Read Online The Terror Time Spies by David Clement-Davies - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Clement-Davies
Ads: Link
dashed down again.
The boys went on, rattled and buffeted about, and after a time they felt the carriage slowing, so Henry leant out of the window. They had come to a wide cross roads, with a moss covered mile stone that said:
DOVER 123
It seemed like travelling to the moon to the untraveled Club.
“How fast do you think we’re going, Count?” asked Henry, pulling back inside again and suddenly wishing Francis Simpkins was there instead of Armande. “At this rate we won’t even be at the Night Watch til the early hours. At least no one knows about us.”
They went on again, wondering if they would catch up with Juliette, as the three Pimpernels passed fields and little hamlets, villages, pleasant streams and a countryside mostly at peace with itself in the sticky summer heat, untroubled by the bloody Revolution raging for four years across the sea in France, although with many signs that England too was mobilizing for war now.
It was not until mid-morning when Skipper Holmwood suddenly cried out though - “Look out, yoose.”
The boys both looked out, and to their horror, along the road to the West, came five men on horseback, travelling fast. Henry recognised their bright red coats: They were soldiers.
Were they following the Pimpernel Club though, wondered Hal, and if so, how did they ever know?
Skipper slowed the coach and a major, by the pips on his bright red jacket, came alongside the window at a trot, surprised to see two young lads inside, and looking as if butter would not melt in their young mouths.
“Mornin’, boys,” he grunted, “I’m Major Bishop of the 3 rd Dover Regiment. What are you lads doing travelling out here, on your own?”
“Going back to school, Sir,” answered Hal immediately, blushing slightly, “With this illness in London, Sir, er, our parents thought it safer to study by the sea.”
Armande frowned, when Henry added quickly: “St Hilyards. My little sister’s got the cholera, Sir, so they sent us on ahead. Just to be safe.”
“And I’m sorry indeed to hear it,” cried Major Bishop, noticing Armande’s over fine attire and Hal’s black eye and sitting back a little in his saddle, since the cholera was so feared. “But the road’s not safe, lads. Soldiers can’t be spared to patrol it, with the Devil loose in France, so travellers are easy game now, for Highwaymen.”
“Highwaymen?” gulped Henry.
“Right, lad, and one’s been working this very route, for months. He’ll hang when we catch up with him though. I’ll string him up myself.”
“You’re looking for him now, Sir?” asked Henry nervously.
“No fear, boy, we’ve other quarry now,” said the Major shortly, “There’s word of Frenchie spies abroad too. A farmer heard them talking and rode to raise the alarm.”
The two Pimpernels glanced sharply at each other and Count Armande seemed about to blurt something out, when Henry flashed the French lad a stern warning look. His Frenchie accent would give them both away.
Henry felt guilty though and wondered if he should not alert the adults immediately: The Authorities. What stopped him sharp was Juliette’s accusation of cowardice, what they were doing now, but above all their secret oath to the Club: The sacred oath.
“And we’d better be riding on,” said the major suddenly, “Don’t dawdle for a moment, lads, and get that eye seen to soon. We’ll wish you good day then, boys. Go on there, Henrietta.”
The major tapped his horses flanks gently yet the horse gave a furious whinny and almost reared as, to the boys’ astonishment, the major went galloping off on Henrietta, with a loud ‘ Woaw there, girl ’.
Something had struck her flanks and startled the horse into a frantic gallop, soon followed by the major’s men.
“ Slow, Henrietta, ” he bellowed. “ Slow there.”
“Phew,” gulped Henry, thinking he could hear a faint banging from
The boys went on, rattled and buffeted about, and after a time they felt the carriage slowing, so Henry leant out of the window. They had come to a wide cross roads, with a moss covered mile stone that said:
DOVER 123
It seemed like travelling to the moon to the untraveled Club.
“How fast do you think we’re going, Count?” asked Henry, pulling back inside again and suddenly wishing Francis Simpkins was there instead of Armande. “At this rate we won’t even be at the Night Watch til the early hours. At least no one knows about us.”
They went on again, wondering if they would catch up with Juliette, as the three Pimpernels passed fields and little hamlets, villages, pleasant streams and a countryside mostly at peace with itself in the sticky summer heat, untroubled by the bloody Revolution raging for four years across the sea in France, although with many signs that England too was mobilizing for war now.
It was not until mid-morning when Skipper Holmwood suddenly cried out though - “Look out, yoose.”
The boys both looked out, and to their horror, along the road to the West, came five men on horseback, travelling fast. Henry recognised their bright red coats: They were soldiers.
Were they following the Pimpernel Club though, wondered Hal, and if so, how did they ever know?
Skipper slowed the coach and a major, by the pips on his bright red jacket, came alongside the window at a trot, surprised to see two young lads inside, and looking as if butter would not melt in their young mouths.
“Mornin’, boys,” he grunted, “I’m Major Bishop of the 3 rd Dover Regiment. What are you lads doing travelling out here, on your own?”
“Going back to school, Sir,” answered Hal immediately, blushing slightly, “With this illness in London, Sir, er, our parents thought it safer to study by the sea.”
Armande frowned, when Henry added quickly: “St Hilyards. My little sister’s got the cholera, Sir, so they sent us on ahead. Just to be safe.”
“And I’m sorry indeed to hear it,” cried Major Bishop, noticing Armande’s over fine attire and Hal’s black eye and sitting back a little in his saddle, since the cholera was so feared. “But the road’s not safe, lads. Soldiers can’t be spared to patrol it, with the Devil loose in France, so travellers are easy game now, for Highwaymen.”
“Highwaymen?” gulped Henry.
“Right, lad, and one’s been working this very route, for months. He’ll hang when we catch up with him though. I’ll string him up myself.”
“You’re looking for him now, Sir?” asked Henry nervously.
“No fear, boy, we’ve other quarry now,” said the Major shortly, “There’s word of Frenchie spies abroad too. A farmer heard them talking and rode to raise the alarm.”
The two Pimpernels glanced sharply at each other and Count Armande seemed about to blurt something out, when Henry flashed the French lad a stern warning look. His Frenchie accent would give them both away.
Henry felt guilty though and wondered if he should not alert the adults immediately: The Authorities. What stopped him sharp was Juliette’s accusation of cowardice, what they were doing now, but above all their secret oath to the Club: The sacred oath.
“And we’d better be riding on,” said the major suddenly, “Don’t dawdle for a moment, lads, and get that eye seen to soon. We’ll wish you good day then, boys. Go on there, Henrietta.”
The major tapped his horses flanks gently yet the horse gave a furious whinny and almost reared as, to the boys’ astonishment, the major went galloping off on Henrietta, with a loud ‘ Woaw there, girl ’.
Something had struck her flanks and startled the horse into a frantic gallop, soon followed by the major’s men.
“ Slow, Henrietta, ” he bellowed. “ Slow there.”
“Phew,” gulped Henry, thinking he could hear a faint banging from
Similar Books
