A smile flitted across Robin’s face. There was a light in his eyes which made his resemblance to his father very strong. “I dare swear he was disappointed, sir.”
“I fear so, I fear so, my Robin. And was I afraid? Was there fear beneath my sangfroid? No, my son! There was a relief quite enormous. At last I knew where my letter was to be found. I do not fear the danger I can see. My Munich friend—his manners appal me; I am aghast at such a lack of polish!—had delivered himself into my hands.”
“Lord, the man’s a fool!” said Robin. “But, troth, he doesn’t know you, sir!”
“No one knows me,” said my lord austerely. “But might he not have descried that in my bearing which speaks greatness? No, he was absorbed in the admiration of his own poor wits. I descended to crush one infinitely inferior to me, and he could not even appreciate the manner in which it was done. I could wish him worthier of my enmity. Observe, my son, the deficiencies in his intelligence! He thought to obtain a promise in writing from me to pay him untold gold on the day when I am acknowledged to be Tremaine of Barham!”
“H’m!” said Robin. “An optimistic gentleman. And you said?”
“I had to open his eyes. I dispelled the illusion. A plan so subtle that almost it took my breath away formed itself in my brain. You remember, my son, those papers I told you I held?”
“Good God!” said Robin. His father began seriously to alarm him. “I remember.”
“There was one written by—you would never guess—that foolish Humphrey Grayson. A trifle: half promises which he never fulfilled. But enough for my purpose.”
“Thunder an’ turf! Was Grayson in the Rebellion?” cried Robin.
“You may say he once toyed with the notion. It came to naught. He is one of those who waits to see which way the weathervane points. That silly letter I gave to Mr. Markham in exchange for my own, which I have since burned. Do you begin to appreciate the subtlety of my plan, Robin?”
“I’m very far from appreciating it, sir. Be a little plainer! Am I to understand that you gave Markham this paper so he might force Letty into marrying him?”
My lord nodded. “You have it pat, my son.”
Robin’s brow was black. “Do you ask my appreciation of this, sir? You think I shall admire so dastardly a plot? Good God, was there no other way of getting your letter back?”
“Oh, at least a dozen!” answered his lordship airily. “I rejected them all; they were too clumsy. And I want Markham out of the way, besides. He were far better dead. You will attend to that. Consider also that this way I present you to your lady in the guise of a hero. It is a tour de force, and as such—irresistible to me!” He smiled benignantly. “Until now you are a woman in her eyes; she has no chance to fall in love with you. When you are disclosed a man she might even feel anger. But I arrange that you shall be her deliverer. In a word, I provide for your romance at the very moment of removing the last boulder from my own path. When I think on it, my son, I begin, faintly, to realize the extent of my greatness.”
For the life of him Robin could not help laughing. Faith, how like the old gentleman to choose a way so tortuous and intricate. But to place Letty in such a position—to work so on her fears—that was unpardonable. “I believe you mean well, sir, but I must censure your methods. I could have got that paper from Markham without drawing Letty in.”
“But how crude! how unworthy a scheme when placed beside mine!” protested my lord. “And you forget that I arrange this way the death of Markham. A person of such boorish manners is not fit to remain in the same world with me. You must perceive the truth of that.”
Whether Robin saw the matter in quite that light is doubtful. He was dwelling on Letty’s share of the plot, and he waxed more indignant still. “Markham held that letter over her poor little head? He was cur enough to work on her fears for her father? He forced her to agree to a fresh elopement? My God, sir, you need not be afraid that he will live many days longer!” He rose, and fell to pacing the room. His skirts rustled, and the big hoop swayed to a stride no woman would take. “Oh, I see my way! Without this I might well have hesitated to meet even an enemy of yours with the notion of killing him, sir! But this changes things; I grant you some subtlety, sir, but don’t ask me to approve a plan that involves my Letitia so damnably. When do they fly?”
“Tomorrow. That I have from our inestimable John. Change of horses has been ordered at Barnet. The strangeness of the hour made the discovery of the rest simple. Letitia goes in a party to Vauxhall Gardens. What easier to be lost in the crowd there? It will be some time before her absence is even noticed. It is really quite clever of my Munich friend to think of Vauxhall. You, my Robin, may stop them with little inconvenience to yourself on Finchley Common. You will, of course, be masked. I leave the details to you. I make no doubt you will arrange all to my satisfaction.”
Robin paused in his pacing. “I shall.” His eyes were alight. Concern for Letty had faded a little before the sheer joy of battle. He stretched his arms exultantly. “Ah, to feel a sword in my hand again!” he said, and made an imaginary pass in the air. “Not pistols—no, no, that would be clumsy. Am I not your son?”
My lord became enthusiastic. “You are, my Robin! I
