The Moonless Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

Liverpool, too, had been pressed into tendering his thanks, for the chap had taken no pay after all, and came up with a certificate of merit, hung on the wall of the study. Bathurst had given him a very ugly inkwell with hammered gold lid that he wished to be rid of, and Sir Henry had had a little plaque made up at his own expense to go with it. He was well pleased with all these tokens of success, and spent what time his poor health allowed sitting at his desk, admiring them and explaining their significance to callers.
    To spend more time in his study, he had accepted a post on the board of directors of the local parish board, and was further adding to his glory at the moment by wording up the petition demanding execution for General Bonaparte, when his mail was brought in. A smile formed on his thin lips when he saw the crest of the Admiralty on one long envelope. They were asking his opinion about what to do with Boney, he thought complacently. They’d know his opinion well enough when Bathurst got his letter! With a respect bordering on reverence, he slit the envelope open, taking care not to rip into the seal. The crested envelopes made dandy book markers in books he never read but left sitting occasionally on his desk. The smile turned to amazement as he read down the page. Dear sir: We seek your help in a matter of vital importance to the security of this country. We are aware of a plot to free General Bonaparte and ask your generosity in housing a special agent we are sending down to oversee this matter...” He read on, his heart beating tumultuously. There was much in it to please him, but the demand for complete secrecy sat poorly. Then, too, there was a certain insistence that the agent was to be master of the whole that discomfited him to no small degree. He was Sir Henry Boltwood, in charge of scotching Napoleon’s plans, and for Lord Melville to speak of Sir Henry “tendering aid” to another skated precariously close to being an insult. He considered the matter for full twenty minutes before picking up his quill and penning a reply. It was in the affirmative, of course—one could not refuse to do his bit when his country needed him, and as to “tendering aid,” there was nothing actually said of the fleet. He would remain in charge of the fleet, the captain of the ship that would put Boney in chains prior to drawing and quartering him. His reflections were not so far removed from those of his young son as he sat, pen in hand, staring at the Prince Regent’s likeness.
    It was a busy morning for him. The letter from Melville answered, he jotted one off to Bathurst asking what he thought of the notion of a petition demanding execution. He was so sure of a positive answer that he went ahead and drew it up, putting his own signature at the top of the page—Sir Henry Boltwood, K.B.E., in an impressive scrawl. He then dashed off to get Biddy, David and Marie to add theirs. He was so busy trotting from house to house amassing signatures and dropping the crested envelope and oblique hints as to an important missive from the Admiralty that he didn’t spend a second overseeing the installation of the powerful telescope at Bolt’s Point, thus saving David a great deal of annoyance.
    The whole family was pleasantly occupied throughout the day, Marie with David, Sir Henry with his letters and his petition, and Biddy with preparing a room for a mysterious guest. She half thought from Sir Henry’s air of importance the Prince Regent himself was coming to put up with them, and was thrilled at having a royal patient to see to, such a lovely invalidish one, too. The Prince’s love of being bled was legendary. She had her plumpest leeches picked out, ready for royal blood.
    The younger Boltwoods had no intimation they were to entertain company, and the young lady at least was delighted to find a fashionable gentleman sitting in the saloon when she came down to dinner. Had she known, she would have taken more pains