Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story Read online

wouldn'thave laughed if you'd had it."

  "He did it to wake you up, Nat."

  "Oh, I was waken enough, Master Fred; but how's Brother Samson?"

  "Like you, Nat, half asleep," cried the boy, looking back as he hurriedon toward the house, leaving the man staring after him thoughtfully.

  "Yes," he muttered, "Samson is a deal like me. Wonder whether MasterFred ever chucks apples at he?"

  Meanwhile the lad addressed as Master Fred made his way along the housefront, peering in at first one and then another window, till he reachedthe great door opening on to the end of the shingled terrace.

  Without the slightest hesitation, and behaving like one who was quite athome, he entered the great oak-floored hall, and looked round--not atthe groups of weapons and suits of armour that were arranged as trophiesabout the place, nor yet at the pictures and various interesting objectshung between the stained-glass windows, on the oaken panels surroundedby carving and surmounted by the heads and antlers of deer killed on theadjacent moor.

  Fred Forrester had eyes for none of these objects, as he looked here andthere, now in the low-ceilinged and carved-oak dining-room, then in thedrawing-room, and, lastly, in Sir Godfrey Markham's library--a gloomy,tree-shaded room, where he thought it possible that his friend andcompanion might be hiding. But all was still, and there was no onebehind the heavy curtains, nor inside the huge black oak cabinet besidethe great mullioned window.

  "Wonder whether he's in the stables?" said Fred, half aloud, as he cameslowly out of the gloomy room and stood beneath the broad gallery whichcrossed the end of the hall. "I know. He's with the dogs," said thelad, taking a step from out of the shelter of the gallery, and thenstaggering forward and nearly going down on hands and knees; for at thatmoment a wool mattress, which had been poised ready on the gallerybalustrade, was dropped upon his head, and a peal of laughter echoedfrom the panelled ceiling as Fred recovered himself, and rushed up thebroad staircase to attack his aggressor.

  There was a good-tempered wrestling bout on the landing, and then thetwo lads, Fred Forrester and Sir Godfrey Markham's son Scarlett, stoodpanting and recovering their breath.

  "And you are quite alone?" said Fred at last.

  "Yes, all but the women; but I knew you'd come over, and I lay wait foryou, as soon as I saw you crossing the park."

  "Well, what shall we do?"

  "Let's fish."

  "Come along, then. Got any bait?"

  "No; but we'll make Nat dig us some worms. Let's go and get thatmattress first. It belongs to the spare-room."

  No sooner said than done. The two boys ran down the broad oaken stairs,leaping the last six, and, each seizing one corner of the mattress, theytrailed it up the stairs, along the gallery, and into a sombre-lookingroom, after which Fred rushed to the top of the staircase, seatedhimself astride the broad balustrade, and began to glide down, but onlyto be overtaken by Scarlett, with the effect that the latter portion ofthe descent was achieved with additional velocity.

  The ride was so satisfactory, that it was tried again and again,sometimes one first, sometimes the other.

  "Wonder whether I could travel all along the gallery and down to thebottom, hanging on to the balusters," said Fred, looking up at theturned supports, which grew thin in one place, and offered a temptinggrip for the hands.

  "Try," said his companion.

  "You'd play some trick!"

  "No, I wouldn't."

  "Honour bright!"

  "Honour bright."

  "Here goes, then."

  Fred bounded up the stairs, ran along the gallery, climbed over thebalustrade, and lowered himself down till he hung by his hands, holdingon to the thin part of the balusters, while Scarlett looked up and hisgrim-looking ancestors looked down.

  For as Fred Forrester, son of Colonel Forrester, of the Manor, performedhis feat, with no little display of agility, old Sir Gabriel Markham,who had built the hall in the days of Henry the Seventh, frowned fromhis canvas in one of the panels, and looked as cold and angry as an oldknight clad in steel could look.

  There, too, was Sir Henry, seeming equally stern in his court suit andhat, and Dame Markham, in stomacher and farthingale and ruff, with quitea look of alarm on their countenances, which was reflected from that ofanother of the old Markhams--all appearing either angry or startled atsuch a freak being played in their august presence.

  There was one exception though, in the face of a sweet-looking lady ofabout twenty, whose eyes seemed to follow the boys, while a pleasant,mirthful smile was upon her lip.

  But the boys did not even give a thought to the portraits, whose eyesseemed to watch them till the feat, which required the exercise of nolittle muscular effort, was dexterously performed, and Fred stood on theoaken floor.

  "Well, I suppose you think I couldn't do that, do you?" cried Scarlett.

  "Not I. Any one could do it if he tried."

  "Yes, I should think he could, and in half the time you took. Lookhere; I'll show you."

  "Try if you can do it with your face turned this way, Scar," cried Fred.

  For answer, the boy, who had reached the gallery, ran along to the end,climbed over, and then lowered himself down till he hung at full lengthby both hands clasping the balusters. Then he hung by one, and cleverlyswinging round, grasped another baluster, and hung facing his companion,who stood looking up and eagerly watching every movement.

  "Go on, Scar."

  "Oh yes, it's very easy to say go on; but see how awkward it is thisway."

  "Well, try the other."

  "Going to," said Scarlett, laconically, as he swung himself back, andthen hand over hand passed along the front of the gallery, reached theturn, grasped the second of the descending balusters, loosed his hold ofthe last one on the level of the landing, made a dash to catch the firstbaluster side by side with that he already held, missed it, and swunground, hanging by one hand only, when suddenly there was a loud_crick-crack_, and, under the impression that the slight wooden pillarhad broken, Fred sprang up the stairs to his companion's assistance, butonly to trip as he nearly reached the top and fall sprawling upon thelanding upon a great deer-skin rug.

  CHAPTER TWO.

  BEHIND THE STAIR.

  Fred was up again in a moment, ready to pass his arms through and helphis friend; but the latter had already recovered himself, and washolding on with both hands, now staring between the balusters like awild beast through the bars of his cage.

  "What's the matter?" he said.

  "I thought you were falling. Which one broke?"

  "I don't know; neither of them."

  "But what was that clacking noise?"

  "I don't know. The baluster seemed to turn half round, and then flyback as if it had a spring at the bottom."

  "I know! Look here. It wrenched this stair loose. I trod on it, andthat's what made me fall."

  "Wait till I've gone down to the bottom," said Scarlett, "and we'll soonput that right."

  As he spoke, the lad went on down, hand by hand, as Fred had made thedescent before him, and then came running up the polished oaken stairsto where his companion stood by the top stair but one, upon which lay abroad stain of red and gold, cast by a ray of light passing through oneof the painted windows.

  "It must have come unnailed," said Scarlett, as he knelt down.

  "I don't think it has," replied Fred, as he knelt beside him. "Lookhere, it's quite loose; and see here, you can push it right in."

  He thrust at the oaken board as he spoke, and it glided horizontallyfrom them under the top step which formed the landing, and left a longopening like a narrow box the length and width of the stair.

  "Don't push too far," cried Scarlett, "or we shan't get it back. Pull."

  The boys pulled together, and the oaken tread glided back toward themwith the greatest ease, like a well-made drawer.

  "Mind!" shouted Fred. And they snatched away their fingers just in timeto save a nasty pinch, for the board came swiftly back into itsposition. T
here was a sharp _crick-crack_, and the stair was as solidas before, and the broad stain from the painted window lay in its oldplace on the dark brown wood.

  Scarlett Markham turned and stared at Fred Forrester, and Fred Forresterturned and stared at him.

  "I say, what do you think of that?" said Scarlett.

  "I don't know. What do you?"

  "I don't know either," said Scarlett, trying to move the board again.But it was firm as the rest of the stairs.

  "Did you see that baluster?" said Fred.

  "See it? No. What do you mean?"

  "It seemed to me to move and make that noise."

  "Nonsense! How could