The King's Men Part 22

"At the hour of noon to-morrow," continued Dacre, speaking to Colonel Arundel, "the King's banner will be raised at Aldershot, and at that hour you will proclaim to the brigade under your command the restoration of the Monarchy and his Majesty's presence in the camp." The veteran withdrew with a proud smile.

"Colonel Featherstone, Sir James Singleton, Lord Arthur Towneley, Mr.

Blaney Balfour;" as Dacre read from a list, the gentlemen named drew near the table. "You are of the royal escort; you will await the arrival of the King at Aldershot and accompany him to the camp."

When Dacre had issued all the prepared orders for the outbreak, the meeting broke up.

As Geoffrey walked with Dacre to their quarters, the streets of London were deserted and quiet, as if no danger lay hid in the clouds of the morrow. Dacre was filled, body and soul, with the a.s.surance of a glorious success; but cool-headed Geoffrey felt none of his enthusiasm, though his step was light and his voice as full of cheer as his friend's mood required. But when they met a burly, quiet policeman on his beat, who placidly wished them, "Good-morning, gentlemen," Geoffrey could not restrain a burst of hearty laughter--which, however, he did not explain to Dacre.

Geoffrey slept soundly for a few hours, and was up early to keep his appointment with Dacre. He could scarcely credit his senses to find himself on such an errand, as he strode through the already busy streets, meeting the quiet folk at their early occupations, while he was bent on civil war in two hours' time, with his overcoat pockets heavy with loaded pistols!

Dacre and he breakfasted in a private room at the old Army and Navy Club almost in silence. They had met at the door, coming from opposite directions, and greeted each other with a firm grip of the hand. Under a large overcoat Dacre wore his old staff uniform, and he smiled proudly as Geoffrey took off his outer coat and showed his ancestors'

silver-hilted sword buckled high round his body, so that it should not strike the ground or be seen below the coat.

As they drove to the railway station it was a dull, drizzling morning.

At the station they saw many of those who had attended the meeting the previous night; but, by arrangement, the conspirators did not recognize each other, even by a sign. When they arrived at the Aldershot Station there was no indication of anything unusual. A few orderlies from the camp came and went, but this was an every-day sight.

The Royalists dispersed at once, some walking, some in the common camp omnibuses, and some in cabs. The point of a.s.sembly was in the officers'

lines of the infantry camp, where Colonel Arundel, who was acting brigadier, had provided a large mess tent for their reception--and on this morning, by his arrangement and for their guidance, no other tent but this in the camp was marked by a flag.

On arriving at the tent, Dacre and Geoffrey found only two of their fellow-conspirators, both youths, awaiting them. But it was very early, not 9.30, and the hour of meeting was 11. The next man to arrive was Mr.

Sydney, who, fearing a shot from his old enemy, the gout, more than a bullet from a Republican rifle, stepped gingerly from the omnibus that dropped him near the lines. As Geoffrey shook his hand, a pang went through his conscience for ever having made a jest of so simple and brave a heart.

By ones and twos, as the hours pa.s.sed, the Royalists came to the rendezvous. Not once had they met with question or opposition. The sentries, as they pa.s.sed, stood to "attention," evidently regarding them as officers belonging to the camp.

The mess tent was well removed from the regular roads of the camp, and only a few soldiers pa.s.sed near it all the morning.

Once, while Geoffrey stood at the open door, a mounted artillery officer rode past. He was a young man, with a strongly-marked, stern face, and as he pa.s.sed the tent it seemed to Geoffrey that he cast a sudden, keen glance within. At first, Geoffrey was so convinced of this that he turned to speak to Dacre; but glancing after the officer, he saw him stop and speak to a man who was coming toward the tent, and whom Geoffrey recognized as one of the military men of the previous night's meeting. After a few words they saluted like friends and separated.

"You know that officer, sir?" asked Geoffrey, as the old soldier came to the tent door. "I thought he looked this way in an odd manner as he pa.s.sed."

"Oh, yes," answered the other; "that is young Devereux, the clever fellow who has invented the tremendous gun, you know, and revolutionized the old tactics. An able fellow, sir--and a colonel at thirty-six. I knew his father forty years ago at Woolwich, when we were cadets."

"You think I was mistaken, then, in fancying that he looked this way?"

asked Geoffrey.

"I should say so--bless my soul! I should hope so, too. That's the cleverest fellow in the whole service; and we don't want to meet him at the very start."

"Perhaps he may be with us?" suggested Geoffrey.

"No; it isn't likely. Devereux is with nothing but science and discipline. But if he were with us he would be better than twenty regiments."

"And against us?"

"Ah! there are circ.u.mstances that alter cases. With us he would be free to act on his own devising, for we should make him commander of the forces. Against us he is only a subordinate, controlled by some stupid major-general."

Eleven o'clock came, and there were twenty-seven men in the tent.

Besides these were the several officers of the regiment in camp, who were in their quarters ready for the signal.

At the door of the mess tent rose a tall flag-pole, with halyards attached, which entered the tent. To these, by the hands of Dacre, was fastened the Royal Standard of England, to be given to the breeze at the sound of the noonday gun.

At half-past eleven the bugles of the infantry regiments were heard sounding for a general parade; and in a few minutes the scarlet lines were seen on the parade ground, forming, wheeling, and marching into brigade formation.

The commanding officer and the colonels of six out of seven regiments would call on the troops to cheer for King George when they saw the royal banner at the mast. Inside the mess tent there was a scene of quiet preparation, which had its ludicrous as well as pathetic features.

Many of the Royalists had come in military uniforms of various kinds and countries. As the hour drew near they laid aside their overcoats, and composed an odd group for a military critic. The Duke of Bayswater wore an old red tunic of the yeomanry cavalry, which he had commanded in his county half a century before; Mr. Sydney a lancer's fatigue jacket, which he had worn as a lieutenant in King Edward's time; there was one in the tunic of a captain of French artillery, and several others wore continental uniforms. Every one was armed in some way or other.

As the infantry brigade wheeled into line on the parade-ground a distant trumpet sounded far in the rear.

"Dacre, what is that trumpet?" asked Geoffrey, in a low tone.

Dacre looked at his watch as he listened. He did not reply, but shook his head and smiled at Geoffrey.

"That is an artillery trumpet," said the old officer to whom Geoffrey had spoken before, and who now came quietly to Dacre. "It came from the direction of Colonel Devereux's battery--though I remember distinctly he told me that this was not a field day."

It was clear to Geoffrey's eye that Dacre was suffering under some heavy fear or despondency that quelled his excitement. There was a look in his face of tense expectancy that was pitiful to his friend.

"The King was to have been here at eleven," said Geoffrey to him at last. "It is now twenty minutes to twelve. Can anything have happened, Dacre?"

Dacre looked at him reproachfully; but only shook his head, without a smile. Geoffrey walked to the door, and turned suddenly, almost with a shout.

"Here's Featherstone!" he cried. "He was in the King's escort; he has news."

The Royalists crowded around Featherstone as he entered, but their eager eyes found no rea.s.surance in his face, which was pale, and, still more unlike Featherstone, full of anger and gloom.

He did not reply to the hail of questions which met him, but looked around for Dacre, and went to him.

"The King?" asked Dacre, sternly.

"The King has disappeared," answered Featherstone, "and no one knows where he has gone."

There was a dead silence in the tent; not a man moved. Dacre looked at his watch. It was ten minutes to twelve.

"He may be on the way here by another route," suggested the old Duke.

"What have you done to obtain information?" asked Dacre.

"At eleven o'clock the escort waiting at the station in London telephoned us that the train had gone and the King had not arrived. We waited ten minutes and then I telephoned direct to the house of the King's banker and received in answer these words: 'The King left here at two o'clock this morning to go on board his steam-yacht. He has sailed for America.' In reply to my questions, no reason was given for his going, as no one there knew, and Bugbee had not returned since the King's departure."

Featherstone folded his arms and looked at Dacre, on whom again all eyes turned. He held in one hand the royal banner, fast to the halyards, and in the other hand his watch.

At this moment the artillery trumpet heard before sounded much nearer, and it was answered, apparently, by other trumpets at different points of the camp.

"Gentlemen," said Dacre, drawing up his tall figure with superb pride, and looking calmly round the tent, "in two minutes it will be noon--the hour of our movement. Yonder rides the brave man who will proclaim the Monarchy, and it is too late now to warn him or his fellow-officers and patriots. We may draw back; but they will go on. The world will be the witness. If the King has been false to us--and we do not know that he has--we shall be true to our cause and to ourselves."

There was a pause. Dacre's eyes were on the dial in his hand.

"Gentlemen!" he cried, as he placed the watch in his pocket, "it is twelve o'clock! Shall I raise the King's flag?"

"Ay! Up with it!" rang out the brave shout.