“I’ll swear you did not get much satisfaction from Jim!” said my lord. “Did he look very foolish?”
“To tell ye the truth, I thought the man was half daft, and wondered whether I’d been after making a mistake. But in the end I got him to believe what I was trying to tell him, and he has taken the mare, and will bring your baggage along this evening. By the way, John, I told him of our little meeting, and of your pistols being unloaded. He said ’twas his fault, and ye never saw aught to touch his face! Put out was not the word for it.”
“I suppose so. Look here, Miles, this is a damned funny affair!”
“What happened to you exactly?”
“ ’Tis what I am about to tell you. After I had left you, I rode on quite quietly for about an hour, and then came upon Miss Beauleigh’s coach stopped by three blackguards who were trying to drag her to another coach belonging to the gentleman who conducted the affair. So, of course, I dismounted, and went to see what was to be done.”
“You would be after poking your nose into what didn’t concern ye. Four men, and ye had the audacity to tackle them all? ’Tis mad ye are entirely!”
“Of course, if you had been in my place you would have ridden off in another direction—or aided the scoundrels?” was the scathing reply.
O’Hara chuckled.
“Well, go on, Jack. I’m not saying I don’t wish I had been with ye.”
“ ’Twould have been superb. I suppose Miss Beauleigh has told you most of the tale, but there is one thing that she could not have told you, for she did not know it: the man I fought with was Belmanoir.”
“Thunder and turf! Not the Duke?”
“Yes. Tracy.”
“Zounds! Did he know ye?”
“I cannot be certain. I was masked, of course, but he said he thought he did. ’Twas at that moment he fired his pistol at me.”
“The dirty scoundrel!”
“M’m—yes. ’Tis that which makes me think he did not know me. Damn it all, Miles, even Tracy would not do a thing like that!”
“Would he not? If ye ask me, I say that Tracy is game enough for any kind of devilry.”
“But, my dear fellow, that is too black! He could not try to kill in cold blood a man he had hunted with, and fenced with-and—and—no man could!”
O’Hara looked extremely sceptical.
“Because ye could not yourself, is not to say that a miserable spalpeen like Belmanoir could not.”
“I don’t believe it of him. We were always quite friendly—if it had been Robert now—But I am not going to believe it. And don’t say anything to these people, O’Hara, because they do not know Devil. I gather from what Miss Betty says, that he calls himself Everard. He met the girl—Diana—at Bath; you know his way. She’d none of him: hence the abduction.”
“Heavens, but ’tis a foul mind the man’s got!”
“Where women are concerned, yes. Otherwise—’tis not such a bad fellow, Miles.”
“I’ve no use for that kind of dirt myself, Jack.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I daresay we are none of us exactly saints.” He changed the subject abruptly. “How is Jenny?”
“Rather off her feed; missing you, I expect. I left her with your man. He should be arriving soon, I should think. I don’t fancy he’ll waste much time.”
“Neither do I. Poor fellow, he must have worried terribly over his worthless master.”
“Sure, his face was as white as your own when I told him ye were wounded!”
Carstares turned his head quickly.
“What’s this about my face? Just be so kind as to hand me that mirror, Miles.”
O’Hara laughed and obeyed, watching my lord’s close scrutiny of his countenance with some surprise.
“Interesting pallor, my dear friend, interesting pallor. Nevertheless, I am glad that Jim is on his way.” He met O’Hara’s eyes as he looked up, and his lips quivered irrepressibly.
“You think me very vain, Miles?”
“Is it a pose of yours, John? Is it Sir Anthony Ferndale, Bart?”
“No. I believe it is myself. You see, when one has but one’s self to live for and think for—one makes the most of one’s self! Hence my vanity. Take the mirror away, please—the sight of my countenance offends me!”
“Sure, ye are free with your orders, me lord!” said O’Hara, putting the glass down on the table. “And, while I think of it—what might your name be now?”
“John Carr—a slip of the tongue on my part, stopped in time. I hear my mentor returning—and—Miles!”
“Well?”
“Come again!”
“Come again! My dear boy, ye’ll be sick of the sight of me soon! I shall be here every day.”
“Thanks! It will take a good deal to sicken me, I think.” He bit his lip, turning his head away as Miss Betty came into the room.
“I’m afraid that you ought to leave my patient now, Sir Miles,” she said. “He has had enough excitement for one day, and should sleep.” She glanced at the averted head inquiringly. “I doubt he is tired?”
Jack turned and smiled at her.
“No, Miss Betty, I’m not. But I know you will refuse to believe me.”
“My dear boy, do you know you have black lines beneath your eyes?”
“More remarks about my face!” he sighed, and glanced at O’Hara, who had risen.
“You are quite right, Miss Beauleigh, I must go. May I come again tomorrow?”
“Surely,” she beamed. “We shall be delighted to welcome you.”
O’Hara bent over the bed.
“Then au revoir, Jack. My lady sent her love to her ‘Cousin Harry’—the saucy puss!”
“Did she? How prodigious kind of her, Miles! And you’ll give her mine, and kiss her—”
“Yes?” said O’Hara with dangerous calm. “I’ll kiss her what?”
“Her hand for me!” ended Carstares, bubbling over. “Goodbye, and thank you—”
“That will suffice!” said Miles, cutting him short.
He bowed to Miss Betty and left the room.
The businesslike little lady fluttered over to the bedside and rearranged the pillows.
“Well, and are you satisfied?”
“Madam, most extraordinarily
