The Unknown Ajax

do that if he hadn’t good reason to suspect him. He’s got no proof yet, or we’d know it, but—eh, I wish the lad would come in!”

Claud’s eyes started almost from their sockets. “Are you talking about that Riding-officer I found you gabbing to at Rye? Suspects Richmond? You can’t mean that!”

“Ay, but I do mean it,” replied Hugo grimly. “There’s little would suit him better than to catch the lad red- handed—make no mistake about that!”

“He wouldn’t dare! No, no! Dash it, Hugo—a Darracott of Darracott?”

“That won’t weigh with him, if Richmond walks into a trap he’s set. Plague take the lad! I warned him that Ottershaw’s not the clodhead he thinks him, but he’s as pot-sure as he’s meedless!” He checked himself, and said, after a moment. “Well, talking will pay no toll!”

“Just so!” said Vincent. “Perhaps you’ll tell me what will pay toll!”

“Ask me that when I know where the lad is! There’s only one thing I can think of to do at this present: I’ll walk up to the Dower House—ghost-catching! Happen I might get some kind of a keening—and if I find the place is being watched, at the least we’ll know they’ve not got wind of the lad yet, for it’s there that they look for him!” He glanced at Vincent. “If I’m asked for here, you’ll have to cut some kind of a wheedle for me: we don’t want to raise a breeze! What are they doing, upstairs? Have my aunts gone to bed yet?”

“They hadn’t, when I left the room, though my Aunt Elvira was about to go. She said something about a sore throat, and feeling a cold coming on, so no doubt she’ll have retired by now. Anthea went off to find Mrs. Flitwick— something about a posset she knows how to brew!—so it’s more than likely she’s in the kitchen-quarters. Does she know?”

“No, and I don’t mean she shall! Fob her off, if she should come in here! I take it his lordship’s still up?”

“Since he and my mother were engaged in playing over again every hand about which they had—er— disagreed, you may take it that they will both be up for some time to come,” replied Vincent sardonically.

“Well, if that’s what they’re doing, they won’t be heeding aught else. I’ll be off,” Hugo said, turning to pick up his coat.

Even as he spoke, the door opened, and Anthea came hurriedly into the room, her face as white as paper. “Hugo!” she uttered breathlessly. “Please come—please come quickly! I—I need you!”

Two strides brought him to her. He saw that she was trembling, and grasped her shoulders. “Steady, lass! What is it? Nay, there’s no need to tear your cousins! Out with it, now! Is it Richmond?”

She nodded, and said, trying to command her voice: “He’s hurt—bleeding dreadfully! John Joseph says—not fatally, but I don’t know! They were cutting his coat, when I came running to find you—”

“Who were?” he interrupted.

“John Joseph, and Polyphant. Chollacombe is there too, and Mrs. Flitwick. We—she and I—went to the pantry, you see, and that’s how—John Joseph had carried him there. He w-wasn’t conscious, and his face—his face was black, Hugo! At first, I—I couldn’t think who it was! He had on a smock—”

“Oh, my God—!” exclaimed Vincent. “It’s true, then! Now what do you propose we should do, cousin?”

“Find out how badly the lad’s hurt!” Hugo answered. “Come, love! No vapours! We’re not grassed yet!”

“No—oh, no!” she said, Following him from the room. “I won’t fail! It was only the shock of—Hugo, he—he must have been smuggling! I c-can’t believe it! Richmond!”

“Keep mum for that just now, love!” he replied. “Happen we’ll bring him about.”

He was striding down the broad corridor that led from the hall to the kitchen-quarters, and she had almost to run to keep up with him. “We must, Hugo, we must! John Joseph says you’ll know how to do it. He’s washed the soot from Richmond’s face, and Mrs. Flitwick bundled that dreadful smock up, and took it away under her apron, to burn it immediately. They were so good, Hugo! They did everything—even Polyphant!”

They had reached the door leading to the kitchen-wing, and as Hugo thrust it open, Vincent, hard on his heels, demanded: “How many of the servants know about this? Is the entire household attending to Richmond?”

“No, only those three—and Chollacombe, I think,”

He uttered an impatient exclamation under his breath, but by this time Hugo had entered the pantry, and Anthea, squeezing her way in, between his massive form and the door-post, paid no heed.

Richmond, who was lying on the flagged floor, had come round. He was being supported by John Joseph, kneeling behind him, while Polyphant was waving some burnt feathers under his nose, and Chollacombe, looking very much shaken, stood rather helplessly behind Polyphant, holding a glass of brandy in his hand. Richmond’s coat had been cut off, and his shirt ripped away from his left arm and shoulder. Claud, managing to obtain a glimpse into the room over Vincent’s shoulder, recoiled, shuddering, from a scene which did, indeed, resemble a shambles. There seemed to be blood everywhere he looked, even on his valet’s immaculate raiment, and as he invariably felt queasy if he only cut his finger, he could scarcely be blamed for his hasty retreat.

John Joseph looked up under his brows at the Major, saying dourly: “Tha’ll do well to bestir thysen, Mester Hugo, if we bahn to bring t’lad out of this scuddle! Happen t’gadgers will be banging on t’door in a piece, so, if tha wants to be any hand afore, think quick!”

“How badly is he hit?” Hugo asked, putting Polyphant out of his way, and bending over Richmond.

“Nay, it’s noan so bad, but seemingly t’bullet’s lodged.” He shifted Richmond slightly, and raised the folded dishcloth he was holding over an ugly wound high up on Richmond’s shoulder. It began to bleed again, but sluggishly. Hugo saw that the blood was coming mostly from the torn flesh; and a brief scrutiny satisfied him that the bullet, which seemed to have ripped its way at an oblique angle into the shoulder, had not penetrated deeply enough to touch any vital parts. He said cheerfully: “Well, that’s the first thing to be dealt with. But we’ll have him where I can get to work on him. Nay, Anthea, a little blood-letting won’t kill him! One of you bring lights in the morning-room—you, Polyphant! I’ll want a bowl of hot water, plenty of lint, if you have it, and the brandy: take it along there, Chollacombe! Now then, you young good-like-naught!” He stooped, as he spoke, and, without apparent effort, lifted Richmond up in his arms.

Richmond, still dazed and faint, muttered: “Dragoons, I think. Two of them. Couldn’t see clearly—light bad. In the Home Wood. Must have rumbled me.”

“Out of the way, Vincent!” Hugo said, bearing his burden to the door.

“Wait, you fool!” Vincent said. “The boy’s got to be hidden! You can’t take him into the morning-room! If there were dragoons in our grounds they must have a warrant to search: we may have them upon us at any moment! They mustn’t find him here, like this!”

“Nay, we’ll have him in better shape to be looked at. Don’t be a dafthead, man! If it’s Richmond they want, the lad must be here, where he should be! There’s no hiding him: you had as well hand him over to Ottershaw without more ado! We must think of a better way out of the mess than that. Nay, sneck up, Vincent! you’re wasting time, and it may be we’ve very little of it at our disposal.”

Vincent fell back, but said angrily: “What can we possibly do but hide him? He’s led them straight to this house, dripping blood all the way, I don’t doubt, the damned little idiot, and what can we do but get him away?— out of the country, if we can!”

“I’m sorry—they were guarding the Dower House,” Richmond said, very faint still, but in a rather stronger voice. “No light in the window. That’s Spurstow’s signal. Hugo said come to him—in a tight squeeze. I was nearly caught, not far from Peasmarsh. Very tight squeeze!”

Hugo lowered him into a chair by the table in the middle of the morning-room, but kept a supporting arm round him, stretching out a hand for the brandy Chollacombe was still holding. He put the glass to Richmond’s lips, and made him swallow the draught. His face was quite calm, but a little graver than usual; he glanced round, taking note of the bowl of water Anthea had set down on the table, of the lint, and the torn sheets Mrs. Flitwick was assembling; and said, his eyes coming to rest on his groom: “How do you come into this, John Joseph? Were you seen with Mr. Richmond?”

“Nay, I was nobbut taking a stroll, and smoking my pipe, I heard t’shot, but I never saw hair nor hide of any dragoon, nor gadger neither.”

“I shook them off. Only got a glimpse of me,” Richmond said, wincing under Hugo’s hands. “Thought I could