three weeks thence i accompanied mr. bradbury on the journey down from london to my grandfather’s house. mr. bradbury had sent off a letter to mr. craike announcing that he purposed to visit him, and to present his grandson to him. he had received only a few lines of a letter in reply, penned, he believed, not by the old man but by his son charles,—to the effect that mr. bradbury’s information astounded mr. edward craike, but that he consented to receive mr. bradbury and the young gentleman when it should be convenient for them to journey down to craike. mr. bradbury seemed ill-pleased with the nature of the letter; he took pains to impress on me the desirability of my commending myself to my grandfather’s favour and affection.
from mr. bradbury’s first admission to me, on our journey up to london, that he had no liking for charles craike, and that his purpose was to prevent his inheriting his father’s fortune, he had stressed repeatedly my uncle’s certain chagrin at p. 54my appearance in craike house and his inevitable hostility to me. already, indeed, i hated my uncle charles, and was ardent to avenge on him my parents’ sufferings at his hands; else, i had only a natural curiosity in these kinsfolk of mine, and a lively interest in the prospect of adventure. “rogues’ haven”—so the country folk named craike house; mr. bradbury would tell me only that the name resulted from rustic curiosity and from the eccentricities of my grandfather’s servants; the gentleman’s very reticence concerning my kinsmen, the stock from which they were sprung, and the sources of their wealth, intrigued me the more.
mr. bradbury had treated me handsomely at his fine house in london; a country lad, i had enjoyed the wonders and diversions of the town. he had put me into the hands of his tailor; so that now i was dressed, if not as fastidiously, at least with a fashion equal to his own. i had not ceased to admire my blue cloth coat, silver-buttoned and braided, or my white breeches, or to appreciate the ease of silken stockings on my legs and fine linen on my body. now wrapped warmly in greatcoat and shawls i sat with mr. bradbury in his coach, driven through the night towards craike house. we should have arrived at our destination on the second afternoon p. 55of our journey, but delayed by a cast shoe, here were we now seated still in the coach, stiff and weary; i felt my stomach sinking from the lack of a meal; and the dark was come. ay, the night was come with a rough gale from the sea; the mud from the wet roads obscured the glass; this mattered nothing, for the night was inky black with clouds wind-driven. we were out, mr. bradbury told me, on a wild and lonely stretch of road, and not more than nine miles from our destination. but when the lash of rain washed clear the carriage-glass, and the light of the lamps flashed on his face, i saw him anxious and his eyes alert; i understood his concern, which i had remarked throughout our journey, over a little oaken box by his side. i had assumed that it contained documents; now that it was open on his knees, i saw that it held a pair of pistols; he was looking at the priming of them as the light allowed him. i cried out, to be heard above the roll of the wind and the rumble of the wheels, “what d’ye fear, sir? highwaymen?”
he cried back, “a mere precaution, mr. craike. i’m always cautious on these roads,—lonely and dark, and no one within hail.”
“pray let me handle one,” i called; but he answered, smiling, “nay, my dear sir, i’ll not trust you with ’em, if you’ll allow me. for you p. 56might easily be pistoling one of your own folk, not knowing.”
“have no fear, sir, i’ve had the handling of a pistol ere this,” i assured him. but, smiling that odd smile of his, he answered nothing.
now it seemed that mr. bradbury’s coachboy knew the road well—the gentleman having travelled over it often before; for, without direction from his master he drove on as steadily through the dark as the roughness of the way and the weariness of the horses would allow. ay, and the wildness of the night—the great wind from the sea; we were travelling near to the coast; once when mr. bradbury let down the glass to peer out, the salt tang and the reek of mud flats was borne in on the chill air. i realised that mr. bradbury’s apprehension grew with the darkness and the storm. when he drew up the glass and sat down, he did not lie back on his cushions or muffle his shawl about his ears; he leaned towards the window, staring forth into the dark, seeming, too, by his impatient wave of his hand when i would have spoken, to be listening intently. i strained my ears to hear, but for the time heard nothing save the rumble of wheels, and the rushing of the wind; afar a thunderous sound as the beating of the sea, no more, until the wind was cut from us in a dip of the road, as if we p. 57drove among great trees, or between high hedgerows; then it seemed i heard the pounding of hoofs upon the road, as if the riders were at no great distance in the rear. the sound was indistinguishable, when presently we swept out into the open country; and the wind had its way with us once more. as we drove on apace, mr. bradbury remained intent by the window; committing myself to providence and mr. bradbury, i lay back on my cushions. indeed, i attached little import to the sounds; i was dull with weariness and hunger; i had been travelling for nigh two days. i had spent the worst of bad nights through the suffocation of a deep feather bed at the inn in which we had lodged for the night. i tell you the desire for sleep prevailed over uneasiness at the loneliness of our way and sounds of riders through the night; or my excitement at the thought of presentation to my kinsfolk. i lay back; pulled my greatcoat about me, and slept. from time to time, the jolting of the coach, as the wheels dipped in the ruts or struck on stones, would rouse me; always i saw dully that mr. bradbury sat stiffly by the window, and that his left hand strayed towards the case of pistols open on the seat beside him.
i was awakened by the crash and splintering of glass. as i started up, i was flung backwards by p. 58the shock of plunging horses and reeling coach; half-dazed, i believed that i heard hoarse voices above the roaring wind. i believed that the door of the coach was dragged open; that mr. bradbury sought to hold it; failing, swung round and gripped his pistols; but at that instant the coach reeled, and he was flung out into the road; i saw the flashes of his discharging pistols as he fell.
the coach came to a standstill. i remember crying out, and leaping to my feet, to spring down into the road to mr. bradbury. i remember then only a flash of light—no more.
