House of Torment

There was a voice behind them, a voice speaking in broken but fluent English.

"You have broken into my house, you have killed my servant, you have prevented me from calling for help from you, a King lies bound in my upper chamber, v'là! And now you go to run a little course, to scurry hither and thither before the dogs are at your throats. You are all prepared to die. I also am ready to die if it must be so, but it need not be so if you will listen to me."

"What mean you?" Johnnie said.

As he spoke he saw, with a mingling of surprise and disgust, that the big painted face of Madame La Motte was full of animation and excitement. She seemed as if the events of the last hour had but stirred her to endeavour, had given a fillip to her sluggish life.

More astonishing than all, she rose from her chair, gathering together her vast, unwieldy bulk, came round from behind the table, and joined their conference almost with vivacity.

"Tiens," she said, "there are other countries than this. An army beaten in an engagement is not always routed. Retreat is possible within friendly frontiers."

The horrible old creature had such a strength and personality about her that, with her blood-stained mouth, her great panting body, her trembling jewelled hands, she yet in that moment dominated them all.

"There is one last chance. At dawn – and dawn is near by – the ship St. Iago sails from the Thames for foreign parts. The master of the ship, Clark, is" – she lowered her voice and spoke only to Commendone – "is a client of mine here. He is much indebted to me in many ways, and ere day breaks we may all be aboard of her and sailing away. What is't to be, messieurs?"

They all looked at each other for a moment in silence.

Then Elizabeth put her arms round the old woman's neck and kissed her.

"Madame," she said, "surely God put this into your heart to save us all. I will come with you, and Johnnie will come, and good John Hull withal, and so we may escape and live."

The old Frenchwoman patted the slim girl upon the back. "Bien, chérie," she said, "that's a thing done. I will look after you and be a mother to you, and so we will all be happy."

Commendone and his servant looked on in amazement. At this dreadful hour, in this moment of extremest peril, the wicked old woman seemed to take charge of them all. She did not seem wicked now, only genial and competent, though there was a tremor of fear in her voice and her movements were hurried and decisive.

"Jean-Marie," she called suddenly, and then, "Phut! I forgot. It is under the cushions. Well, we must even do without a messenger. Have you money, Master Commendone?"

Johnnie shook his head. "Not here."

"Mais, mon Dieu! I have a plenty," she answered, "which is good for all of us. Wait you here."

She hurried away, and went up the stair towards the rooms above.

"Shall I follow her, master?" Hull said, his hand upon his dagger.

Johnnie shook his head.

"No," he answered, "she is in our boat. She must sink or swim with us."

They waited there for five or ten minutes, hearing the heavy noise of Madame's progress above their heads. They waited there, and as they did so the room seemed to become cold, their blood ran slowly within them, the three grouped themselves close together as if for mutual warmth and consolation.

Then they heard a high-pitched voice at the top of the stairs.

"Send your man up, Monsieur, send your man up. I have no strength to lift this bag."

At a nod from Johnnie, Hull ran up the stairs. In a moment more he came down, staggering under the burden of a great leather wallet slung over his shoulder, and was followed by Madame La Motte, now covered in a fur cloak and hood.

She held another on her arm. "Put it on, put it on," she said to Elizabeth, "quickly. We must get out of this. The dawn comes, the wind freshens, we have but an hour."

And then in the ghostly dawn the four people left the House of Shame, left it with the red door open to the winds, and hurried away towards the river.

None of them spoke. The old dame in her fur robe shuffled on with extraordinary vitality, past straggling houses, past inns from which nautical signs were hung, for a quarter of a mile towards the mud-marsh which fringed the pool of Thames. She walked down a causeway of stones, sunk in the mud and gravel, to the edge of the water.

It was now high tide and the four came out in the grey light upon a little stone quay where some sheds were set.

In front of one of them, heavily covered with tar, a lantern was still burning, wan and yellow in the coming light of day.

Madame La Motte kicked at the door of this shed with her high-heeled shoe. There was no response. She opened the door, burst into a stuffy, fœtid place where two men were lying upon coils of rope. She stirred them with her foot, but they were in heavy sleep, and only groaned and snored in answer.

"I'll wake them, Madame," Johnnie said, "I'll stir them up," his voice full of that thin, high note which comes to those who feel themselves hunted. He clapped his hand to his side to find his sword; his fingers touched an empty scabbard. Then he remembered.

"I am swordless," he cried, forgetting everything else as he realised it.

Behind him there was a thud and a clanking, as John Hull dropped the leathern bag he held.

"Say not so, master," he said, and held out to the young man a sword in a scabbard of crimson leather, its hilt of gold wire, its guard set with emeralds and rubies, the belt which hung down on either side of the blade, of polished leather studded with little stars and bosses of gold.

"What is this?"

"Look you, sir, as we passed out of Madame's room, I saw this sword leaning in a corner of the wall by the door. His Highness had left it there, doubtless, ere he went upstairs. 'So,' says I to myself, 'this is true spoil of war, and in especial for my master!'"

Johnnie took the sword, looked at it for a moment, and then unbuttoned his own belt and girded it on.

"So shall it be for a remembrance to me," he said, "for now and always."

But he did not need to use it. Madame's exertions had been sufficient. Her shrill, angry voice had wakened the watermen. They rose to their feet, wiped their eyes, and, seeing persons of quality before them, they hastened down the little hard and embarked the company in their wherry. Then they pulled out into the stream. The tide was running fast and free towards the Nore, but they made for a large ship of quite six hundred tons, which was at anchor in mid-stream. When they came up to it, and caught the hanging ladder upon the quarter with a boat-hook, the deck was already busy with seamen in red caps, and a tarry, bearded old salt, his head tied up in a woollen cloth, was standing on the high poop, and cursing the men below. Madame La Motte saw him first. She put two fat fingers in her mouth and gave a long whistle, like a street boy.

The captain looked round him, up into the rigging where the sailors were already busy upon the yards, looked to his right, looked to his left, and then straight down from the poop upon the starboard quarter, and saw Madame La Motte. He stumbled down the steps on to the main deck, and peered over the bulwarks. "Mother of God!" he cried, "and what's this, so early in the morning?"

The old Frenchwoman shrieked up at him in her broken English. "Tiens! Tiens! Send your men to help us up, Captain Clark. Thou art not awake. Do as I tell you."

The captain rubbed his eyes again, called out some orders, and in a moment or two Johnnie had mounted the ladder, and stood upon the deck.

"Now the ladies," he said in a quick, authoritative voice.

Elizabeth came up to the side, and then it was the question of Madame La Motte. John Hull stood in the tossing, heaving wherry, and gave the woman her first impetus. She clawed the side ropes, cursing and spitting like a cat as she did so, mounting the low waist of the ship like a great black slug. As soon as she got within arm's length of the captain and a couple of sailors, they caught her and heaved her on board as if she had been a sack, and within ten seconds afterwards John Hull, with the leather bag over his shoulder, stood on the deck beside them. Johnnie felt in his pocket and found some coins there. He flung them over to the watermen, and they fell in the centre of the boat as it sheered off.

Mr. Clark, captain of the St. Iago, was now very wide awake.

"I will thank ye, Madame," he said, "to explain your boarding of my ship with your friends."

The quick-witted Frenchwoman went up to him, put her fat arms round his neck, pulled his head down, and spoke in his ear for a minute. When she had finished the captain raised his head, scratched his ear, and looked doubtfully at Commendone, Elizabeth, and John Hull.

"Well," he said, in a thick voice, "since you say it, I suppose I must, though there is little accommodation on board for the likes of you. You pay your passage, Madame, I suppose?"

"Phut! I will make you rich."

The captain's eyes contracted with leery cunning.