These Old Shades

“She has told me so much. I cannot but be sure of your—kindness.” She paused. “Sir, what—what lies between you and me is past, and should be forgotten.”

His Grace bowed over her hand; his lips were smiling.

“Jenny, if I said that I had forgotten you would be offended.”

“No,” she answered, and a laugh trembled in her voice. “I should be glad.”

“My dear, I desire nothing better than to please you.”

“I think,” she said, “that there is one now who holds a greater place in your heart than ever I held.”

“You err, Jenny. I have no heart,” he replied.

A silence fell. It was broken by a lackey.

“Your Grace, the curricle waits.”

“How will you cross?” Merivale asked.

“In the Silver Queen. She lies in Southampton Water. Unless Rupert has already commandeered her. If that should chance to be so, I suppose I must hire a vessel.”

Mr. Manvers came up.

“Sir, I will not stay with that woman who has the vapours,” he said. “It is very well for you to say you are weary of my horse, but I want its instant recovery!”

The Duke had donned his great-cloak, and now he picked up his hat and gloves.

“My Lord Merivale will be charmed to assist you,” he said, with the glimmering of a smile. He bowed low to them all, and was gone.

CHAPTER XIX

Lord Rupert Wins the Second Trick

Leonie awoke, sighing. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her, and for a few minutes she lay with closed eyes, in semi-consciousness. By degrees she shook off the effects of the drug, and struggled up, a hand to her head. She looked about her in bewilderment, and found that she was on a couch in a strange apartment, alone. Bit by bit memory came, and she got up, and went to the window.

“Tiens!” she said, looking out. “Where am I now? I do not know this place. It is the sea.” She stared at the harbour in bewilderment. “That man gave me an evil drink, I remember. And I went to sleep, I suppose. Where is this wicked Comte? I think that I bit him very hard, and I know that I kicked him. And then we came to that inn—where was it?—miles and miles from Avon—and he brought me coffee.” She chuckled. “And I threw it at him. How he did swear! Then he brought more coffee, and he made me drink it. Faugh! Coffee, he called it? Pig-wash! What then? Peste, I do not know anything more!” She turned to look at the clock on the mantelpiece, and frowned. “Mon Dieu, what is this?” She went to the clock, and regarded it fixedly. “Sotte!” she addressed it. “How can you be noon? It was noon when he made me drink that evil pig-wash. Tu ne marches pas.”

The steady ticking gave her the lie. She put her head on one side.

“Comment? Voyons, I do not understand this at all. Unless—” her eyes widened —“Am I in to-morrow?” she wondered. “I am in to-morrow! That man made me go to sleep, and I have slept all day and night! Sacre bleu, but I am angry with that man! I am glad that I bit him. Doubtless he means to kill me, but why? Perhaps Rupert will come and save me, but I think that I will save myself, and not wait for Rupert, for I do not want to be killed by this Comte.” She considered. “No, mayhap he does not want to kill me. But if he does not—Grand Dieu, can it be that he elopes with me? No, that is not possible, because he believes I am a boy. And I do not think that he can love me very much.” Her eyes twinkled impishly. “Now I will go,” she said.

But the door was fast, and the windows too small to allow her to escape through them. The twinkle died, and the small mouth set mutinously.

“Parbleu, mais c’est infame! He locks me in, enfin! Oh, I am very angry!” She laid her finger on her lips. “If I had a dagger I would kill him, but I have no dagger, tant pis. What then?” She paused. “I am a little frightened, I think,” she confessed. “I must escape from this wicked person. It will be better, perhaps, if I am still asleep.”

Footsteps sounded. Quick as thought Leonie returned to her couch, covered herself with her cloak, and lay down, with closed eyes. A key grated in the lock, and someone entered. Leonie heard Saint-Vire’s voice.

“Bring dejeuner here, Victor, and do not let any enter. The child still sleeps.”

“Bien, m’sieur.”

“Now, who is Victor?” wondered Leonie. “It is the servant, I suppose. Dieu me sauve! ”

The Comte came to her side, and bent over her, listening to her breathing. Leonie tried to still the uncomfortably hard beating of her heart. Evidently the Comte noticed nothing unusual, for he moved away again. Presently Leonie heard the chink of crockery.

“It is very hard that I must listen to this pig-person eating, when I am so hungry,” she reflected. “Oh, but I will make him very sorry!”

“When will m’sieu have the horses put to?” inquired Victor.

“Oho!” thought Leonie. “We travel further, then!”

“There is no need for haste now,” Saint-Vire answered. “That young fool, Alastair, would not follow us to France. We will start at two.”

Leonie’s eyes nearly flew open. She restrained herself with an effort.

“Le miserable.” she thought savagely. “Am I in Calais? No, for this is of a certainty not Calais. Perhaps I am at Le Havre. I do not immediately see what I am to do, but certainly I will go on being asleep. We went to Portsmouth, then. I think that Rupert will come, if he saw the way we went, but I must not wait for him. I would like to bite that man again. Diable, I am in great danger, it seems! I have a very cold feeling in my inside, and I wish that Monseigneur would come. That is foolishness, of course. He does not know that anything has happened to me. Ah, bah! Now this pig-person eats, while I starve! Certainly I will make him sorry.”

“The lad sleeps overlong, m’sieur,” Victor said. “He should wake soon now.”

“I do not expect it,” Saint-Vire replied. “He is young, and I gave him a strong dose. There is no cause for alarm, and it suits my purpose better if he sleeps for a while yet.”

“Sans doute!” thought Leonie. “So that was it! He drugged me! He is of a wickedness! I must breathe more heavily.”

Time went lagging by, but at length there came some commotion without, and Victor entered the room again.

“The coach awaits, m’sieur. Shall I take the boy?”

“I will. You have paid the reckoning?”

“Yes, m’sieur.”

Saint-Vire went to Leonie and lifted her. She was limp in his hold.

“I must let my head fall back, so! And my mouth open a little, thus! Voyons, I am being very clever! But I do not in the least know what comes to me. This man is a fool.”

She was carried out, and put into the coach, and propped up with cushions.

“You will make for Rouen,” Saint-Vire said. “En avant!”

The door was shut, Saint-Vire settled himself beside Leonie, and the coach rolled forward.

Leonie set her wits to work.

“This becomes more and more difficult. I do not see that I can do anything but continue to sleep while this man sits beside me. Presently we shall stop to change horses, for these are not good, I think. Perhaps this pig- person will get out then. If he thinks I am asleep he will do that, for he will want to eat again. But still I do not see how I am to escape. I will say a prayer to the Bon Dieu to show me a way.”

Meanwhile the coach travelled on at a fair rate, and the Comte took a book from his pocket and began to read it, glancing occasionally at the inert figure beside him. Once he felt Leonie’s pulse, and seemed to be satisfied, for he sank back into his corner and resumed his reading.

They must have been over an hour on the road when it happened. There was a terrific bump, a lurch, shouts