“I will go further than that,” interposed Sir Anthony. “I’ve to visit my sister, Lady Enderby, in Hampshire next week. I desire to take Mr. Merriot along with me.”
Prudence shook her head. My lord rose, and picked up his hat. “Do not meddle in my plans,” he advised them all. “Go to Richmond if you will, but await there my orders. It is not possible that suspicion should fall upon my son.”
He was right thus far, but he had reckoned without Miss Grayson. Prudence, summoned to make a deposition, could tell the gentlemen of the Law very little. Her evidence was admirably given; nothing could exceed the tranquillity of her bearing, nor the frankness of her replies. She was complimented on her share of the night’s work, disclaimed gracefully, and departed.
Miss Grayson’s evidence was of another colour. She had a worried father in support, but her self-possession was, under the circumstances, almost as creditable as Mr. Merriot’s. She listened acutely to the conflicting stories of the coachman and the postilion, and adapted her own as best she might to theirs. The tale as told by these lackeys would perhaps have surprised Robin and John. The postilion was inclined to grant Robin a height he lacked; the coachman, more cautious on this point, waxed impassioned on the subject of the unparalleled ferocity displayed by both men. The third man was the most cautious of all. He said that one man had fired at him before he could raise his blunderbuss, but although he had been forced to surrender it he had not thought the masked men ferocious. Pressed further, he deposed that the smaller man had told the lady to keep Mr. Markham covered with his own pistol, which she had done.
This produced quite a sensation. Miss Letty said with spirit:—“I did not care whether I fell into a highwayman’s hands so long as I was rid of that odious Abductor.”
It was felt that there was some sound sense displayed in this, but still it was unusual for a lady to be so completely at ease with a couple of highwaymen.
Miss Letty thought it best to adhere as closely as possible to the third man’s tale. She avowed unblushingly that the highwayman who had fought the duel was of medium height, had brown hair, and was nothing out of the ordinary in appearance. When asked if he was not, as the coachman said, a man of polished address, she seemed uncertain. She would hardly say he had polish, but she admitted he had something of the air of a gentleman. Yes, he had kissed her hand, certainly, but to her mind that was little better than an insult considering he had previously nicked her pearls from her. “Whoever it was,” she announced, “he rescued me from a monster, and I am very grateful to him.”
Faced with the question of abduction, the questioners shook dubious heads. That was a criminal offence, but murder on the King’s Highway—.
Miss Letty broke in hotly with a flat disclaimer. She turned to the coachman and demanded whether it was not a fair duel. Perceiving that his late master was in danger of being convicted—if you could convict a dead man, of which ticklish point he was not certain—of abduction, the coachman bestowed some of his support on the other side. Decidedly it had been a fair fight, so far as he was able to judge.
The affair was, in fact, a strange mystery, but the officers of the Law hoped to unravel it.
Sir Humphrey shook his head gravely when he found himself alone with his daughter, and said only that they were not likely to hear the end of this for many a long day.
XXVI
Arrest of Mr. Merriot
My Lady Lowestoft was true to her word: she bore her guests off to the Richmond house, and gave there, lest any should think the retirement suspicious, a large ball. All London came, including my Lord Barham, who was overpoweringly resplendent in silver brocade, and wonderfully benign. Sir Anthony Fanshawe was also there. He danced several times with Miss Merriot, and Mr. Molyneux was inclined to think that there was a match in that direction. Quite a number of people were of his opinion: Prudence told Robin she was growing jealous.
She had a little tussle of wills with the large gentleman that evening: he was pledged to visit his sister, and he wanted to take Prudence with him. She would have none of it; she, too, had some strength of purpose and her nay could be very steadfast.
She had, in fact, small desire to be presented to my Lady Enderby in her present guise. Sir Anthony guessed something of this, and drew a reassuring picture of his sister. She was, he said, a comfortable soul, with no respect for conventions. Still Prudence held to her refusal. To go down to Hampshire with Sir Anthony meant that she must marry him forthwith; she wanted to see first the issue of the old gentleman’s claim. Sir Anthony must be guarded against himself.
It cost her something to stand out so resolutely against him; for all her calm she was troubled, and looked wistfully when Sir Anthony ceased to press her. She had seen that expression in his face once or twice before; she remembered how at the very outset she had remarked to Robin that she would not choose to cross him. Well, it was true, and he was an ill man to withstand. But one had one’s pride after all. Egad, it was a poor love that could wish to see the gentleman pulled down to marry an adventuress. That sister of his had probably some views other than he knew of on the subject of his marriage. My Lord Barham’s daughter would be well enough; an impostor’s daughter very ill indeed.
She stood still before him, a slim figure in dove-gray velvet, one hand fingering the black ribbon that
