“And did Spurstow’s display of righteous indignation allay suspicion?” enquired Vincent, restoring his snuffbox to his pocket, and dusting his sleeve with his handkerchief.
“Well, it wouldn’t allay my suspicion!” said Claud. “If any such gallows-faced cove came and talked to me about his spotless reputation, I’d give him in charge! Too smoky by half! Depend upon it, he’s got run goods hidden all over the house!”
“If that’s so, how did he get them there?” retorted Richmond. “Each time the Preventives have got wind of a big run, Ottershaw has posted dragoons in the lane, and they’ve never seen or heard a thing! There’s no other way of getting to the house, except by the gate that leads out of the shrubbery into our grounds, and that couldn’t possibly be used. For one thing, it squeaks loud enough to be heard half-a-mile away, and, for another, a man posted outside the main-gate, in the lane, couldn’t help but see if anyone came out of the shrubbery.”
“True,” agreed Vincent. “Assuming, of course, that he was a stout-hearted fellow, and maintained his post —which I doubt. From what I know of the inhabitants of this unregenerate locality, I should suppose that they could be counted on to fortify the dragoon for his vigil with some pretty choice ghost-stories.”
“Yes, of course they do,” grinned Richmond. “Ash—he’s the buffer at the Blue Lion, you know—says the men hate that duty like the devil. According to him, they’ve seen more ghosts at the Dower House than we ever dreamed of! I don’t suppose they do stay too close to the gate, but it makes no odds as long as they keep the lane covered: any pack-train would have to come that way. The best of it is that while Ottershaw concentrated his forces there, the night of a big run, the train was miles to the west, and got through without catching so much as a whiff of a Preventive!”
Vincent looked rather amused. “You are remarkably well-informed! Where do you come by all this information, little cousin?”
Richmond laughed. “My boatman, of course! Lord, you don’t imagine anything happens along the coast that Jem Hordle doesn’t know about, do you?”
“I had forgotten your boatman. Is he one of the fraternity?”
“I haven’t asked him. You should know better than to think one puts
“To be sure I do! How could I be so stupid?”
“I’ll tell you something, young Richmond!” said Claud suddenly. “You’re a dashed sight too caper-witted! If you don’t take care you’ll be made to look no-how. Ought to be sure of your boatman! What’s more, you oughtn’t to beach that yawl of yours where anyone could launch her, and not a soul the wiser. A rare mess you’d find yourself in if she was caught bringing in run goods, and it’s all the world to a handsaw that that’s just what
“I fail to see why Richmond should find himself in a rare mess because his boat was stolen and put to improper purposes, even though I’m spell-bound by your eloquence,” said Vincent. “Have you undertaken to bear- lead him as well as Hugo, by the way?”
“You needn’t be anxious, Claud!” Richmond interposed, a confident little smile playing about his mouth. “Jem would no more take my boat out without my leave than he’d rob me of my watch, and he wouldn’t let anyone else do so either.”
Claud, an expression of deep scepticism on his face, looked as though he had more to say, but as his father came into the room at that moment, the subject was allowed to drop.
Matthew, on the eve of his departure from Darracott Place, made another attempt to persuade Vincent to follow his example. He failed, for the very simple reason that Vincent’s financial embarrassments made it desirable not only that he should oblige his grandfather, but that he should be put to no living-expenditure until quarter-day came to relieve his situation. But as Vincent was well aware that Matthew strongly resented Lord Darracott’s capricious custom of bestowing on his grandsons handsome sums which he grudged to his own son, he did not present Matthew with this explanation to remain where he was plainly bored to death. In fact, he presented him with no explanation at all, a circumstance which sent Matthew back to London in a mood of anxious foreboding only partially allayed by his dependence on his lady’s ability to control what he felt to be an increasingly dangerous situation. “My dear sir,” Vincent said, “it would be so unkind—really quite barbarous!—to leave my grandfather without support in this hour of trial. I could not think of it! But do, I beg of you, remove Claud!”
But Matthew very properly ignored this request, and Claud too remained at Darracott Place. He received no encouragement from his host, nor could anyone feel that a rural existence held the slightest charm for him. Still less was it felt that he entertained any very real hope of reforming his large cousin, for his first enthusiasm had not survived the several checks he had received, and although he frequently censured Hugo’s dialectical lapses, and occasionally made an attempt to coax him into a more fashionable mode, it was certainly not to educate him that he remained in Kent. The truth was that his grandfather’s summons had made it necessary for him to refuse an invitation to make one of a very agreeable house party in quite another part of the country, so that he found himself in the position of having nowhere to go for several weeks, a return to his lodgings in Duke Street at this season being clearly ineligible. He would not have chosen to stay for any length of time at Darracott Place, but he was not bored, as was his more energetic and very much more dashing brother. Notwithstanding his sartorial ambition, Claud’s tastes were simple, and since the self-imposed strain of cutting a notable figure in the world of fashion was extremely exhausting he was really quite glad to spend a few weeks in the country, on what he referred to as a repairing lease. He was able to try the effect of various daring new quirks of fashion without having his pleasure marred by the dread of being thought by the high sticklers to have gone a little too far, for although he met with much adverse criticism in the bosom of his family, this was so ill-informed as to have no power to discompose him. His grandfather’s notions were Gothic; his father had never aspired to a place amongst the smarts; Richmond was a callow youth, knowing nothing whatsoever about matters of taste and ton; and Vincent’s contempt sprang so obviously from jealousy that he was able to ignore it. Criticism from Hugo would naturally have been beneath contempt, but Hugo never criticized his appearance: he regarded each new extravagance with awe and admiration, only once being betrayed into the expression of something in the nature of a protest. “Eh, lad, you’re never going to Rye in that rig?” he exclaimed involuntarily, when Claud came down the stairs wonderfully attired for this projected expedition.
“Certainly he is,” said Vincent, who had unfortunately come out of the library at that moment. “Claud, my dear coz, likes nothing better than to preen himself under the admiring gaze of the local population. Don’t try to deter him! So much endeavour deserves
Since he had, with his usual acumen, stated the exact truth, Claud was roused to fury, and would have favoured him with some pithy criticisms of the style he had chosen to affect that morning had not Hugo intervened, saying, as he gently but irresistibly thrust him out of the house: “Nay, if you start a flight we shan’t get to Rye at all!”
Fuming, Claud climbed up into the waiting curricle, the reins gathered in one elegantly gloved hand; Hugo got up beside him; Claud told the groom to stand away from the heads of the staid pair of horses borrowed from his grandfather’s stable, and drove off, sped on his way by an earnest entreaty from Vincent, who had strolled out of the house to watch his departure, not to put his cousin in the ditch. This shaft, however, fell wide of the target, for Claud, though by no means a Nonesuch, was well able to handle the reins in form. He instantly proved this by taking the first bend in the avenue in style, a feat which quite restored him to good-humour, since he knew Vincent to be watching him.
The road to Rye was rough, the post-road being in almost as bad a state of repair as the lane which led to it, but the journey was accomplished without mishap; and in rather less than an hour the curricle-and-pair had passed through the massive Land gate, climbed the East Cliff, and was proceeding circumspectly along the narrow, cobbled High Street to the George Inn. Here Claud gave the equipage into the charge of an ostler, for although Vincent would have unerringly negotiated the difficult turn into the yard, he wisely preferred to run no risk either of scraping his grandfather’s curricle or of creating a bad impression on those inhabitants of the town who happened to be passing at the time.
Having bespoken a luncheon at the George, he led Hugo off to show him the town, but it rapidly became apparent to Hugo that his chief object was to give the town every opportunity to see him. It was also apparent that his was a known and welcome figure in Rye, for his dawdling progress down the High Street was attended by much doffing of hats, many bobbed curtsies, and as many awed stares as would have been bent upon the Prince Regent.
