I approached the shrubbery. Perhaps he was a robber; perhaps he was a murderer; perhaps he was a ghost; but I was always reckless and never thought of the clever thing to do until I had done that which was foolish.
I heard his voice then urgent and insistent. “Yes, please come into the shelter of the trees. It will be safer.”
I stepped into the path among the trees and he came to meet me. He was wearing a cloak and a black felt hat over the kind of short periwig which most men had started to wear when the King’s brother set the fashion. The moon had escaped from the clouds which had shielded it and shone on the shrubbery.
“I am Jocelyn Frinton,” he said.
In such moments I suppose one should feel something intense, some premonition. I did feel an excitement which made me tremble, but that was because I remembered I had heard the name before and I realized that the events of which we had talked over dinner had moved nearer and that, remote in the country though I was, I was now being drawn into intrigue.
“I’ve heard of you,” I said.
“They murdered my father. They are after me. Please … Eversleigh is here, I know.
He’ll help. I know he will. Go and tell him. Remember … only tell Eversleigh … or perhaps Leigh Main if he is there, too. Tell him. Either one of them. But tell no one else. It’s dangerous … a matter of life and death. If they get me ...”
“I understand,” I told him. “You’ll be safe here until the morning. No one comes here. They think it is haunted. My brother should be back by now. I’ll tell him at once.”
He smiled and I noticed how handsome he was. In fact I thought I had never seen anyone so handsome, and I felt a great desire to help him.
I went back to the house to find that the others had returned.
“Where did you get to?” demanded Leigh. “Why, what’s the matter? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”
I said: “Come inside. I want to talk to you. It’s very important. I’ve seen… something.”
Leigh put his arm about me affectionately. “I knew it was a ghost,” he said.
“More dangerous than that,” I whispered.
We went to the schoolroom-Edwin, Leigh, Christabel and I. As soon as the door was shut I blurted out: “Jocelyn Frinton is in the shrubbery.”
“What!” cried Leigh.
“He’s dead,” said Edwin.
“No. It’s the son of that one. He’s being hunted. I went down there when I came in and I heard someone there. I shouted for him to come out and I threatened him with the dogs. Then he spoke to me and told me that he must see you, Edwin … or Leigh … because he wants you to help him. They murdered his father, he said, and they would do the same to him if they caught him.”
“God help us!” cried Leigh. “It is this monster, Titus Gates.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Christabel.
“We’ve got to help him of course,” replied Leigh.
“How?” asked Edwin.
“Give him food for one thing and find him a hiding place for another.”
“You can’t keep him hidden long in the shrubbery,” I pointed out.
“No,” replied Edwin, “but this madness is going to be over sooner or later. Gates is beginning to show up in his true colours. People will turn against him in time, I’m sure of it.”
“It could be a year… two years,” said Christabel.
“Nevertheless,” said Leigh, who had always been the man of action, “the first thing to do is to get him to a place of safety.”
“There is the secret compartment in the library where my father hid our treasures during the war and saved them from the Roundheads,” I said.
Edwin was thoughtful. “If he were discovered that would bring the family into it.”
“My father hates the Papists,” I said.
“There you have it,” replied Edwin. “The country is being divided. That is what happens when there is an affair like this. Before Gates reared his ugly head people did not greatly care how others worshiped. It is because of this anxiety about the succession and rumours about the King’s brother’s religion…”
“I know, I know,” interrupted Leigh impatiently, “but in the meantime we have to do something about Jocelyn Frinton. If he is caught it will be the end of him. Where can we put him?”
“We shall have to be careful,” I cautioned. “We have a fanatic in Jasper. He would soon discover him if he remained in the shrubbery and there is no doubt what his reaction would be. He thinks Catholics are agents of the devil and talks often of the Whore of Babylon. He is a bigoted old man and a dangerous one.”
“Then it can’t be the garden and it can’t be the house,” said Leigh.
“I know a place!” I cried. “It would do for a while anyway. Your father was there, Edwin, when he came to England during the cornmonwealth. I remember my mother’s showing it to me. She came with your father. It was just before he was murdered.”
“All right. All right,” said Leigh. “Where is this place?”
“It’s White Cliff Cave on a lonely part of the shore. Few people ever go there. It would be a good hiding place.”
“It’s the best suggestion so far,” said Leigh approvingly. “Now we have to get to work quickly.”
He was silent suddenly, putting his finger to his lips. He was clearly listening.
