A White Face And A Black Mask. By The Author Of "The Buccaneers,"  "The King’s Highway," &c. Reynolds’s  Miscellany. Volume 37, Number 942. Saturday, June 30, 1866.
Chapter V.
Charles Stuart’s Cameo Ring.
That draught made Claude Night alter his mind.
No; he would make one desperate effort for life - hopeless, he might almost call it, but it savoured of the adventuresome life he loved, and that was enough for him.
He would pay a visit to the Duchess of Portsmouth, and see if there was any hope, through her influence with the King, of getting respited.
He had already sent to ask her to go and bid him farewell, but that was all; for in spite of the old love passages between them, Claude had no confidence in her friendship.
She was wearied of him, and aspired now to higher lovers than such as he.
However, it was the only scheme that presented itself; and quick to act as to think, the highwayman proceeded at once to put it into practice.
On his way to the river to take a boat, he happened to pass down a more than usually dark and narrow alley - an alley that, even for those times, was of  a singularly cut-throat aspect; and aware that though his purse was absent, his dress betokened him a gentleman, he took the precaution of putting his hand on the large pistol which he had provided himself with after the duel.
And well he did so; for suddenly, as he passed by the narrowest part, he was seized from behind by hands as powerful as his own.
"Hulloa! there, fellow!" and he roared out an oath in the night stillness which belonged particularly to those times.
He was preparing to wrench himself free, and use his fire-arms, struggling with a power which was almost gigantic, when to his surprise, he was suddenly released, a low, thick voice exclaimed, "Hist, Murdon ! we’ve bagged the wrong game !- off !" and the noise of footsteps rapidly tramping away over the stones warned him that the robbers, whoever they were, were making off.
To pursue them in that dark alley would have been foolhardy and useless; but nevertheless, Claude stood listening to their retreating footsteps with fervent desires to have the chance of giving them a thrashing.
He had not been able to catch a glimpse of either of their faces; but his ear was particularly acute, and it seemed to him that he recognized the thick, low voice which had spoken.
He felt certain he had not heard it at any very long length of time, either.
A little puzzled , he reflected, and then the memory of the ill-favoured knaves at Moll’s hostel suddenly flashed across his mind.
Why, he scarcely knew, but the impulse seized him to pass into a corner made by a projecting door-arch, and see if by any chance he should hear any more of them.
For his curiosity was roused, and besides, it was natural to his old habits to follow up chance adventure, and he seemed to fall into it without hesitation.
He even waited patiently a whole quarter of an hour, and then he was rewarded, for the moon, which had been slowly rising, now reached a point where her light was serviceable in this alley, and by it he just saw two shadows creep quickly across, and take shelter on the other side of the very wall by which he was standing.
"By all the saints in Paradise !" he thought, with an inward chuckle. "the scoundrel cut-throats have put their hides in danger ! I warrant me, their tongues will soon betray them!"
Claude was right in his conjecture.
They had not been there two minutes before the thick, low voice said, "It is late - yet the Earl told me ‘twixt three and four. He was to sup with the Duchess of Portsmouth, and then he’d be sure to come up by here to old Judith’s."
"Ay," returned a younger voice; "but who was ever sure of a Stuart’s movements - the Popish tyrant’s Mr. Oates was right when -"
"S’death, man ! quote not that sneaking son of Satan to me ! Popery or no Popery, I want money ! I’d take Charles’s as I take the Earl’s !"
"Hush ! those were footsteps ! Saw you which way that fellow went whom we set on by mistake ?"
"S’death, not I ! To the river or the devil, I suppose; but - yes, there are shadows coming - be ready ! It’s only Blood with him."
Not a word of the dialogue was lost on Claude’s listening ear, and in an instant he understood their meaning.
Plots of all dimensions, degrees, and importance's were rife then; parties were so numerous, the discontent and distrust so general, that treason was what one might stumble over in every corner of the street and at every moment of the day.
They were hired assassins , too, but evidently in no very powerful noble’s pay, or the plot would have been more carefully planned.
Claude was not particularly attached to the royal party; in fact he was not an admirer of Charles; but for all of that, the idea of his assassination filled him with horror, and all thought of his own singular and terrible position left his mind, as he vowed to do his best to prevent it.
He was scantily armed, but he was powerful, and though two of the men he knew to be equally so, he would not have been afraid to undertake them both in a struggle.
Meanwhile, however, the villains were silent; and by the light of the moon Claude saw that their observation was correct;- silently, but surely, two shadows were advancing from the river up the street.
When they were within some twenty yards, however, and Claude could distinguish the slighter person of the King from his larger and more powerful companion, they suddenly stopped, and Blood, putting his hand to his side, as if missing something, ran back.
"Heaven helps us, you see !" murmured the voice on the other side of the walk.
"Hush, fool !" was the rejoinder.
The King looked after his companion for a moment, then, humming a snatch of a drinking song, came slowly on.
His face was not visible under the shadow of the plumed hat, but from all he knew of the royal mien and person, Claude felt certain it was he.
He felt his heart’s pulsations quicken a little.
The King advanced still.
If he had only waited for the return of his powerful companion, the highwayman would have looked upon the coming struggle as a mere joke; but instead of waiting, Charles hastened a little; and then, to his dismay, in the opposite direction suddenly appeared a man whose dress was strangely like those of the two assassins.
Could it be that the party was in greater force than he had first thought ?
But before he could answer that, there was a shout, and in an instant he saw the King between the two men, whose short daggers were gleaming in the moonlight.
"What ho ! ruffians ! Help ! I am the King !" cried Charles, wrenching out his sword and parrying one blow.
"Ho ! to the rescue !" echoed powerfully through the night air, as Claude, drawing his sword, leapt out and put himself before the King.
But instead of drawing assistance, three other ruffians sprang from various places of concealment, and with bludgeons and daggers joined the attack.
They were six to two !
"To the wall, my liege - to the wall ! We can beat them down there !" cried Claude, backing as he spoke and cutting down one who, with well-poised dagger was aiming at the King’s side.
At the same moment Charles settled another.
The other four however, fought desperately and it was as much as Claude could do to ward off the blows oft directed at Charles.
"Again !" Night’s powerful voice rung out, "To the rescue !" and again he laid another of the villain’s senseless on the ground, but the pay must have been high, for even then the rest returned to the charge.
Wounds were beginning to be received in earnest and even Claude was growing fearful of the result, when, by another lucky and well-planted blow with his powerful fist, he laid the thick-voiced man senseless beside his two companions.
That seemed to end the battle. The remaining robbers, with one accord, fled.
"Fore gad, but you are a right gallant fellow !" said the King, leaning against the wall, quite gasping from his late exertions. "If it had not been for that mighty fist of yours, the Popish priests would have to sing Te Deum, I verily believe !"
"I am glad to have arrived so aptly," said Claude simply. "These rascals must have been watching for some time. Is your Majesty harmed at all ?"
"Just a scratch across my hand, which I’ll get bandaged at once. You’ll come with me, my brave comrade, and examine your wounds too, over a cup of Burgundy ! Fore, gad ! I feel stiff as a dead abbot.
Claude had heard a good deal of the dashing King, but even he was a little surprised at the perfect sang froid with which he looked about on the senseless forms of the three men lying there in the moonlight, and seemed at once to get over the combat which had threatened to be so serious.
"We’ll leave this carrion for the watch to find. The poor devil’s have been bought to do the deed, I’ll warrant me !"
"More the dastards, they!" returned the highwayman indignantly. "I can forgive a man for committing murder on his own account, but to do it at the paid command of another, it is worse than cowardly !"
"Well spoken, gallant friend - though methinks your sentiments smirk slightly of the freebooter ! But let’s hence. I was on my way to keep an appointment. Will you bear me company?"
"I certainly won’t leave your Majesty until you are in safer quarters than this cut-throat lane; but I have my business, which, alack for me, can’t be put off at will; and by your Majesty’s leave, I must after it."
"Well, then, tell me your name; and at some future time Charles of England shall prove that whatever other virtues he lacks, ingratitude is not among them."
Claude hesitated.
It was on his lips to tell out who he was, and entreat the royal clemency.
"Your Majesty -" he began, but at that very moment the figure of Colonel Blood appeared a few yards off and with his usual carelessness, Charles turned hastily away and went to meet him, beginning an account of the affray in his own peculiar, cool manner.
"Stuart fickleness !" muttered the highwayman, bitterly. "No, I’ll none of it, besides -"
At that instant, however, the King returned.
"Come to Whitehall, my gallant deliverer; - or stop ! - take this ring, and whenever you want Charles Stuart to do you a favour in return for this night’s work, send it to him !"
With a touch of veritable heartiness, the King grasped Claude’s hand as he spoke, leaving in it a small cameo ring, and, before he could reply, turned back and was gone.
End of Chapter V.