Devil’s Cub

“That’s what beats me,” confessed Rupert. “Not but what I never thought to find her here. But if she’s not, why is Vidal? That’s what I don’t understand. Now, I’ve been talking to the grooms. All I can find is that Vidal left Paris by the Port Royal to-day. Naturally, I don’t like to ask ’em point-blank if he’d a wench with him, and none of ’em—”

“Why not?” interrupted the Duchess. “Burn it, you can’t ask lackeys questions like that, Leonie!”

“I do not see why not. I want to know, and if I do not ask who will tell me?”

“They’ll never tell you, anyway, my dear,” his lordship informed her.

Dinner was over when Fletcher at last put in an appearance, and Rupert and Leonie had repaired to the library. Fletcher came in, sedate as ever, and begged her grace’s pardon for having been out when she arrived. Leonie brushed that aside, and once more demanded to know her son’s whereabouts.

“I think, your grace,” he answered guardedly, “that his lordship has gone to Dijon.”

Lord Rupert stared at him. “What in the fiend’s name does he want in Dijon?” he asked.

“His lordship did not tell me, my lord.” Leonie smote her hands together. “Voyons, I find it insupportable that no one can tell me anything about my son! Speak, you! Was that girl with M. le Marquis? —No, I will not be quiet, Rupert! Was she with him, Fletcher?”

“I beg your grace’s pardon?” Mr. Fletcher was all polite bewilderment.

“Do not beg my pardon again, or I shall become enraged!” Leonie said dangerously. “It is no use to tell me you do not know of any girl, for me I am well aware that M. le Marquis had one with him when he left England. That is not a thing extraordinary. It is true, is it not?”

Mr. Fletcher cast an appealing glance at Lord Rupert, who said testily: “Don’t stare at me, man! We know the girl was with his lordship.”

Mr. Fletcher bowed. “As your lordship says.”

“Well, has she gone to Dijon?”

“I could not say, my lord.”

Leonie eyed him with hostility. “Did she leave this house with M. le Marquis?”

“No, your grace. She was not with his lordship when he set forward on his journey.”

“There you are, my dear!” said Rupert. “Vidal’s got rid of her, and we may as well go home again before Avon gets wind of the affair.”

Leonie told Mr. Fletcher he might go, and when the door had closed behind him, she turned to Rupert with an expression of great anxiety on her face. “Rupert, it becomes more and more serious!”

“Devil a bit!” said his lordship cheerfully. “You can’t get away from it, the girl’s not with Vidal now, so I don’t see we’ve aught to worry over!”

“But Rupert, you do not understand at all! I have a very big fear that Dominique may have cast her off—in a rage, tu sais.”

Lord Rupert disposed his limbs more comfortably in his chair. “I shouldn’t wonder if he had,” he agreed. “It don’t concern us, thank the Lord!”

Leonie got up, and began to move about the room. “If he has done that it is a crime one does not forgive. I must find her.”

Lord Rupert blinked. “If she ain’t with that precious son of yours what do you want with her now?” he inquired.

“Do you think I will permit my son to abandon a girl in Paris?” Leonie said fiercely. “That is noble, yes! I tell you, I have been alone in a great city and there is nothing I do not know of what may happen to a girl who has no protector.”

“But you said this wench was a—”

“I may have said it, but that was because I was angry. I do not know what she is, and I will find her immediately. If Dominique has done her a wrong he shall marry her.”

Lord Rupert clasped his head in his hands. “Hang me, if I know what you’re about, Leonie!” he said. “Here’s me dragged out of England to help you save the Cub from an adventuress, as I thought, and now you say the boy’s to marry her!”

Leonie paid not the slightest heed to this. She went on pacing the room until suddenly an idea came to her, and she stopped short. “Rupert, Juliana is in Paris!”

“What of it?” said his lordship.

“But do you not see, that if Vidal has been staying here of course Juliana has met him?”

“Do you think she might know why the plaguey boy has gone off to Dijon?” inquired Rupert hopefully. “That’s what bothers me. Why Dijon?”

Leonie wrinkled her brow in a puzzled manner. “But why, Rupert, is it Dijon that bothers you? I find the whole of this affair so very strange and without reason that for Dominique to have gone to Dijon is a bagatelle.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Rupert said. “It’s such a devilish queer place to go to. Dijon! What in the fiend’s name would anybody want there? I’ll tell you what it is, Leonie, the boy’s behaving mighty oddly.” He shook his head. “The ninth earl was given to these turns, so they say. It’s a bad business.”

Leonie stared at him. Lord Rupert tapped his forehead significantly. Leonie said in great indignation: “Are you telling me that my son is mad?”

“We’ll hope he ain’t,” Rupert said pessimistically, “but you can’t deny he’s behaving in a manner no one would call sane. Dijon! Why, it’s absurd!”

“If you were not Monseigneur’s brother, Rupert, I should have one big quarrel with you. Mad! Voyons, he is not so mad as you, for you have not any sense at all. Let us go to find Juliana.”

They found, not Juliana, but her hostess, laboriously writing what seemed to be a very long letter. When they were ushered into her boudoir she displayed as much startled surprise as could be expected of anyone so habitually placid. She got up to embrace Leonie, almost falling upon her neck. “Mon Dieu, is it you, Leonie?” she said, with a fat gasp. Then she held out a checking hand. “Not my cousin Justin? Do not say my cousin Justin is here!” she implored.

“Lord, you wouldn’t see me here if he was in Paris!” said Rupert reassuringly.

“If Fanny is here, I cannot face her!” stated madame in palpitating tones. She pointed to her desk, and the scattered sheets of gilt paper. “I am writing to her now. Why have you come? I am glad, yes, but I do not know why you have come.”

“Glad, are you? Well, it don’t sound like it,” commented his lordship. “We’ve come chasing after that plaguey nephew of mine, and a devilish silly errand it is.”

Madame sank down on to a spindle-legged chair, and stared at him with her mouth open. “You know, then?” she faltered.

“Yes, yes, we know everything!” Leonie said. “Now tell me where is Dominique, Elisabeth? Please tell me quickly.”

“But I do not know!” cried madame, spreading out her two plump hands.

“Oh, peste!” said Leonie impatiently.

“Come now, that’s the only thing we do know,” said his lordship. “Vidal’s gone to Dijon.”

Madame looked from him to Leonie in blank bewilderment. “To Dijon? But why? Gracious God, why to Dijon?”

“Just what I said myself, cousin,” replied Rupert triumphantly. “I don’t say the boy hasn’t his reasons, but what the devil he can want in Dijon beats me.”

“Let me see Juliana,” interrupted the Duchess. “I think perhaps she will know where is my son, for he is fond of her, and I feel very certain that she has seen him.”

Madame gave a start. “Juliana?” she echoed hollowly. “Alas, then, you do not know!”

Lord Rupert looked at her with misgiving in his face. “Burn it, I believe you’re going to start a mystery now. What’s to do? Not that I want to know, for I’ve enough on my hands as it is, but you’d best tell us and so be done with it.”

Thus encouraged, madame delivered her terrific pronouncement: “Juliana has eloped with Vidal!”

The effect of this on her hearers was to bereave them, momentarily, of all power of speech. Leonie stood staring in astonished incredulity, and Lord Rupert’s jaw dropped perceptibly. Leonie found her tongue first.