April Lady

Chapter Thirteen

Mrs. Thorne’s butler, opening the door to Nell in time to see the hackney which had brought her to Bryanston Square move slowly away, was very much surprised that her ladyship should have deigned to enter such a lowly vehicle, but she had expected that he would be, and told him in the easiest way that her carriage had suffered a slight accident. He seemed satisfied with this explanation, but when she asked for his mistress he was obliged to tell her that Madam had retired to her room to change her dress for dinner.

“Then, if you please, be so good as to ask your mistress if I may go up to her,” said Nell, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for a lady of quality to arrive in a common hackney half-an-hour before dinner-time, wearing a morning-dress, and coolly demanding to be taken up to her hostess’s bedroom. The butler looked doubtful, but he went to deliver this message, returning almost immediately to beg her ladyship to step upstairs.

Mrs. Thorne was seated before her dressing-table, enveloped in a voluminous wrapper, and with her hair only half-pinned up into the elaborate fashion of her choice. She was a stout, goodnatured looking woman, and when she rose to greet Nell she seemed rather to surge out of her chair. “Oh, my dear Lady Cardross, pray come in, and forgive my receiving you in such a way! But I would not keep you waiting while I scrambled on my clothes, and so I told Thomas to bring you to me straightaway.”

“It is very kind of you. I should not be troubling you at such an awkward time,” Nell said, shaking hands. “May I talk privately to you for a few minutes?”

“Oh, my dear! Yes, yes, to be sure you may! Go and see if Miss Fanny is dressed yet, Betty! I will ring for you when I want you back again. Set a chair for her ladyship before you go! Do, pray, be seated, Lady Cardross!” She herself sank back into the chair before the dressing-table, saying, almost before her maid was out of the room: “Tell me at once, my dear! When Thomas came to say that you were below, such a presentiment shot through me! And I can see by your face I was right!”

“I don’t know—I hope not! Mrs. Thorne, has Letty been with you today?”

“Oh, my goodness gracious me!” cried Mrs. Thorne, “if I didn’t know it! No, my dear, I haven’t seen Letty since she visited us last week. Don’t tell me she has gone off with young Allandale! Wait! where are my smelling-salts? Now tell me everything!”

Clutching the vinaigrette, and warding off a series of palpitations by frequently sniffing its aromatic contents, she managed to listen to the story Nell unfolded without succumbing to the various nervous ills which threatened to prostrate her. She was very much shocked, interrupting the tale with groans, and horrified ejaculations, but there was nothing she could do to help Nell, because she knew nothing. She had never encouraged Mr. Allandale: girls liked to flirt, and there was no harm in that; but when she had learnt that Letty considered herself engaged to a young man without a penny to bless himself with, and no prospects worthy to be mentioned, she had never been more upset in her life.

Nell was obliged to break in on her volubility, and to beg that Selina might be sent for. Mrs. Thorne was perfectly agreeable, but she could not think that Selina would be able to throw any light on the mystery of her cousin’s whereabouts. When she was told of the meeting that afternoon in Bond Street, she could scarcely be brought to believe that such a thing could have happened. “Selina going off to Bond Street! Oh, you don’t mean it, Lady Cardross! I never heard of such a thing! To be sure, girls aren’t kept so strict now as they were when I was young—why, not a step outside the house could I take unless my mother, or the governess was with me! And very irksome it was, I can tell you! I made up my mind I wouldn’t use my girls so, and nor I have, but as for letting any of them go jauntering about town without one of her sisters, or Betty, to go with her, that would be quite beyond the line! Good gracious, whatever would people say? It doesn’t bear thinking of, and if I find Martha was telling you the truth, which, however, it’s very likely she wasn’t, I declare Selina shall go to Miss Puttenham’s seminary, say what she will! It was what Mr. Thorne said she should do, when Miss Woodbridge left us, but she pleaded so hard against it—well, there! But that Martha would say anything! Depend upon it, my dear Lady Cardross, Selina knows no more than the man in the moon where her cousin may be!”

But when Selina presently came into the room it was evident even to her fond parent that she knew very well why she had been sent for. She was in fine feather, and perfectly ready to be martyred in her cousin’s cause. Hers had not been the chief role in the delightful drama, but she had been able easily to convince herself that without her self-abnegating offices the interested parties would by this time have been obliged to resign themselves to their equally disagreeable fates. Letty (if she did not go into a decline, and expire within the year) would have been ruthlessly forced into marriage with a titled Midas of evil disposition, at whose hands she would have suffered brutal ill-usage; and Mr. Allandale, unaccountably forgotten by his superiors, would have worn out his life in a foreign land, always carrying his lost love’s likeness next his heart, and dying (in circumstances of distressing neglect and anguish) with her name on his writhen lips.

Until she found herself confronting Nell, of whom she stood in a good deal of awe, this affecting story had seemed to her so probable as to border on the inevitable. She had several times rehearsed the elevating utterances she would make, if called upon to account for her actions; and in these scenes every effort made by Letty’s persecutors to drag from her the secret of her whereabouts failed. Sometimes she remained mute while the storm raged over her devoted head; but in general she was extremely eloquent, expressing herself with such moving sincerity that even such worldly persons as her father and Lord Cardross were often brought to see how false and mercenary were their ideas, and emerged from the encounter with changed hearts, and the highest opinion of her fearlessness, nobility, and good sense.

But in these scenes the other members of the cast spoke the lines laid down for them; in real life they said things so very different as to throw everything quite out of joint. In the event, Selina pronounced only one of her rehearsed speeches. Asked by her mother if she knew what had become of Letty, she clasped her hands at her breast, and declined to answer the question. She then invited the two ladies to threaten her as much as they chose, to do with her what they would; but warned them that they would find it impossible to force her to betray her cousin.

Mrs. Thorne should then have conjured her daughter on her obedience to divulge the truth; instead, and with a lamentable lack of histrionic ability, she begged her irritably not, for goodness sake, to start any of her play-acting; and before Selina could recover from this set-back Nell completed her discomfiture by saying in a tone of grave reproof: “Indeed, Selina, you must not make-believe over this, for I am afraid it is much more serious than you have any idea of.”

After that, there could be no recapturing the dramatic flavour of the piece. Selina did say that she wouldn’t tell anything, but even in her own ears this sounded very much more sulky than noble; and when Mrs. Thorne, heaving herself out of her chair, declared her intention of hailing her immediately before her papa, who would know how to deal with such impertinence, instead of behaving like a heroine, she collapsed into frightened tears.

It took a little time to drag the whole story out of her and the effect of her revelations on Mrs. Thorne was severe enough to make Nell feel profoundly sorry for the poor lady. She was so much stunned by the discovery that when she had believed Selina to have gone under the escort of her maid to a dancing-class, or a music-lesson, that abandoned damsel had been setting forth by stealth for the most fashionable quarter of the town, alone, and for the purpose of aiding and abetting her cousin in conduct that, if it were to become known, would disgrace them both for ever in the eyes of all persons of ton, that she could do nothing but reproach Selina, and wonder how she came to have a daughter so lost to all sense of propriety. It was left to Nell to question Selina, which she did with a gentle coldness that overawed her far more than did her mother’s scoldings.

Letty had sold the necklace to Catworth on the day that she had gone with her cousin to choose a wedding-gift for Fanny. They had dismissed the carriage outside the Pantheon, telling the coachman to call for them at Gunter’s, in Berkeley Square, considerably later in the day. After purchasing a couple of thick veils, they had set out in a hack for Cranbourn Alley, having discovered the existence of the firm of Catworth and Son through the simple expedient of asking the jarvey on the box to recommend them a jeweller not patronized by persons of quality. While Letty had transacted her business with the younger Catworth, Selina had remained in the hack, because the jarvey, when instructed to wait outside the shop, apparently suspecting them of trying to give him the slip, had expressed a strong wish of being paid off then and there.

After the sale of the necklace, only one thing was needed for an elopement, and that was the bridegroom, who was then still out of town.

At this point, Mrs. Thorne exclaimed: “Never tell me Allandale was ready to take her with no more than two thousand pounds!”

“My dear ma’am, you cannot suppose that Mr. Allandale was a party to such a thing!” Nell said.

“No, he wasn’t,” corroborated Selina. “Letty said she would tell him she had it from her godfather, in case he should think she ought not to have taken the necklace.”

The two girls had met that afternoon by prearrangement, and as soon as Martha had been got rid of, which was done because Letty wished, with rare consideration, to protect her from blame, they had purchased such necessities as Letty had been unable to pack in her bundle, and brought them to Bryanston Square, to be bestowed in an old cloak-bag belonging to Papa. Finally, Letty had departed in a hackney for Mr. Allandale’s lodging in Ryder Street. “But you won’t catch them,” Selina said, with a last flicker of defiance, “because that was hours ago, and you may depend upon it they are many miles away by now!”

This seemed all too probable to Mrs. Thorne, sinking back in her chair with a groan of dismay, but Nell was more hopeful. When Selina had been dismissed to bed, with the promise of bread and water for her supper, an interview with Papa on the morrow, and incarceration for an unspecified length of time in a Bath seminary for young ladies, she rose to her feet, saying that she would go at once to Ryder Street.

“But what is the use, my dear?” wailed Mrs. Thorne. “You heard what that wicked child of mine said! They’re off to Gretna Green, depend upon it!”

“I cannot credit it! No doubt that was Letty’s plan, but I shall own myself astonished if it was Mr. Allandale’s. Oh, he would not do such a thing! I am quite confident he would not!”

“Good gracious, Lady Cardross, where else could they go? They couldn’t be married in England, what with Letty’s being under age, and special licenses, and I don’t know what beside! Surely to goodness he wouldn’t have let her run away to him if he didn’t mean to marry her immediately?”

“I don’t believe he knew anything about it,” declared Nell. “Only consider, ma’am! He is a respectable man of superior sense, and with extremely nice notions of propriety. I am persuaded he would not entertain for an instant the thought of eloping with a child of Letty’s age. Her expectations, too! Oh, no, he couldn’t do it! If his own good feeling did not prevent him, the knowledge that he would be thought to have behaved like a most unprincipled fortune-hunter surely would!”

“Ay, there is that,” agreed Mrs. Thorne, a little doubtfully. “He would lose his employment, too, I daresay. But, you know my dear, when a man falls head over ears in love there’s no saying what he may do. And you aren’t going to tell me Letty ran off to elope with him without him knowing she meant to do it!”

“Yes, I am,” Nell said, on a tiny choke of laughter. “It would be exactly like her to do so!”

“Well!” gasped Mrs. Thorne. “Of all the brazen little hussies! A nice surprise it will be for Allandale when he goes home from the Foreign Office, thinking of nothing but his dinner, as I don’t doubt he will be, and finds that naughty girl in his lodging, as bold as brass, and expecting him to set out with her for Scotland! Well, I hope it will be a lesson to him, that’s all! Only, if that’s the way it was, why didn’t he bring her back to you long since?”

“I’ve thought of that,” Nell said. “It does seem strange, but if he were kept late at his work—? Then, too, it would take him a little time, you know, to persuade Letty to give up the scheme. In fact, the likeliest chance is that she fell into one of her hysterical fits of crying, and the poor man could not have the least notion how to stop her! Oh, I must go to Ryder Street at once!”

The conviction that she would arrive at Mr. Allandale’s lodging to find him endeavouring to soothe his would-be bride grew steadily upon Nell as she was bounced and jolted there in yet another hack, and she began to be quite buoyant again, feeling that if she could only restore his sister to Cardross with her reputation unblemished she would have done much to atone for the follies and extravagances of the past weeks. But when the hackney turned out of St. James’s Street into Ryder Street, she suffered a check. The coachman pulled up his aged horse, and clambered down from the box to discover what was the number of the house she wished to visit; and it suddenly occurred to Nell that she did not know it. Nor did the coachman. Asked if he was perhaps familiar with Mr. Allandale, he said he wasn’t one to bother his head over the names of the gentlemen who patronized him, and surveyed his fair passenger with unwelcome interest. She was put a little out of countenance by this, and had, indeed, been feeling a trifle uneasy from the moment the hack turned into St. James’s Street, and she had seen all the clubs’ windows lighted up, and several gentlemen of her acquaintance strolling along the flagway. This quarter of fashionable London, which lay between Pall Mall and Piccadilly, belonged almost exclusively to the Gentlemen, and it was not considered good ton for a lady to be seen within its bounds. Nearly all the clubs were to be found in St. James’s Street; and the streets which led from it abounded in bachelor lodgings and gaming-hells. The coachman was plainly wondering whether he had been mistaken in the social status of his fare, and Nell was beginning to feel rather helpless and extremely uncomfortable when she providentially remembered that Mr. Hethersett also lived in Ryder Street, and would no doubt be able to direct her to Mr. Allandale’s abode, if she were fortunate enough to find him at home. So she told the coachman to drive her to Number 5. It did not seem probable that Mr. Hethersett would be at home, for it was now past eight o’clock, but fortune favoured her. Just as she was searching in her reticule for her purse the door of No. 5 was opened, and Mr. Hethersett himself came out of the house, very natty in knee-breeches and silk stockings, a waistcoat of watered silk, a swallow-tailed coat, and a snowy cravat arranged by his expert hands in the intricate style known as the Mathematical Tie. Set at a slight angle on his oiled locks was an elegant chapeau bras, and hanging from his shoulders was a silk-lined cloak. He carried a pair of gloves in one hand, and an ebony cane in the other, but perceiving the unusual spectacle of a lady engaged in paying off a hackney-coachman at his very door, he transferred the gloves to his right hand so that he could raise one eye the quizzing-glass that was slung about his neck. At just this moment, Nell turned to mount the few steps to his door, and uttered a joyful exclamation. “Felix! Oh, how glad I am to have caught you!”

The jarvey, observing that the expression on Mr. Hethersett’s face was of profound dismay, clicked his tongue disapprovingly. In his view, Nell—as dimber a mort as he had clapped eyes on in a twelvemonth—was worthy of a warmer greeting than the startled: “Good God!” which broke from Mr. Hethersett.

“What the deuce brings you here?” demanded Mr. Hethersett, alarmed out of his usual address. “Cardross hasn’t met with an accident, has he? Or—”

“Oh, no, no! nothing like that!” she assured him. “I shan’t keep you above a moment—are you on your way to a party?—but I have most stupidly forgotten the number of the house Mr. Allandale lodges in!”

Disappointed in this conversation, the jarvey adjured his lethargic steed to get up, and drove slowly off.

“Thank the lord he’s gone!” said Mr. Hethersett. “You know, cousin, you shouldn’t be driving about in a hack, and coming here to ask me for Allandale’s direction! I mean—not my business, but it ain’t at all the thing! Cardross wouldn’t like it. Besides, what do you want with Allandale?”

“Well, that isn’t your business either!” Nell pointed out. “And if Cardross knew I was here he would have not the least objection, I assure you, for I am here for a very sufficient purpose. So will you, if you please, tell me the number of Mr. Allandale’s lodging, and then you may go to your party, and not trouble your head over me any more?”

“No,” said Mr. Hethersett, with unexpected firmness. “I won’t! Well, I should be bound to trouble my head over you: stands to reason! Because it seems to me you’re up to something dashed smoky, cousin. And as for saying Cardross wouldn’t object to your paying calls in a hack at this time of day—well, if that’s what you think, you can’t know him! What I’m going to do is take you home.”

“No, you are not!” said Nell indignantly. “Now, Felix, just because you met me in Clarges Street that day does not give you the right to try to bully and hector me over this!”

“Never mind that!—By the by, I hope all’s right about that business?”

“Yes, yes, Dysart settled it for me.”

“He did, did he?”

“Yes, for he has won a great deal of money on a horse called Cockroach. It was not very handsome of you to have betrayed me to him, however!”

“No, I know it wasn’t. Best thing I could think of, though. What we want now is another hack.”

“No—though I hope it is what I may want in a very little time. I suppose I shall be obliged to tell you what has happened,” she sighed.

“Good God, cousin, do you take me for a flat?” demanded Mr. Hethersett. “If you’re searching all over for Allandale, it means that Letty is up to her tricks. What’s she done? Eloped with the fellow?”

“I very much fear it.”

“Eh?” he said incredulously. “No, no, not the sort of fellow to do a scaly thing like that! I was only funning!”

But when he had heard all that Nell saw fit to tell him of the day’s events he looked a good deal taken aback, and acknowledged that the affair bore all the appearance of an uncommonly rum set-out. “What’s more, if Allandale’s made off with her—yes, but dash it, cousin, that won’t fadge! I mean, it wouldn’t be up to the rig, and though I can’t say I like him above half there’s nothing of the queer nab about him!”

“No, indeed! and that is what makes me very hopeful of finding them still here,” she explained. “So pray will you direct me to the house?”

“Yes, but where’s Cardross?” he demanded. “He can’t have gone out of town again, because I saw him at White’s this afternoon! It’s his business to find Letty, not yours.”

“He—he is dining out tonight, and then, too, he had Sir John Somerby with him, you see.”

“What you mean,” said Mr. Hethersett severely, “is that you haven’t told him.”

“No,” she confessed. “I—I haven’t.”

“Well, you ought to have done so. Very unwilling to offend you, cousin, but you’ve got no right to play the concave suit with Cardross over that chit. Dash it, she’s his ward! Daresay you’re fond of her, but it won’t do to be hoaxing Giles about today’s business.”

“No,” she agreed. “Indeed, I don’t mean to, Felix! Only the thing is that—he—he is very much vexed today. Something occurred that put him sadly out of temper, and I particularly don’t wish to be obliged to break this news to him when—when perhaps he would be quite dreadfully angry with Letty!”

“Good thing if he was!” said Mr. Hethersett unfeelingly. “If you want to know what I think, it’s my belief that the sooner you’re rid of that resty girl the better it will be. Unsteady, that’s what she is. Maggotty, too: never know where to take her, or what she’ll be up to next!” He glanced fleetingly at Nell, but it had grown rather too dark for him to be able to see her face very clearly. However, he had drawn certain conclusions which he was pretty sure were accurate, so he added, in a careless way: “Shouldn’t be surprised if it was her starts that had put him out of temper.”

Nell said nothing in reply to this. The lamplighter was coming down the street, with his ladder carried between him and the boy who followed at his heels. Nell, who was tired of standing outside Mr. Hethersett’s house, pointed this circumstance out to him, saying: “Won’t he think it excessively odd that we should be standing here?”

“Yes, but we ain’t going to stand here,” replied Mr. Hethersett. “It don’t look to me as though Allandale’s at home, but we may as well enquire for him.”

“Do you mean to say that he lives next door to you?” demanded Nell.

“Yes. Well, no reason why he shouldn’t!” said Mr. Hethersett, surprised at the indignant note in her voice. “What I mean is, he don’t trouble me: hardly ever see him!”

“And you have kept me standing outside all this time! It is a great deal too bad of you!” said Nell, treading up the steps to the door, and grasping the heavy brass knocker.

“I was trying to think what I should do with you while I did the trick here. Trouble is there ain’t anywhere for you to go, but you oughtn’t to be asking for Allandale, you know! Leave it to me, cousin!”

She was quite ready to do this, but when the door was opened, and Mr. Hethersett asked the proprietor of the establishment if Mr. Allandale was at home, and was told that he was not, he seemed so much inclined to withdraw without pursuing his enquiries any farther that she felt obliged to intervene. Disregarding a horrified murmur of protest from Mr. Hethersett she boldly asked if Mr. Allandale had gone out alone, or accompanied by a lady.

“Would it be Mr. Allandale’s sister you was referring to, ma’am?” asked the man cautiously.

“Yes,” said Nell, with great promptness.

“Ah!” said the proprietor, stroking his chin in a ruminative way. “That’s what he said, I don’t deny, but it wasn’t what she said, which puts me in a fix, in a manner of speaking, because if it was his sister you was wishful to see I couldn’t say it was her as was here today, not to take my oath on it, I couldn’t. The young party as came here asking for Mr. Allandale told Mrs. Shotwick, which is my good lady, as how she was engaged to be married to him. Which is different.”

“Well, that is the lady I wish to find,” said Nell.

“Ah!” said Mr. Shotwick, still caressing his chin. “I’ve no objection, but the question is, can you, ma’am? Because she ain’t here. Nor hasn’t been, this three hours and more. Which I’m just as glad she hasn’t, on account of all the bobbery there was.”

“Oh, dear!” Nell said, her heart sinking. “What—what sort of bobbery?”

“No, dash it, cousin—!” expostulated Mr. Hethersett, by this time in a state of acute discomfort.

At this point Mr. Shotwick was struck by the happy idea of inviting them to step inside so that they might discuss the delicate matter with the mistress of the establishment. Nell readily agreed to this, Mr. Hethersett not so readily, and they were ushered into Mr. Allandale’s parlour, on the right of the front door, and left there while Mr. Shotwick went off to summon his wife on to the scene.

“Oh, Felix, what can have happened?” Nell said. “Gone for more than three hours! When the man said they were not here I thought at first that perhaps Mr. Allandale had taken Letty home, and I should find her there when I return. But three hours! Where can she be, if they have not eloped together?”

“I don’t know where she can be,” said Mr. Hethersett. “I know where we are, however, and it ain’t where I want to be. I’m dashed sure this fellow knows who I am, and the next thing we shall find is that he’s twigged who you are. It’ll be all over town before the cat’s had time to lick her ear.”

“Well, if you don’t like to be seen in my company, you may go away!” said Nell, with spirit.

“I don’t,” said Mr. Hethersett frankly. “Particularly in this rig, when you ain’t dressed for the evening. Not at all the thing: looks dashed peculiar! We shall have all the quizzes wondering what the deuce we were doing. Can’t tell ‘em we were looking all over for Letty!”

Anxious as she was, she could not help laughing at this. She said mischievously: “It is very bad, but your credit is so good that I am persuaded no one would believe for an instant that you had done anything that was not good ton!”

“Yes, but this is no time for funning, my dear Lady Cardross! Besides, there’s no saying what people will believe. The thing is, we’re going the quickest way to work to get it set about that that wretched girl has gone clean beyond the line. What’s more, Cardross will be as mad as fire with the pair of us for making cakes of ourselves, instead of telling him what had happened.”

She felt that this indeed might be true, but before she could reply Mr. Shotwick had come back, with a stout dame in a mob-cap, whom he introduced as his good lady.

From the somewhat involved story that issued from Mrs. Shotwick’s lips it became apparent that the eruption of Letty into her hitherto ordered existence had disarranged her mind quite as much as it had shaken her faith in her favourite lodger. “For, not to deceive you, ma’am, what to think I did not know, nor don’t!”

Her first impulse, on learning from her spouse that a beautiful young lady, with a cloak-bag, had taken possession of Mr. Allandale’s parlour, with the expressed intention of remaining there until he returned to his lodging, had been to eject so bold a hussy immediately; but when she had sailed into the room to accomplish this desirable object she had suffered a check. She beheld Quality, and one did not turn Quality out of one’s house, however respectable one might be. But she had been on the watch for Mr. Allandale, and she had waylaid him on his entering the house, and had given him to understand that Goings-on under her roof she would not allow. It had struck her forcibly that upon hearing of his betrothed’s presence in his parlour he had looked queer—to put it no higher.

“Queer as Dick’s hatband,” corroborated Mr. Shotwick.

“I should think he dashed well would look queer!” said Mr. Hethersett, impatient of this circumstantial history.

“Ah!” said Mr. Shotwick. “‘Specially if he was trying to tip her the double, which was what we suspicioned, sir.”

“I’ll thank you not to use that nasty cant, Shotwick!” said the wife of his bosom sharply. “No such thought crossed my mind, not then it didn’t!”

“Not till the kick-up started,” agreed Mr. Shotwick. “Lor’, how she did take on! I thought we should have the neighbours in on us.” He shook his head mournfully. “You couldn’t help but compassionate her. But what has me fair flummoxed is the way he slumguzzled us! Because a quieter, nicer-behaved gentleman you couldn’t find, not if you was to look from here to Jericho! But he tipped her the rise, no question!”

“That’ll do!” said his wife. She looked significantly at Nell, and said darkly: “Not a word shall pass my lips with a gentleman present, but I ask you, ma’am, what is anyone to think when a sweet, pretty young thing carries on like she was desperate, and begs and implores a gentleman—if such you can call him!—to marry her?”

“Crying five loaves a penny, in course,” said Mr. Shotwick helpfully.

“Yes, never mind that! What I mean is, no such thing!” intervened Mr. Hethersett, devoutly trusting that this expression was unknown to Nell. Not that there was any chance that she hadn’t understood the gist of Mrs. Shotwick’s remarks: she was looking aghast, as well she might! “All I want to know is, did they leave this house together, and did you hear where they were bound for?”

“That I cannot say,” replied Mrs. Shotwick. “Leave it they did, in a post-chaise and pair.”

“A post-chaise!” Nell echoed, in a hollow voice.

“A post-chaise it was, ma’am, as I saw with my own eyes, and which Mr. Allandale stepped out to bespeak his own self,” nodded Mrs. Shotwick. “And this I will say: whatever he’s done, he means to do right by that poor young thing now, for when I asked him what was to be done he answered me straight out there was only one thing he could do. I don’t say he looked like he wanted to, but he was very resolute—oh, very resolute he was! He didn’t say anything more to me, but turned sharp about and came back into this very room, where Miss was laid down on that sofa, looking that wore out as never was. But what he said to her I don’t know, for he shut the door. All I do know is that whatever it was it had her up off of the sofa in a twinkling, and as happy as a grig! Then he went off to hire a chaise, and Miss called to me to help her pack his valise, and not another tear did she shed!”

“No need to worry about her, then,” said Mr. Hethersett, making the best of a bad business. “I’m much obliged to you!” He then requested Mr. Shotwick to step out in search of a hack, and cast an uneasy glance at Nell. She was looking quite stricken, but, to his relief, she did not speak until Mrs. Shotwick had curtseyed herself out of the room. He said curtly: “Going to take you home. Nothing to be done. Too late. Very scabby conduct of Allandale’s, but I’m bound to say I’m dashed sorry for him!”

“Oh, could he not have brought her back to her home?” Nell cried, wringing her hands.

“Not if she was screeching in hysterics,” said Mr. Hethersett, with considerable feeling. “What’s more, I don’t blame him!”

“I blame myself! If I had told Cardross of my suspicion! He might have been able then to have overtaken them, but now—! I was so certain Mr. Allandale would not—I thought I should be able to set the wretched business to rights, but I have only helped to ruin Letty!”

“Don’t see that at all,” he replied. “Plenty of time for Cardross to catch ‘em, if he wants to. Only travelling with a pair of horses. Wouldn’t make much difference if they had four. Give Cardross his curricle, and four good ‘uns, and I’d back him, over the distance, if they’d had twice as long a start of him. You ever seen Giles with a four-in-hand? Well, he’s top-of-the-trees, give you my word! Knows how to keep strange horses together, too.”

“Oh, do you think they could still be overtaken?” she said eagerly.

“Lord, yes! All we have to do—Now what is it?”

She had uttered a chagrined: “Oh!” and she now said: “Cardross is not at home. He was dining out, and I don’t know where!”

“No need to get into a taking over that,” replied Mr. Hethersett calmly. “Farley will know.”

This made her feel rather more cheerful, and upon Mr. Shotwick’s coming back to announce that a hack was waiting to take them up she started up, begging Mr. Hethersett to make haste.

There was certainly a hack standing in the street: a large and dilapidated vehicle, whose body, hanging drunkenly between two old-fashioned perches, showed by tarnished silverwork, and an almost obliterated coat of arms, that it had descended a long way in the social scale since the days when, with a powdered coachman on the box, and two Knights of the Rainbow standing up behind, it had been the town chariot of a nobleman. It was not at all the kind of carriage any person of fashion would now choose to ride in, but Nell and Mr. Hethersett, emerging from the house, found that their temporary possession of it was not to be undisputed. Two gentlemen were arguing with the jarvey on their right to claim it, and this worthy man had apparently found it necessary to come down from the box to preserve it from invasion.

Mr. Hethersett, after one glance, tried to obscure the scene from Nell’s view, saying tersely: “Better step inside again till I’ve got rid of ‘em!”

“But it’s Dysart!” said Nell.

“Yes, I know it is, but we haven’t any time to stand talking to him!” said Mr. Hethersett.

“No, of course not, but he is trying to hire our hackney, and he must not!” said Nell, trying to push him out of the way.

“For the lord’s sake, cousin, go back into the house!” begged Mr. Hethersett. “He ain’t alone!”

“No, but the other is only Mr. Fancot, and I think” said Nell knowledgeably, “that they are both of them a trifle foxed. Dysart!”

The Viscount, upon hearing himself addressed, turned. The light from the near-by street-lamp enabled him quite plainly to recognize his sister, but he knew better than to trust his eyes when he was (in his own estimation) a little above par. He called upon his companion for assistance. “Corny, that ain’t my sister Cardross, is it?”

“No,” said Mr. Fancot obligingly.

“What a horrid creature you are, Dy!” remarked Nell, descending the steps. “You cannot drive off in that coach, because it was brought for me, and I must have it. I am in the greatest haste, so do, pray, stop disputing with that poor man, and go away!”

“By God, it is my sister Cardross!” exclaimed the Viscount, thunderstruck.

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Fancot, smiling vaguely but with immense affability at Nell.

“Well, there’s no need to shout it all down the street!” said Mr. Hethersett tartly.

The Viscount looked intently at him, while he wrestled silently with a problem. “It’s you, is it?” he said, a certain kindling in his eyes, and a brooding note in his voice. “You, and my sister!”

Mr. Hethersett, who had foreseen from the start that something like this would happen, said soothingly: “Escorting her ladyship home!”

“Oh, you were, were you?” said the Viscount, showing signs of rising choler. “We’ll see that! Because it seems to me—Corny! Where are we?”

“Watier’s,” said Mr. Fancot, after a moment’s thought.

“No, we ain’t!” said his lordship, irritated.

“Going to Watier’s,” amended Mr. Fancot.

“I’ll tell you where we are!” announced the Viscount, in menacing accents. “We’re in Ryder Street!”

“That’s right, sir: Ryder Street it is,” said the jarvey encouragingly. “You don’t want no ‘ack to take you to Watier’s!”

“Ryder Street,” said the Viscount. “Now I know whose house you were coming out of! Now I know what made you take such an uncommon interest in my sister’s affairs! By God, if I don’t cut your liver out for this! As for you, my girl—”

“That’ll do!” interrupted Mr. Hethersett. “You can cut my liver out in the morning, but for the lord’s sake stop making such a damned kick-up in the street!”

“Not liver,” said Mr. Fancot positively, his wandering attention recalled by this word. “Duck. That’s what we said, Dy. Got a way of cooking it at Watier’s I like.”

“Well, you take Dysart there!” recommended Mr. Hethersett.

‘E can take him, but ‘e won’t never get ‘im past the porter, guv’nor, not as lushy as what they both are!” observed the jarvey sapiently.

“Yes, I will,” said Mr. Fancot. “It’s my birthday.”

“Get into the hack!” Mr. Hethersett said to Nell. “No, not you!”

Mr. Fancot, hauled off the step of the coach by the jarvey, called upon the Viscount to come and give this individual one in the bread-basket, but the Viscount had more important matters to attend to. Addressing himself to Mr. Hethersett, he commanded that harassed exquisite to name his friends.

Alarmed by his evident intention to force a quarrel on to Mr. Hethersett, Nell laid a hand on his arm, and said: “Dy, pray don’t be so gooseish! You quite mistake the matter, you know! Indeed, it is abominable of you to think such horrid things, besides being excessively embarrassing!”

“Don’t you try to bamboozle me!” replied her brother, shaking off her hand. “Are you going to name your friends, sir, or are you not?”

“You wouldn’t remember ‘em if I did. What you need is a damper: you’re as drunk as a brewer’s horse!”

“Oh, no, I’m not! I’ll tell you what you are! A damned loose fish! A regular hedge-bird! A man-milliner, by God! Cowhearted!”

“If you ain’t stale-drunk in the morning, come round to my place, and I’ll dashed well show you how cowhearted I am!” promised Mr. Hethersett, stung by these opprobrious terms. “It’ll be bellows to mend with you, what’s more! I’ve seen you sport your canvas at Jackson’s, and when it comes to handy-blows you ain’t any better than a moulder!”

“Now, by God—I” ejaculated the Viscount, squaring up to him.

The jarvey called out approvingly: “A mill, a mill!” Nell flung herself between the two incensed gentlemen; and Mr. Fancot, who had been standing wrapped in thought, suddenly announced his intention of driving to Watier’s in the hack, and disappeared round the back of the coach.

“Dysart, how dare you be so uncivil!” Nell said hotly. Pray don’t heed him, Felix! I was never so mortified! Dysart, if you say another word to Felix—”

“It don’t signify!” interrupted Mr. Hethersett, who had had time to recollect the impropriety of engaging in fisticuffs in a lady’s presence. “Forgot myself!” He looked at the Viscount. “If you want to fight, you can tell me so tomorrow! I’m going to escort her ladyship home now.”

“Oh, no, you ain’t!” retorted the Viscount. “I am going to take her home! Yes, and I’m dashed well going to tell Cardross what sort of a May-game you’ve been playing, my buck!”

“Oh, dear, what are we to do?” said Nell distractedly. “Felix, there are a couple of men coming towards us!”

“Good God! There’s nothing for it: we shall have to take him along with us. Get into the hack, cousin!”

“Take him with us! But if Cardross sees him in this shocking state—!”

“Lord, Giles knows what he is!” said Mr. Hethersett impatiently.

“Good heavens!” said Nell rather faintly. “Then that must have been what he meant! How very dreadful!”

“Here, wait a bit!” suddenly said the Viscount. “Where’s Corny? Can’t leave Corny behind: it’s his birthday!”

“Well, thank goodness he has gone at least!” said Nell, as Mr. Hethersett handed her up into the coach. “If only we could persuade Dy—Oh!”

“Good God, what’s the matter?” demanded Mr. Hethersett, as she recoiled from the vehicle.

“He hasn’t gone!” said Nell despairingly. “He’s inside, and I think he’s fallen asleep!”

“Well, I’ll be gormed!” exclaimed the jarvey, peering into the coach. “‘E must have crope round when I wasn’t a-watching of ‘im, and got in by t’other door. Now we’ll ‘ave to ‘aul ‘im out again!”

“No, no, pray don’t!” begged Nell, hurriedly getting into the coach. “Only let us go away from here!”

“But I can’t let you drive about the town with a couple of ensign-bearers!” expostulated Mr. Hethersett. “Oh, my God, if it ain’t Bottisham bearing down on us! Well, that settles it: we can’t stay here another moment! Here, Dysart, stop looking for Fancot under the hack! He’s in it!” With this, he thrust the Viscount into the coach, gave a hurried direction to the jarvey, climbed into the coach himself, and slammed the door.