Kitabı oku: «Lady Maude's Mania», sayfa 12
Very shortly after, Maude rose, bowed to Sir Grantley, and left the room with Tryphie, when the baronet crossed to Lady Barmouth’s side, and was soon engaged in a most interesting conversation, whose murmur sent Lord Barmouth into a pleasant slumber, out of sight in a lounging chair, where he was quite forgotten, when her ladyship suggested that Sir Grantley should go with her to her boudoir to see the last new presents sent in for Maude.
“And you would like to wash your hands, too, before dinner,” said her ladyship. “We will not trouble about dressing to-night.”
Sir Grantley opened the door, and the old gentleman was left alone to wake up about a quarter of an hour later to find it was dark, and sit up rubbing his leg.
“Oh, damme, my leg,” he said, softly. “Where – where are they all gone? Why it’s – it’s past dinnertime,” he said, looking at his watch by the dim light. “I shall be doosed glad when everybody’s married and – and – and – why the doose doesn’t the dressing-bell ring? Heigh – oh – ha – hum!” he added, yawning. “There’s – there’s – there’s another of those abominable organs. I – I – I wish that all the set of them were at the bottom of the sea, for I lie at night with all their tunes coming back again, and seeming to grind themselves to fit the pains in my leg. Poor girl! she was always encouraging the fellows. Why dear me! Damme, haven’t I got a single sixpence left to give him, to go away. No, that I haven’t,” he continued fumbling, “not a sou. She – she – she does keep me short,” he muttered, opening the French window and looking out. “Oh, he’s done playing now, so I shan’t want the money. Why eh – eh – eh? Why – he – he, he! the fellow’s talking to one of the maids. He – he – he! Hi – hi – hi! They will do it. I – I – I was a devil of a fellow amongst the girls when I was a young man; but now – oh, dear, oh dear! this wind seems to give me tortures, that it does.”
He closed the window, but stood looking out.
“You’d better take care, you two, that my lady don’t catch you, or there’ll be such a devil of a row. He’s – he’s going down into the area. Well, well, well, I shan’t tell tales. He – he – he! Hi – hi – hi!” he chuckled, sitting down and nursing his leg. “I remember when I was about twenty, and Dick Jerrard and I – he’s Lord Marrowby now, and a sober judge! – when we got over the wall at a boarding-school to see pretty Miss Vulliamy. Oh, dear, dear, dear, those were days. They preach and talk a deal now about being wicked, but it was very nice. I used to be a devil of a wicked fellow when I was young, and – and flirted terribly, while lately I’ve been as good as gold, and, damme, I haven’t been half so happy.”
He stopped rubbing his leg for a while.
“Everything’s at sixes and sevens, damme, that it is. I’m nearly famished, that I am. If it hadn’t been for that bit of chicken I should have been quite starved. Her ladyship’s too bad, that she is. Cold boiled sole, rice pudding, and half a glass of hock in a tumbler of water. I can’t stand it, that I can’t. Damme, I’ll make a good dinner to-night, that I will, if I die for it. I’ll – I’ll – I’ll, damme, I’ll kick over the traces for once in a way. Tom will help me, I know. He’s a good boy, Tom is, and he’ll see that I have a glass of port, and – damme, where’s Maude and her ladyship, and why isn’t dinner ready? and – eh – what? – what the devil’s that. There’s something wrong.”
For at that moment a piercing shriek rang through the house, and there was the sound of a heavy fall upon the floor.
Chapter Twenty Three.
Tom Diphoos stays out Late
“Half thought I should have seen Charley Melton here; perhaps he has started for Italy after all,” said Tom, who had gone straight to Barker’s and engaged in a game of pool. “Might have stirred him up, but he don’t seem to mind it a bit. Well, no wonder, seeing how he was treated.”
“Red upon white; yellow’s your player,” said the marker, and Tom went up to make the stroke required of him; then he turned once more to glance at the table next to him, and watched two or three of the bets made.
“Past ten,” he said to himself, glancing at his watch. “That’s getting back to dinner. Never mind, I’m not the party wanted by her ladyship. Charley must have known she was to be married to-morrow. I liked him too,” he said, gazing at the players. “He’s a big, strong, noble-looking fellow. Ah, well! I suppose that’s because I’m little. One mustn’t go by outside appearances. Perhaps it’s all for the best.”
Just then a friend proposed that they should drop in at one of the theatres and see the new burlesque; and after a little hesitation Tom consented to go. After this a kidney had to be eaten at a tavern; so that it was one o’clock when he reached home, to find the lights burning, and a cluster of servants in the hall.
“Hallo, Robbins, what’s up? House on fire?” he cried, as the butler admitted him, looking very solemn and troubled.
“No, my lord. Oh, dear no.”
“Don’t be an old image. What is it? Sir Grantley had a fit?”
“My young lady, my lord,” said the butler in a solemn, mysterious whisper.
“Not ill – not ill?” cried Tom, excitedly.
“No, my lord,” said the butler, “not ill, but – ”
“Confound you, you great pump. Speak out,” cried Tom, angrily.
“Gone, my lord – been missing hours. Her ladyship has been having fit after fit, and his lordship is ’most beside himself.”
“Bolted!” exclaimed Tom; and, running into the dining-room, he threw himself into a chair and laughed till his sides ached.
“Poor Wilters! oh, Lord, what a game! Cut! – skimmed!”
He got up, and stamped round the room in the very ecstasy of delight, “The little smug hypocrite!” he said. “That’s why she was so sanctified and sad to-day. Well, bless her, I like her pluck. Sold, my lady, sold!”
He suddenly woke up to the fact that he ought to go upstairs, and, turning serious, he walked into the hall.
“Where’s her ladyship, Robbins?” he asked.
“Upstairs, my lord.”
“Where’s Sir Grantley?”
“Went out, my lord, about ten, to find that tail, straight man, sir, as came – Mr Hurkle.”
“And he hasn’t found him?”
“No, my lord, I s’pose not.”
“Good job too,” said Tom, shortly, and running upstairs he entered the drawing-room so suddenly that her ladyship, who was lying upon a sofa, being fanned by Tryphie, began to shriek.
“There, don’t make that row, mother,” said Tom, coarsely. “Hang it all, what a smell of lavender!”
“Is that you, Tom?” sobbed her ladyship, as Justine came in with a bottle of hot water to apply to her mistress’ feet.
“I suppose so, unless I was changed at my birth,” he said, laughing at Tryphie, and then giving his father a free-and-easy nod. “Spirits and water – internal and ex.”
“Oh, my boy, your wicked, wicked sister!” sobbed her ladyship.
“Serve you right,” said Tom.
“Such a wanton disgrace to her family.”
“Of course,” said Tom.
“I shall never get over it.”
“Shouldn’t have tried to make the poor girl marry a man that she did not care a curse for.”
“Oh, but, Tom, Tom!” sobbed Tryphie, “this is too dreadful.”
“Stuff!” cried Tom. “I’ll be bound to say that you were in the secret.”
“Indeed, no,” cried Tryphie, reproachfully. “I did not know a word. I had left her in her room, as I thought, to dress, and when I went to fetch her because dinner was waiting she was gone.”
“Tell him, Justine, for mercy’s sake tell him,” wailed her ladyship.
“Yes, poor milady, I will,” said the Frenchwoman. “Miss Tryphie knocked many time, and I ascend the stairs then, and she say she begin to be alarmed that mademoiselle was ill. We enter then togezzer, and we find – ”
“Nothing,” said Tom, coolly.
“Oh, no, monsieur, all her beautiful dresses, ze trousseau magnifique, lying about the room, but she is not there. Then I recollect that I see somebody pass down ze stair, in a black cloak and veil, but I take no notice then, though I think now it must have been my young lady.”
“But you knew she was going,” said Tom, gazing straight into her eyes, which only shone a little brighter, for they did not shrink.
“I know, monsieur?” she replied. “I know, I come straight to tell milady of ze outrage against ze honour of her family. Parole d’honneur no, I know nozing as ze lil bébé which come not to be born.”
This was said at a tremendous pace, and with a very strong French accent, for, as Mademoiselle Justine grew excited, so did she forget her good English, and began to return towards the language of the land of her birth.
“What’s been done?” said Tom, shortly.
“Aunt sent directly for Mr Hurkle, and then Sir Grantley went after him as well.”
“Curse Mr Hurkle,” cried Tom, and he hurried out of the room, and dashed, two steps at a time, downstairs, and nearly tumbled over one of the footmen, who looked quite scared.
“You’re always in the way,” cried Tom, savagely, and he dashed into the library, where he found Lord Barmouth busy with trembling hands examining a very old pair of flintlock duelling pistols.
“Hallo, dad!” cried Tom, “none of that. You’re not tired of life?”
“No, no, my son,” said the old gentleman; “damme, no, Tom, though it does get very hard sometimes. Tom, my boy, I’m going to find him out and shoot him.”
Tom slammed down the lid of the case, and pushed the old gentleman unresistingly back into an easy-chair.
“Now, look here, gov’nor, let’s talk sense,” he cried.
“Yes, my dear boy, I – I – I’m doosed glad you’ve come. We will – we will.”
“It’s true then, gov’nor, that poor Maude has bolted?”
“Well, yes, my boy, I don’t think there’s a doubt about it.”
“Then that’s all your fault, gov’nor,” said Tom.
“My dear boy, don’t you turn upon me and bully me too. I – I – I’ve lost my poor little girl, and I – I – I can’t bear much. It’s such a disgrace. I know I ought to have stood up for her more, Tom, my boy, but her ladyship is so very strong-minded, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” said Tom. “She was too much for both of us, gov’nor. Well, it’s no use to fret about it that I see. The little filly’s taken the bit in her teeth, topped the hedge, and away she’s gone. And she so sly over it too!”
“She was very sorry to go, Tom, I’m sure. She was in such trouble to-day.”
“Yes,” said Tom, quietly, “we ought to have suspected something. How about old Wilters?”
“He’s nearly mad, my boy. He has – has – has been running round – round the drawing-room like – like – like – ”
“A cat on hot bricks, father.”
“Yes, my son. He’s furious – he’s going to kill him.”
“Yes, of course,” said Tom, grinning. “I should like to see him do it.”
“But – but – but, Tom, my boy, don’t take it quite so coolly.”
“Why not, father? Hallo? who’s this, eh? Oh, of course,” he said, “here are the women now.”
For her ladyship came in leaning upon Tryphie’s arm, to immediately shriek and fall back in a chair.
“Oh, Tom! oh, Tom,” she cried, “I shall never survive. The disgrace – the disgrace.”
“Nonsense. Here, father, Tryphie, Maude has gone off with Charley Melton, I suppose?”
“No, no, no!” shrieked her ladyship. “Oh, horror, horror, horror!”
“Tryphie, cork her mouth with a handkerchief, or they’ll hear her across the street. Here, father, what’s the row. Charley Melton, eh?”
“No – no – no, my dear boy,” stammered Lord Barmouth, “I – I – I – damme, though her ladyship’s here, I say it in her presence, I wish she had. It’s too dreadful to tell.”
“My God, father!” cried Tom, excitedly, as he turned pale, and the cold sweat stood upon his forehead, for like a flash came upon him the recollection of his sister’s words that day, and brought up such a picture of horror before his eyes, that he trembled like a leaf. “Don’t say – don’t tell me – ”
He could not finish, but stood panting, and gazing at the horror-stricken face of his mother.
“No, my boy, I won’t if you don’t want me to,” said the old man, feebly; “but it’s – it’s – such a terrible disgrace.”
“Father,” faltered Tom, in a hoarse whisper, “has she – has she drowned herself?”
“Oh, no, my boy, no – no – no,” cried the old man, with the tears streaming down his cheeks. “She has eloped under disgraceful circumstances.”
“Not with one of the servants, father?” cried Tom.
“No, no, my boy, worse than that.”
“Hang it, father,” cried Tom, savagely, “there is no worse, without she has gone off with a sweep.”
“Yes, yes, my boy,” cried the old man. “She has gone off with an organ-grinder and a monkey!”
“Which?” roared Tom, seizing the poker; “it isn’t murder to kill an ape.”
“No, no, my boy, it’s the organ man. I saw him from the window to-night. I don’t think there was a monkey.”
Tom threw the poker into the fire-place with a crash, and stared blankly at his mother.
“Oh, Tom! oh, Tom!” she cried, hysterically, “the disgrace! – the disgrace! – the disgrace!”
“I – I – I don’t know what to do,” cried Lord Barmouth. “I can never stand it. It will be all the talk of the clubs. It’s – it’s – it’s – ”
“It’s all damned nonsense, father!” cried Tom; “my sister isn’t such a fool.”
Chapter Twenty Four.
Tom assumes Command
Ten minutes after Tom was busy trying to obtain some further information, after seeing his father comfortably settled down in the study with a good cigar and a pint bottle of port.
“May – may I have ’em, Tom, my boy?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, old gentleman,” said Tom. “Mamma really is ill now, and won’t interfere, and if it gives you a few twinges of the gout, hang it all, it will be a counter irritant.”
This was after Lady Barmouth had been assisted off to bed.
“Hold up, my little lassie,” Tom said, pressing Tryphie’s hand. “Hang me if you aren’t the only one left with a head upon your shoulders. You must help me all you can.”
“I will, Tom,” she said, returning the pressure; and he felt that any one else’s pretensions from that moment were cast to the winds.
“One moment,” whispered Tom, as Lady Barmouth was moaning on the stairs, half-way up the first flight of which she was seated, with her head resting on Justine’s shoulder. “You think there’s no mistake – Maude has bolted?”
“Yes, I have been to her room, and she has taken her little Russia bag.”
“But you don’t believe this absurd nonsense that they have got hold of?”
“I can’t, Tom,” she said; “but she has been very strange in her ways for some time past.”
“Enough to make her,” said Tom. “The old lady would drive me mad if she had her own way with me. There, be off and get her upstairs to bed while I see what’s to be done.”
Tryphie went up, and Tom entered the dining-room, developing an amount of firmness and authority that startled the butler into a state of abnormal activity.
“Now, Robbins,” he said, “look here: of course you know this absurd statement that has been going round the house, and that it’s all nonsense.”
“Well, my lord,” said, the butler, “Lady Maude has encouraged that sort of man about the place lately.”
“Confound you for a big pompous, out-of-livery fool!” cried Tom, bringing his hand down with a crash upon the table. “There, fetch all the servants in, quick.”
Robbins stared, and felt disposed to give notice to leave upon the spot, but Tom’s way mastered him, and, feeling “all of a work,” as he confided afterwards to the cook, he hurried out, and soon after the whole staff was assembled in the dining-room, Justine having been fetched from her ladyship’s side.
“Now then,” cried Tom, opening his informal court. “Who knows anything about this?”
“Please, m’lord,” said Henry, the snub-nosed little foot page, florid with buttons, and fat from stolen sweets, “I see a man playing the organ outside to-night.”
“So you did yesterday, and the day before.”
“Yes, m’lord,” said the boy, eagerly; “and I heard somebody go out.”
“Did you?” said Tom, politely. “Now, look here, my boy! If you dare to open that mouth of yours and get chattering to people this monstrous piece of nonsense, I’ll – I’ll, hang me, I’ll cut your ears off.”
The boy ducked and held one arm up, as if he expected to be attacked at once, and ended by taking refuge behind his best friend and greatest enemy – to wit, the cook.
“Speak, some of you, will you?” cried Tom. “Did any one see my sister go out?”
“If you please, my lord,” said the housemaid, “if I may make so bold – ”
“Yes,” said Tom, with sarcastic politeness, “you may make so bold. Now go on.”
“Well, I’m sure,” muttered the woman. “Well, my lord, I was going upstairs to-night, and I heard my young mistress sobbing bitterly in her room.”
“Well,” said Tom, “and you stopped to listen.”
“Which I wouldn’t bemean myself to do anything of the kind,” said the woman with a toss of the head; “but certainly she was crying, and soon after I was a-leaning out of the second floor window, it being very ’ot indoors, as we’ve been a good deal ’arrissed lately by her ladyship.”
“Go on,” cried Tom, impatiently.
“Which I am, my lord, as fast as I can,” cried the woman; “and there was that tall handsome Italian gentleman, as cook thinks is a furrin’ nobleman in disguise, playing on his hinstrument.”
“Yes,” said Tom, sarcastically.
“And all of a sudden he stops, and I see him go into the portico.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Tom.
“And then there was a lot of whispering.”
“Yes, yes,” said Tom; “oh, yes, of course.”
“And that’s all, my lord, only my young mistress wasn’t in the room when I came back.”
“Now then, all of you,” cried Tom, “once for all, this absurd rumour is one of the most ridiculous – What’s that you say?” he cried sharply, as he heard a whisper.
“I was saying to Ma’amselle Justine that my young lady was always encouraging them men about, my lord,” said the housemaid, “and that if I’d been one of the spying sort I might have seen her.”
“Poor thing,” said the cook, loudly. “She has been drove to it. I have a heart of my own.”
“Silence!” roared Tom. “How dare you? Here, has any one else got anything to say? You? Oh yes, you are my sister’s maid.”
“Yes, my lord,” said Dolly Preen, spitefully.
“Well, what do you know?”
“I know that my mistress was always listening at first to that dreadful Italian,” said Dolly.
“No, no – you, you,” cried Justine.
“I fought against it, and mastered it,” said Dolly proudly; “Lady Maude found it too much, I suppose.”
“Well, I never!” ejaculated Mrs Downes.
“Go on,” cried Tom.
“And then she got to dropping notes to him out of the window, my lord.”
“It isn’t true,” cried Tom. “Woman, you ought to be turned out of the house.”
“Oh, it’s true, though,” said Mrs Downes.
“Silence, you silly old meat murdress,” raged Tom.
“Meat what?” cried the cook. “There are times, my lord, when one must speak. I’ve seen a deal in my time, and there’s no doubt about it. We’re all very sorry for you, but we all knows that my young lady’s been drove to go away with that dark young man.”
“It is not true,” said a sharp voice; and Justine stepped forward to the table, with her dark eyes flashing, her white teeth set, so that she cut the words as they came through, and in her excitement and championship of her young mistress becoming exceedingly French. “I say it is not true. You canaille you, vis your silly talk about ze organiste. It is all a lie – a great lie to say such vicked, cruel thing of my dear young lady. Ah, bah! that for you all,” she cried, snapping her fingers, “you big silly fool, all the whole. What, my young mistress go to degrade herself vis one evasion, comme ça! She could it not do. Sare, I am angry – it make me folle to hear you talk. I say it is not true.”
“Damme, you’re a trump, Justine,” cried Tom, excitedly, as he caught her hand and wrung it. “You are right. She would not degrade herself like that.”
“They are so stupide.”
“Yes,” cried Tom; “and mind this – any one who dares to put about such a disgraceful scandal – hallo! who’s this?”
There was a loud ring just then, and the butler looked in a scared way at Tom.
“Well, go and open it,” he said.
The next minute there were voices and steps heard in the hall, and directly after Sir Grantley Wilters came in, followed by a policeman, and a ragged, dirty looking little man, whose toes peeped out in rows from his boots, and who held in his hand a very battered brimless hat, which he kept rubbing when he was not engaged in pulling his forelock to first one servant and then another.
“Oh, here you are,” said Tom, sharply, as the baronet advanced. “She’s gone off with Melton, hasn’t she?”
“N-no,” said the bridegroom elect, dejectedly. “I believe it’s as they say.”
“Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for,” said Tom, sharply. “Now then, what do you know about it?” he cried to the policeman. “But stop a moment. Here, the whole pack of you, clear out. And mind this – Mademoiselle Justine is right. Thank you, Justine. Go to her ladyship now. I shan’t forget this.”
The Frenchwoman bowed and smiled, and drew her skirts aside as she swept out of the room, while the rest of the servants shuffled out in an awkward fashion, as if every one was eager not to be the last.
“Now then,” cried Tom to the policeman, as the baronet went to the chimney-piece to rest his head upon his hand, “why are you come?”
“This gentleman, sir,” said the constable, nodding his head at Sir Grantley, “asked me to take up the case. Been investigating, and I’ve got some evidence.”
“What is it?” cried Tom.
The constable led the way into the hall, where there was a rush, for the servants had been standing gazing at something near the door.
“Well?” said Tom.
“Thought I’d take a look round, sir,” said the constable, “to see if there was anything in the way of a clue, and I found this.”
He pointed to an oblong chest, covered with green baize, and with a couple of broad leather straps across it.
“Well, it’s an organ,” said Tom.
“Yes, sir,” said the constable nodding. “That’s just about what it is.”
Tom stared at the man, and the man stared at Tom, and then they returned to the dining-room.
“Where was it?” said Tom shortly.
“Just underneath the area steps, sir, close agin the dust-bin,” said the constable.
“Ought to have been in it,” cried Tom, sharply. “Now, who’s this fellow?”
The ragged man, who had been standing on one leg with the foot of the other against his knee, looking like a dilapidated crane, put his foot down and began to make tugs at his hair.
“Beg parding, sir, on’y a poor man, sir. Been pickin’ up a job or two, fetching up kebs and kerridges, sir – party, sir, over at three ’undred and nine, sir. I was a waitin’ about afore the swells began to come, when I sees a big tall man a-hangin’ about, lookin’ as if there was something on, so I goes into the doorway lower down and watches on him.”
“Had he got an organ with him?” said Tom excitedly.
“I heerd one a-playin’ just before, sir, and then I see him a-leaning agin the hairy railings, and arter a bit he seemed to chuck somethin’ up agin the winder and then walks off.”
“Well, go on, my man,” said Tom, eagerly.
“Then I didn’t think no more on it, sir, till all at once I sees a hansom come up and stop at the corner, and this same chap gets out, and that made me feel wild-like and take notice, ’cause it seemed as if I ought to have looked out sharper, and got the job.”
“All right; go on,” cried Tom.
“Well, sir, then he goes away and the keb waits and he walks by this here house, and begins whistling this chune as I’ve often heerd them orgin grinders play.”
The man sucked in his cheeks, and whistled three or four bars of the prison song in Trovatore.
“Then, as I kep my hye on him, I sees the front door open quietly, and a lady come out in a long cloak; and she seemed as if she was a-goin’ to faint away, but he kitches her tight, and half runs her along to wheer the keb was a-standin’, and I was ready for him this time, holding my arm over the wheel so as to keep the lady’s dress outer the mud.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Tom, for the man, who had kept on polishing his hat, dropped it and picked it up hastily, to begin repolishing it.
“Well, sir, she was a-cryin’ like one o’clock – in highsteriks like – and he says something to her in a furren languidge, and then, as she gets in he says, ‘Take keer,’ he says, called her by her name, like.”
“Name? What name?” cried Tom, eagerly.
“Well, you see, gov’nor, it sounded like Bella Meer, or Mee-her. ‘Take keer; Bella Mee-her,’ he says just like that.”
“Bella mia,” muttered Tom.
“Yes, sir, that’s it, sir; that were the young lady’s name; and then he jumps in, and I shoves down the apron, and he pokes the trap-door open, and away they goes down the Place like one o’clock.”
“Well?” said Tom.
“That’s about all, gov’nor,” said the man, looking into his dilapidated hat, and then lifting and peeping inside the lining, as if he expected to find some more there.
“No, it ain’t,” said the constable, “come now. He give you something, didn’t he?”
“Well, s’pose he did,” said the man, sulkily; “that ain’t got nothing to do with it, ’ave it? The gent don’t want to rob a pore man of his ’ard earnin’s, do he?”
“What did he give you, my man?” said Tom, eagerly, “There, there, show me. Not that it matters.”
“Yes, sir, excuse me, but it does matter,” said the constable. “Now then, out with it.”
The man thrust his hand very unwillingly into his pocket, and brought out what looked like a small shilling, which was eagerly snatched by Tom.
“Vittoria Emanuele – Lira. Why, constable, it’s an Italian piece!”
“That’s so, sir,” said the constable.
“There, be off with you; there’s half a crown for you,” said Tom. “Constable,” he cried, as the latter closed the door on the walking rag-bag, “quick, not a moment to be lost. That cabman’s number, and as soon as you can.”
“Right, sir; that’s first job,” said the constable. “You’ll be here?”
“Yes, till you come back. Spare no expense to get that number.”
The constable was off almost before the words had left his lips, and as the door closed Tom turned to Sir Grantley, who still stood with his head leaning upon his hand.
“Now then,” he said, “what are you going to do?”
“Don’t know,” was the reply.
“It looks bad,” said Tom, “but I won’t believe it yet.”
“No – poor girl,” said the baronet, sadly – “I’m beginning to think she didn’t care for me, don’t you know.”
Tom stared at him wonderingly.
“Are you going to help me run them down?”
“Yas – no – I don’t know,” said the baronet. “I suppose I ought to shoot that fellow – Belgium or somewhere – if there is a fellow. But I don’t think there is.”
“You don’t?” said Tom.
“No,” said the baronet, slowly.
“But you heard? She must have gone off with somebody. You know what the people think. If it is so, she must be saved at all costs.”
“Yas – of course,” said the baronet, slowly; “but – don’t think it. Poor girl, she was a lady – she couldn’t stoop to it – no – couldn’t – she’d sooner have married me.”
“Wilters,” said Tom, holding out his hand and speaking huskily, “thank you for that. We never liked one another, and I’ve been a confounded cad to you sometimes; but – but – you – you’re a gentleman, Wilters, a true gentleman.”
They shook hands in silence, and then Tom said eagerly —
“You’ll come with me?”
“Yas – no,” said the baronet, quietly. “It’s best not. All been a mistake, poor girl. I’ve been thinking about it all, and it wasn’t likely she’d care for me. Lady Barmouth is very flattering and kind; but I’ve driven your sister away. – I think I’ll go home now.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Tom, quietly.
“It’s very awkward,” continued the baronet, “things have gone so far. But I ought to have known better. Could you – a soda and brandy, Tom – this has shaken me a bit – I’m rather faint.”
The cellaret was open, stimulants having been fetched from it for her ladyship’s use, and Tom hastily poured out some spirit into one of the glasses on the sideboard, and handed it to the baronet.
“Thanks,” he said – “better now; I think I’ll go home;” and bowing quietly to Tom, he slowly left the house.
