning?''

Strong as was Roger's cause for resentment against Natalia Andreovna, he had been brought up in the tradition that a gentleman does not 'kiss and tell,' so his immediate instinct was to protect her reputation. He was about to reply that, finding the summer-dawns in Stockholm irresistible, he had been taking an early morning walk, when Count Haga forestalled him, by adding:

'If you had been lying with that vicious Russian slut you are not called upon to protect her name from any mistaken sense of chivalry. 'Twould not be the first time that having quarrelled with one of her gallants she has had him whipped beneath her window.'

Roger recalled Angelique de Pons' warning to him on his first night in Stockholm, that Natalia had a