dear!”
“She kissed my hand,” Avon said. “We have all been fools this day. Do not distress yourself, Fanny. I shall bring her back if I have to search the world for her. And when she comes she will come as Mademoiselle de Saint- Vire.”
“But I don’t understand how—oh, here is Rupert! Yes, Rupert, I have been crying, and I do not care. Tell him, Justin.”
Avon showed his young brother Leonie’s letter. Rupert read it, exclaiming at intervals. When he came to the end he snatched his wig from his head, threw it upon the floor, and stamped on it, saying various things beneath his breath that made Lady Fanny clap her hands over her ears.
“If you don’t have his blood for this, Justin, I shall!” he said at last, picked up his wig, and put it on his head again. “May he rot in hell for a black scoundrel! Is she his bastard?”
“She is not,” said Avon. “She is his legitimate daughter. I have sent for Hugh and Marling. It is time that you all knew my infant’s story.”
“Left her love for me, bless her!” choked Rupert. “Where is she? Are we to set off at once? Only give the word, Justin, and I’m ready!”
“I do not doubt it, child, but we do not start to-day. I believe I know whither she has gone; she will be safe enough. Before I bring her back she shall be righted in the eyes of the world.”
Rupert glanced down at the letter in his hand.
“
Avon looked at him.
“That I know,” he said. “My part ends when I bring her back to Paris. It is better so.”
“So you do love her.” Rupert nodded to his sister.
“I have loved her for a long time. And you, my son?”
“No, no, I’m no suitor of hers, I thank you! She’s a darling, but I’d have none of her to wife. It’s you she wants, and it’s you she’ll have, mark my words!”
“I am ‘Monseigneur’,” Avon replied with a crooked smile. “There is glamour attached to me, but I am too old for her.”
Then the others came in in a state of liveliest curiosity.
“What’s to do, Justin?” asked Hugh. “Has there been a death in the house?”
“No, my dear. Not a death.”
Lady Fanny sprang up.
“Justin—she—she would not have killed herself, and—and said that in her letter so that you should not guess her intention? I never thought of that! Oh, Edward, Edward, I am so unhappy!”
“She?” Marling put an arm about Fanny. “Do you mean—Leonie?”
“She has not killed herself, Fanny. You forget that she has her maid with her,” Avon said reassuringly.
Davenant shook him by the arm.
“Speak out, man, for God’s sake! What has happened to the child?”
“She has left me,” Avon said, and put Leonie’s note in his hand.
With one accord Merivale and Marling went to look over Hugh’s shoulder.
“God’s truth!” exploded Merivale, and clapped a hand to his sword hilt as he read. “Oh, what a villain! Now, Justin, you shall have at him, and I’m with you to the death!”
“But——” Marling looked up with puckered brows.
“Poor, poor child, is it true?”
Hugh came to the end, and said huskily:
“Little Leon! ’Fore Gad, it’s pathetic!”
Rupert, at this juncture, relieved his feelings by throwing his snuff-box at the opposite wall.
“Oh, we’ll send him to hell between us, never fear!” he stormed. “Cur! Dastardly cur! Here, give me some burgundy, Fan! I’m in such a heat—Swords are too good for the rogue, damme they are!”
“Much too good,” agreed his Grace.
“Swords!” Merivale exclaimed. “It’s too quick. You or I, Justin, could kill him in less than three minutes.”
“Too quick, and too clumsy. There
Hugh looked up.
“But explain?” he begged. “Where is the child? What are you talking about? You have found a way to pay your debt in full, I suppose, but how have you found it?”
“Curiously enough,” said his Grace, “I had forgotten that old quarrel. You remind me most opportunely. The scales weigh heavily against M. de Saint-Vire. Give me your attention for one minute, and you shall know Leonie’s story.” Briefly, and with none of his accustomed suavity, he told them the truth. They listened in thunder-struck silence, and for some time after he had finished could find no words to speak. It was Marling who broke the silence.
“If that is true the man is the biggest scoundrel unhung!” he said. “Are you sure, Avon?”
“Perfectly, my friend.”
Rupert shook his fist, and muttered darkly.
“Good God, do we live in the Dark Ages?” cried Hugh. “It’s almost incredible!”
“But the proof!” Fanny cut in. “What can you do, Justin?”
“I can stake everything on the last round, Fanny. I am going to do that. And I think—yes, I really think that I shall win.” He smiled unpleasantly. “For the present my infant is safe, and I believe I may put my hand on her when I wish.”
“What do you intend to do?” shouted Rupert.
“Oh yes, Justin, please tell us!” besought my lady. “It is so dreadful to know nothing. To have to sit idle!”
“I know, Fanny, but once more I must ask you all to be patient. I play my games best alone. One thing I may promise you: You shall be in at the death.”
“But when will it be?” Rupert poured out another glass of burgundy “You’re too devilish tricky for me, Justin. I want a hand in the affair.”
“No.” Hugh shook his head. “Let Avon play his game to a close. There are too many of us to join with him, and there’s a proverb that says ‘Too many cooks spoil the broth’. I’m not usually bloodthirsty, but I do not want Saint-Vire’s broth to be spoiled.”
“I want to see him crushed,” said Merivale. “And that soon!”
“You shall, my dear Anthony. But for the present we will behave as ever. If any ask for Leonie she is indisposed. Fanny, did you say that Madame du Deffand gives a soiree to-morrow?”
“Yes, but I’ve not the heart to go,” sighed my lady. “It will be so brilliant too, and I did want Leonie to be there!”
“Nevertheless, my dear, you will go, with us all. Calm yourself, Rupert. Your part was played, and played well, at Le Havre. Now it is my turn. Fanny, you are tired out. Go to bed now; you cannot do anything yet.”
“I must go back to de Chatelet,” said Merivale. He gripped Avon’s hand. “Act up to your name now, Satanas, if ever you did! We are all with you.”
“Even I,” said Marling with a smile. “You may be as devilish as you please, for Saint-Vire is the worst kind of villain I have had the ill-luck to meet.”
Rupert, hearing, choked in the act of drinking his third glass of burgundy.
“Damme, I boil with rage when I think of him!” he swore. “Leonie called him pig-person, but ’fore God he’s worse than that! He’s——!”
Fanny fled incontinently from the room.
CHAPTER XXX
The Marlings came early to Madame du Deffand’s house, and were followed shortly by Merivale and Hugh Davenant. Madame du Deffand wanted to know what had become of Leonie, and was informed that she was indisposed, and had remained at home. Rupert presently arrived in company with d’Anvau and Lavoulcre, and was
