“Heaven be praised, they have come back!”
With one accord Anthony and Jennifer deserted the ailing lady, and hurried into the hall. The great front-door stood open, and into the house stepped his Grace of Avon, elegant in a coat of fine purple velvet, laced with gold, a many-caped greatcoat, over all, worn carelessly open, and polished top-boots on his feet. He paused on the threshold and raised his eyeglass to survey the Merivales.
“Dear me!” he said languidly. “An unexpected honour. Your ladyship’s devoted servant.”
“Oh lord!” said Merivale, for all the world like a rueful boy.
His Grace’s lips quivered, but Jennifer blushed fiery red. Merivale went forward.
“You must deem this an unwarranted intrusion, Duke,” he began stiffly.
“Not at all,” bowed his Grace. “I am charmed.”
Merivale returned the bow.
“I was summoned to Madam Field’s assistance,” he said. “Otherwise I should not be here, believe me.”
Leisurely the Duke divested himself of his greatcoat, and shook out the ruffles.
“But shall we not repair to the withdrawing-room?” he suggested. “You are saying, I think, that you came to my cousin’s assistance?” He led the way to the withdrawing-room, and bowed them in. Madam Field, seeing him, gave a shriek, and fell back upon her cushions.
“Oh, mercy, ’tis Justin!” she cried.
Jennifer went to her.
“Hush, madam! Calm yourself!”
“You appear to be strangely afflicted, cousin,” remarked his Grace.
“Oh Justin—oh cousin! I had no notion! So innocent they seemed! I can scarce believe——”
“Innocent! Of course they were!” snorted Merivale.
“Have done with this elopement foolery! It’s mere child’s talk!”
“Oh Anthony, do you think so indeed?” said Jennifer thankfully.
“I do not wish to seem importunate,” said the Duke, “but I should like an explanation. Where, may I ask, is my ward?”
“That,” said Merivale, “is the very root of the matter.”
The Duke stood very still.
“Indeed!” he said softly. “Pray continue. Cousin, I must request you to cease your lamentations.”
Madam’s noisy sobs abated. She clutched Jennifer’s hand, and sniffed dolefully.
“I know nothing more than this,” said Merivale. “She and Rupert have been absent since eleven of the clock this morning.”
“Rupert?” said his Grace.
“I should have told you that Rupert has been staying with us these past three weeks.”
“You amaze me,” said Avon. His eyes were as hard as agates. He turned, and put his snuff-box down on the table. “The mystery would seem to be solved,” he said evenly.
“Sir!” It was Jennifer who spoke. His Grace looked at her indifferently. “If you are thinking that—that they have eloped, I am sure—oh, I am sure that ’tis not so! Such a notion was never in either of their heads!”
“So?” Avon looked from one to the other. “Pray enlighten me!”
Merivale shook his head.
“Faith, I cannot. But I would stake mine honour that there’s been no thought of love between them. They are the veriest children and even now I suspect they may be playing a trick on us. More than that——” He paused.
“Yes?” said Avon.
Jennifer broke in.
“Sir, the child can talk of no one but yourself!” she said impetuously. “You have all her—her adoration!”
“So I thought,” answered Avon. “But one may be mistaken. I believe there is a saying that youth will to youth.”
“It’s no such thing,” Merivale averred. “Why, they are for ever quarrelling! Moreover they have taken no horses. Mayhap they are hiding somewhere to frighten us.”
A footman came to them.
“Well?” Avon spoke without turning his head.
“Mr. Manvers, your Grace, who desires speech with my Lord Rupert.”
“I have not the pleasure of Mr. Manvers’ acquaintance,” said the Duke, “but you may admit him.”
Entered a little wiry gentleman with red cheeks, and bright, angry eyes. He glared at the assembled company, and, singling out the Duke, rapped forth a question.
“Are you Lord Rupert Alastair, sir?”
“I am not,” said his Grace.
The irate little man rounded on Merivale.
“You, sir?”
“My name is Merivale,” Anthony replied.
“Then where is Lord Rupert Alastair?” demanded Mr. Manvers, in a voice of baffled rage.
His Grace took snuff.
“That is what we should all like to know,” he said.
“Damme, sir, do you think to play with me?” fumed Mr. Manvers.
“I have never played with anyone,” said the Duke.
“I am come here to find Lord Rupert Alastair! I demand speech with him! I want an explanation of him!”
“My dear sir,” said Avon. “Pray join our ranks! We all want that.”
“Who the devil are you?” cried the exasperated little man.
“Sir,” bowed his Grace. “I believe I am the devil. So they say.”
Merivale was shaken with silent laughter. Mr. Manvers turned to him.
“Is this a mad-house?” he asked. “Who is he?”
“He is the Duke of Avon,” said Merivale unsteadily.
Mr. Manvers pounced on Avon again.
“Ah! Then you are Lord Rupert’s brother!” he said vindictively.
“My misfortune, sir, believe me.”
“What I demand to know is this!” said Mr. Manvers. “Where is my roan?”
“I haven’t the least idea,” said his Grace placidly. “I am not even sure that I know what you are talking about.”
“Faith, I’m sure I don’t!” chuckled Merivale.
“My roan horse, sir! Where is it? Answer me that!”
“I fear you will have to hold me excused,” said the Duke. “I know nothing about your horse. In fact, I am not, at the moment, interested in your horse—roan or otherwise.”
Mr. Manvers raised his fists heavenwards.
“Interested in it!” he spluttered. “My horse has been stolen!”
“You have all my sympathy,” yawned his Grace. “But I fail to see what concern it is of mine.”
Mr. Manvers thumped the table.
“Stolen, sir, by your brother, Lord Rupert Alastair, this very day!”
His words brought about a sudden silence.
“Continue!” requested his Grace. “You interest us now exceedingly. Where, when, how, and why did Lord Rupert steal your horse?”
“He stole it in the village, sir, this morning! And I may say, sir, that I consider it a gross impertinence! a piece of insolence that infuriates me! I am a calm man, sir, but when I receive such a message from a man of birth, of title——”
“Oh, he left a message, did he?” interposed Merivale.
“With the blacksmith, sir! My groom rode over on the roan to the village, and, the horse casting a shoe, he took him to the smith, very properly! While Coggin was shoeing the animal my fellow walked on to Fawley to execute my commands.” He breathed heavily. “When he returned, the horse was gone! The smith—damn him for a fool!—tells me that Lord Rupert insisted on taking the horse—
