These Old Shades

now!”

“Safe, eh? I’ll show him!” Rupert shook his fist. “Where was I?”

“At Le Havre,” Leonie prompted.

“Oh, ay, that’s it! Well, by the time I’d paid this fee and that, my guineas were all gone, so off I went to sell my diamond pin.”

“Oh! It was such a pretty pin!”

“Never mind that. The trouble I had to get rid of the damned thing you’d scarce believe. ’Pon my soul, I believe they thought I’d stolen it!”

“But did you sell it?”

“Ay, for less than half its worth, rot it! Then I skipped off to the inn to inquire of you, and to get me something to eat. Thunder and turf, but I was hungry!”

“So was I!” sighed Leonie. “And that pig-person ate and ate!”

“You put me out,” said Rupert severely. “Where was I? Oh yes! Well, the landlord told me that Saint-Vire was gone off by coach to Rouen at two o’clock, so the next thing I had to do was to hire a horse to be after you again. That’s all there is to it, and devilish good sport it was! But where we are now, or what we’re to do, beats me!”

“The Comte will come, do you not think?” Leonie asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. He can’t very well snatch you when I’m here. I wish I knew what the plague he wants with you. Y’know, this is mighty difficult, for we haven’t either of us a notion what the game is we’re playing.” He frowned, thinking. “Of course, Saint-Vire may come to steal you again. He’ll have ridden back to Le Havre first, depend on’t, and when he finds we’ve not been there he may scour the country-side, for he knows he hit me, and it’s likely we’d be hiding somewhere near.”

“What are we to do?” asked Leonie, with pale cheeks.

“What, not afraid, are you? Damn it, he can’t walk off with you under my very nose!”

“Oh, he can, Rupert, he can! You are so weak you cannot help me!”

Rupert made an effort to hoist himself up, and failed dismally. He lay fuming.

“Well, damme, I can fire!”

“But we have no gun!” objected Leonie. “At any moment he may come, and these people will never be able to keep him out.”

“Pistol, child, pistol! Lord, what will you say next? Of course we have one! D’ye take me for a fool? Feel in the pockets of my coat.”

Leonie jumped down from the bed, and dragged my lord’s coat from the chair. She produced Mr. Fletcher’s unwieldy pistol from one of its pockets, and brandished it gleefully.

“Rupert, you are very clever! Now we can kill that pig-person!”

“Hi, put it down!” commanded Rupert in some alarm. “You know naught of pistols, and we’ll have an accident if you fiddle with it! The thing’s loaded and cocked!”

“I do know about pistols!” said Leonie indignantly. “You point it, so! And pull this thing.”

“For God’s sake, put it down!” cried Rupert. “You’re levelling the damned thing at me, silly chit! Put it on the table beside me, and find my purse. It’s in my breeches pocket.”

Leonie laid the pistol down reluctantly, and rummaged anew for the purse.

“How much have we?” Rupert asked.

Leonie emptied the guineas on to the bed. Three rolled on to the floor, and one dropped into Rupert’s broth with a splash.

“’Pon my soul, you are a careless minx!” said Rupert, fishing for the coin in his bowl. “There’s another gone now, under the bed!”

Leonie dived after the errant guineas, retrieved them, and sat down on the bed to count them.

“One, two, four, six, and a louis—oh, and another guinea, and three sous, and——”

“That’s not the way! Here, give ’em to me! There’s another gone under the bed, burn it!”

Leonie was grovelling under the bed in search of the coin when they heard the clatter of wheels outside.

“What’s that?” said Rupert sharply. “Quick! To the window!”

Leonie extricated herself with difficulty, and ran to the window.

“Rupert, ’tis he! Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, what are we to do?”

“Can you see him?” Rupert demanded.

“No, but there is a coach, and the horses are steaming! Oh listen, Rupert!”

Voices were heard below, expostulating. Evidently Madame was guarding the staircase.

“Saint-Vire, I’ll bet a monkey!” said Rupert. “Where’s that pistol? Plague take this broth!” He threw the bowl and the rest of its contents on to the floor, settled his wig straight, and reached out a hand for the pistol, a very grim look on his drawn young face.

Leonie darted forward and seized the weapon.

“You are not enough strong!” she said urgently. “See, you have exhausted yourself already! Leave me! I will shoot him dead!”

“Here, no, I say!” expostulated Rupert. “You’ll blow him to smithereens! Give it to me! Fiend seize it, do as I say!”

The commotion below had subsided a little, and footsteps could be heard mounting the stairs.

“Give that pistol to me, and get you to the other side of the bed,” ordered Rupert. “By Gad, we’ll see some sport now! Come here!”

Leonie had backed to the window, and stood with the pistol levelled at the door, her finger crooked about the trigger. Her mouth was shut hard, and her eyes blazed. Rupert struggled impatiently to rise.

“For God’s sake, give it to me! We don’t want to kill the fellow!”

“Yes, we do,” said Leonie. “He gave me an evil drug.”

The door opened.

“If you come one step into the room I will shoot you dead!” said Leonie clearly.

“And I thought that you would be pleased to see me, ma fille,” said a soft drawling voice. “I beg you will not shoot me dead.” Great-coated, booted and spurred, not a hair of his elegant wig out of place, his Grace of Avon stood upon the threshold, quizzing-glass raised, a faint smile curling his thin lips.

Rupert gave a shout of laughter, and collapsed on to his pillows.

“Thunder and turf, but I never thought I’d live to be thankful for the sight of you, Justin!” he gasped. “Stap me if I did!”

CHAPTER XX

His Grace of Avon Takes Command of the Game

The colour came flooding back to Leonie’s cheeks.

“Monseigneur!” she gasped, and flew across the room towards him, laughing and crying at once. “Oh, Monseigneur, you have come, you have come!” She landed breathless in his arms, and clung to him.

“Why, ma fille!” said his Grace gently. “What is all this? Did you doubt I should come?”

“Take that pistol from her,” recommended Rupert faintly, but with a smile.

The pistol was pressed to his Grace’s heart. He removed it from Leonie’s clutch, and pocketed it. He looked down at the curly head with a curious smile, and presently stroked it.

“My dear infant, you must not cry. Come, it is in very truth Monseigneur! There is nothing to frighten you.”

“Oh, I am n-not frightened!” said Leonie. “I am so very glad!”

“Then I beg you will signify your gladness in a more becoming manner. May I ask what you are doing in those clothes?”

Leonie kissed his hand, and mopped her eyes.

“I like them, Monseigneur,” she said, with a twinkle.

“I doubt it not.” Avon went past her to the bed, and bent over it, laying his cool white hand over Rupert’s galloping pulse. “You are hurt, boy?”

Rupert managed to smile.

“It’s naught. A hole in my shoulder, plague take it!”