Devil’s Cub

house!” The Marquis’s brows lifted. “My good sir,” he said, “you are not sent for to condemn my morals, but to marry me to a certain lady at present staying in this inn.”

Leonie cried out, aghast: “But you cannot, Dominique! You said that she is married to M. Comyn!”

“So I thought, madame, but she is not.”

“Sir,” said Mr. Hammond very furiously; “I shall perform no marriage service!”

Lord Rupert looked at him through his quizzing glass. “Who is this fellow?” he inquired haughtily. “I don’t like him, stap me if I do!”

“Dominique,” Leonie said urgently, “I cannot talk to you here, with all these people. You say you will marry this girl, but it seems to me that it is not all necessary, for first she runs away with you, and then with M. Comyn, so that I see very well she is like that mother and sister whom I have met.”

He took her hands. “Maman, when you have seen her you will know that she is not like them. I am going to marry her.” He drew her over to the window, and said gently: “Ma chere, you told me to fall in love, did you not?”

“Not with a girl like this one,” she replied, with a small sob.

“You will like her,” he persisted. “Egad, she’s after your own heart, maman! She shot me in the arm.”

“Voyons, do you think that is what I like?” Leonie said indignantly.

“You’d have done it yourself, my dear.” He paused, staring out of the window. She watched him anxiously, and after a moment he turned his head and looked down at her. “Madame, I love her,” he said curtly. “If I can induce her to take me—”

“What’s this? Induce her! I find you absurd, mon enfant.”

He smiled faintly. “She ran off with Comyn sooner than wed me, nevertheless.”

“Where is she?” Leonie asked abruptly.

“In her bed-chamber. There was an accident. When Comyn and I had our little affair, she threw herself between us, and my sword scratched her.”

“Oh, mon Dieu!” Leonie exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “It is not enough to abduct her! No, you must wound her also! You are incorrigible!”

“Will you see her, maman?”

“I will see her, yes, but I promise nothing. Dominique, have you thought of Monseigneur? He will never, never permit it! You know he will not.”

“He cannot stop it, madame. If it leads to an estrangement between us I am sorry for it, but my mind is made up.” He pressed her hand. “Come to her now, ma chere.” He led her back into the room. “Comyn, since you know Miss Challoner’s room and I do not, will you have the goodness to escort my mother to her?”

Mr. Comyn, who was talking earnestly to Mr. Hammond, turned at once, and bowed, “I shall be happy to do so, sir.”

Rupert called out: “Hey, where are you off to, Leonie? Tell me, do we spend the night in this place?”

“I don’t know,” Leonie answered. “I am going to make the acquaintance of this Mademoiselle Challoner.”

She went out, followed by Mr. Comyn, and his lordship shook his head gloomily. “It won’t do, Vidal. You can talk your mother over, but if you think your father will stand this you don’t know him. Lord, I wish I were well out of it!” He became aware of his nephew’s coatless and bootless state. “For God’s sake, boy, put your clothes on!” he begged.

Vidal laughed, and sat down to pull on his boots. His uncle observed them through his glass with considerable interest. “Did Haspener make those for you, Vidal?”

“Lord, no!” said the Marquis scornfully. “What, does he make yours still? These are a pair of Martin’s.”

“Martin, eh? I’ve a mind to let him make me a pair. I don’t like your coats, I don’t like your stock-buckle, your hats have too rakish a cock for a man of my years, your waistcoats are damned unimaginative, but one thing I’ll allow: your boots are the best made in the town, ay, and the highest polished. What does your fellow use on ’em? I’ve tried a blacking made with champagne, but it ain’t as good as you’d expect.”

Mr. Hammond broke in on this with unconcealed impatience. “Sir, is this a moment in which to discuss the rival merits of your bootmakers? Lord Vidal! Finding me adamant, Mr. Comyn has favoured me with an explanation of this extraordinary situation.”

“He has, has he?” said the Marquis, looking round for his coat.

“Devilish fluent, he was,” nodded Lord Rupert. “Y’know, Vidal, it’s a bad business, but you can’t marry the girl. There’s the name to be thought on, and what’s more, Justin.”

Mr. Hammond cast him a fulminating glance, but addressed himself to the Marquis. “My lord, his explanation leaves me horrified, I may say aghast, at the impropriety of your lordship’s behaviour. My instinct, sir, is to wash my hands of the whole affair. If I relent, it is out of no desire to oblige one whose mode of life is abhorrent to me, but out of compassion for the unfortunate young female whose fair name you have sullied, and in the interests of morality.”

Lord Rupert stopped swinging his eyeglass, and said indignantly: “Damme, I’d not be married by this fellow if I were you, Vidal. Not that I’m saying you should be married at all, for the thing’s preposterous.”

Vidal shrugged. “What do you suppose I care for his opinion of me so long as he does what I want?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said his lordship. “Things are come to a pretty pass, so they are, when any plaguey parson takes it on himself to preach a damned sermon to your face. Why, in my father’s time—you never knew him: devilish badtempered man he was—in his time, I say, if the chaplain said aught he didn’t like—and from the pulpit, mind you!—he’d throw his snuff-box at him, or anything else he had to hand ... Now what’s to do?”

The Duchess had come back into the room in a hurry. She is not there, mon fils,” she announced, not entirely without relief.

“What?” Vidal said quickly. “Not there?”

“She is not in the inn. I do not know where she is. No one knOWS.”

The Marquis almost brushed past her, and went out. Leonie sighed, and looked at Rupert. “I cannot help being a little glad that she has gone,” she confessed. “But why does she run away so much? I find it not at all easy to understand.”

Juliana, who had been sitting for a long time by the fire, staring into it, now raised her voice. “You don’t want Vidal to marry her, Aunt Leonie, but indeed she is the very one for him. She loves him, too.”

“Eh bien, if she loves him I understand less than ever why she runs away.”

“She thinks she is not good enough for him,” said Juliana.

Mr. Hammond picked up his hat. “Since I apprehend that the unfortunate female I came here to serve has departed, I shall beg to take my leave. To perform this marriage service would have been vastly repugnant to me, and I can only be thankful that the need for it no longer exists.”

The Duchess’s large eyes surveyed him critically. “If you are going, m’sieur, it is a very good thing, for I find you infinitely de trop, and in a little while I shall be out of all patience with you.”

Mr. Hammond’s jaw dropped perceptibly at this unexpected severity, and he became extremely red about the gills. Lord Rupert pressed his hat and cane upon him with great promptitude, and lounged over to open the door. “Outside, Sir Parson!” he said cheerfully.

“I shall relieve your grace of my unwelcome presence at once,” announced Mr. Hammond awfully, and bowed.

“Never mind your civilities,” recommended his lordship. “They come a trifle late. But one word in your ear, my buck! If you bandy my nephew’s name about in connection with this affair, my friend Lord Manton will look for another bear-leader for his cub. Do you take me?”

“Your threats, sir, leave me unmoved,” replied Mr. Hammond. “But I can assure your lordship that my one desire is to forget the prodigiously disagreeable events of this day.” He grasped his cane tighter in his hand, tucked his hat under his arm, and went out, very erect and stiff.

Lord Rupert kicked the door to. “Let’s hope that’s the last we’ll see of that fellow,” he said. “Now what’s all this about Vidal’s wench? Gone off, has she? Well, that’s one problem off our hands.”

“That is just what I thought,” sighed the Duchess. “But Dominique is in love with her, and I fear very much he will try to find her, and if he does he says he will marry her, which is a thing I find very worrying.”

“Marry her? What does the boy want to marry her for?” asked his lordship, puzzled. “It don’t seem sense to