mr. kinaby's dog-cart, now that the land-steward himself was almost wholly confined to the house, was at the service of everard lisle, and he generally made use of it, if the weather happened to be bad, when he was invited to dine at the chase, thereby saving himself a long wet tramp there and back through the park.
to-day the fine forenoon had degenerated into a wet evening, and when lisle had given his horse and trap into charge of the stable help and, after divesting himself of his wet mackintosh, had made his way to the drawing-room, he found there the baronet, lady pell and miss thursby. sir gilbert, in his abrupt fashion, at once proceeded to introduce him to the ladies. after bowing to her ladyship, everard held out his hand to ethel, saying as he did so: "i have had the pleasure of meeting miss thursby on more than one occasion before to-day; in point of fact, we happen to come from the same town, st. oswyth's."
"and a very charming, old-fashioned town it is," said her ladyship; "and some of the people, whose acquaintance i made there"--with a significant glance at ethel--"i found to be quite as nice as the place."
at this moment trant entered the room with the announcement that dinner was served. "that's all very well," said sir gilbert testily, "but what has become of my grandson? where is mr. lewis? send up to his room at once, trant, and tell him that dinner is waiting." then turning to lady pell, he added: "i hate unpunctuality, especially at meal-times. it would serve the young dog right to make him go without his dinner."
"is he often behind time?" queried her ladyship.
"no, i can't say that he is. he knows that i wouldn't put up with it."
"then you can afford, for once in a way, to overlook his remissness. besides, it would be unfair to blame him before hearing what he may have to say for himself."
"oh, he'll have some plausible excuse or other, i don't doubt," growled sir gilbert. "you would be clever to catch him without one."
trant reappeared. "mr. lewis is not in his room, sir gilbert. it seems that he left the house about ten o'clock, and has not been seen since."
sir gilbert's eyebrows came together in a frown. then he shook himself, and forcing a smile, said: "in that case there is no need to wait. perhaps they have persuaded him to stay and dine at the vicarage, although, when that has been the case before, he has always sent me word." with that he offered his arm to lady pell and everard did the same to miss thursby.
when dinner was over there was no sitting out of doors as on the preceding evening. in the drawing-room, the lighted lamps, the drawn curtains and the wood fire, served as so many reminders of the dying year. this evening, out of compliment to her ladyship, sir gilbert forewent his usual game of chess. at his request ethel played and sang for upwards of an hour, during which time it was lisle's happy privilege to turn over her music and hover round her generally. between whiles sir gilbert and her ladyship, who were seated considerably apart from the young people, conversed in low tones.
ten o'clock struck all too soon for everard lisle. it was his appointed hour for leaving the chase. when he had taken leave of the ladies, sir gilbert quitted the room with him. while the dog-cart was being brought round and he was inducting himself into his mackintosh, the baronet sent a servant to ascertain whether his grandson had yet reached home. no, mr. lewis was not in his room, neither had anyone seen him, was the word brought back. "i shall sit up for him, if it be till six o'clock in the morning," said sir gilbert grimly to lisle. with that, he nodded a curt, but not unkindly goodnight, and strode back to the drawing-room.
sir gilbert's words were in everard's mind as he drove through the wind and the rain. what had become of young clare? where and by whom had he been detained? could any harm have befallen him? he did not believe much in the likelihood of his being at the vicarage all these hours; nevertheless, he would drive round there, although it would be more than a couple of miles out of his way, and should clare chance to be there, he would give him a hint that the sooner he got back to the chase the better it might be for him.
but the missing delinquent was not at the vicarage. he had left there at his usual hour, and of his after-movements neither mr. nor mrs. merton had any knowledge. "what if he has found his way to the king's head, and is still there?" said everard to himself as the vicarage door was shut behind him. "in any case, it's a point worth settling;" and with that he turned his horse's head in the direction of mapleford. rumours of luigi's frequent visits to the billiard-room of the hotel in question had come to lisle's ears, for mr. lewis clare, in virtue of his position as sir gilbert's grandson, was a personage of some consequence in the little town, and his comings and goings were not merely noted, but freely commented upon.
everard's surmise proved to be correct. he found luigi at the king's head, but not in quite as sober a condition as he might have been. it was the birthday of miss jennings, the pretty barmaid, and it had seemed to him that the occasion was one which nothing less than champagne could do justice to. there were several other young men there who were of the same opinion as mr. clare--so long as the latter was willing to pay for the wine. the sudden apparition of lisle turned luigi cold from head to foot and had the effect of partially sobering him. he did not doubt for a moment that sir gilbert had sent for him, and his limbs shook under him as, without a word of farewell to his companions, he rose in obedience to lisle's beckoning finger and followed him into the open air. "your grandfather is sitting up for you," said everard. "the longer you stay here, the longer you will keep him out of bed. let me help you into the dog-cart."
"i dare not face him," whimpered luigi. "i'd almost sooner go and drown myself."
"but you can't stay here all night," urged lisle. "you have been here far too long already, and i shall not go without taking you with me."
"he'll turn me out neck and crop, i know he will," moaned the other, with a clutch at lisle's sleeve to enable him to keep his balance.
"pooh! don't be a coward. sir gilbert's bark, as you ought to know by this time, is far worse than his bite. he will give you a good jacketing, and serve you right, and there will be an end of it."
"ah!--you don't know him; you think you do, but you don't," said luigi with the intense gravity of semi-inebriety. "yes, i'd almost sooner drown myself than face him," he whimpered for the second time.
he was indeed, as everard could not help reflecting, in no condition to be seen by his grandfather. what was the best thing to do? he stood for a moment or two considering, and then he said: "if you like to stay at my place to-night, i will find you a bed. but in that case, after leaving you there, i must drive to the chase, inform sir gilbert where you are, and make the best excuse i can for your non-appearance."
"lisle, you're a brick!" ejaculated luigi, seizing everard by both arms and making as though he would playfully shake him. "i've never liked you, you know, but to-night you've proved a regular brick.--yes, that's the card--a shake-down at your place, and you to go and make my excuses to granddad. of course you'll know what to say. suddenly taken ill on my road home--glad to take refuge anywhere--awfully sorry he's been put about--better already and hope to be all right by morning.--you know."
a sharp drive of twenty minutes brought them to elm lodge, mr. kinaby's house, where, by this time, everybody had retired for the night, for which everard was not sorry. he let himself and his companion in by means of his latch-key. his intention had been to give up his bed to luigi, but this the latter would by no means agree to, not through any unselfishness on his part, but because he felt that the trouble of undressing would be too much for him. "all i want and all i'll have is a snooze on a sofa," was his own way of putting it. accordingly, everard having provided him with a blanket and pillow, he kicked off his boots and stretched himself out on the couch in the sitting-room. half a minute later he was fast asleep.
everard, having turned down the lamp, left him. the dog-cart was waiting at the door, and ten minutes later he drew up at the main entrance to the park. nixon, the lodge-keeper, was in bed and had to be knocked up. leaving his horse and trap in the old man's charge, lisle took a bee-line across the park in the direction of the house. on reaching the terrace he saw that the entire frontage was in darkness, except that the couple of lozenge-shaped openings, high up in the shutters of the study windows showed like two dim patches of yellow light. it was evident that the baronet was keeping his word and had not yet retired.
going up to one of the windows, lisle took a coin out of his pocket and tapped with it on the glass. for a man of his years, sir gilbert's hearing was still remarkably acute, and in less than a minute the shutter was unbolted and thrown back, and in his deepest tones came the question: "who is there?" it was almost on such a night, some quarter of a century before, that alec clare had tapped at the same window, and he, sir gilbert, had put to him precisely the same question that he was putting now. he shivered as the fact recalled itself to his mind. a chill breath from the tomb seemed for a moment to lift his silvered locks.
"it is i--everard lisle," came the clear response.
with fingers that trembled somewhat, sir gilbert undid the window-fastenings, and lisle stepped into the room.
"you have brought me tidings of lewis?" was the old man's eager query.
"i have, sir gilbert. he is at my rooms at elm lodge. he is not at all well, and i have persuaded him to stay where he is till morning, in the hope that by then he will have thoroughly recovered."
sir gilbert drew himself up to his full height and grasped the young man by one shoulder. "lisle--um--um, you are trying to keep something from me," he said. "there is something in the background which you do not wish me to know. if it concerns my grandson, i must know it, and i look to you to answer my questions with that candour which up to now i have found to be one of your unfailing attributes. tell me this: did you find my grandson at elm lodge on your arrival there after leaving here?"
"no, sir, i did not."
"where did you find him?"
"i went in search of him and found him at a certain hotel in the town."
"so--so. and the worse for drink, hey?"
"he certainly had imbibed a little more wine than was good for him."
"i thought as much," was sir gilbert's stern rejoinder.
"this, perhaps, may be urged in extenuation, sir--that the occasion was a birthday-party--(mr. lewis was one among a lot more young men)--that he had had nothing to eat since breakfast, and that the very fact of his being unaccustomed to take much wine was the reason why what he had taken affected him as it did."
"you would make excuses for him, would you? leave him to do that for himself, if you please. and what is the class of young men whom he chooses for his associates? nothing better than common riff-raff, i'll be bound." then all at once his voice broke. "and it is of my grandson--the last of the clares--that these things are being said!"
everard hardly knew whether to go or stay. a minute later, sir gilbert was himself again. "i am much obliged to you, lisle," he said, "for the trouble you have taken in this wretched affair. tell my grandson to come to me in the library at ten o'clock to-morrow. till then i have no wish to set eyes on him."
when everard got back to his rooms he found luigi still sleeping soundly, and so left him for the night. but it was certainly a surprise to him when, on going down next morning between seven and eight o'clock, he found the room empty and his guest gone.
shortly after daybreak luigi had woke up with a splitting headache. as soon as he had pulled his wits together and called to mind where he was, he proceeded to empty the carafe of water which lisle had considerately placed within his reach. then he sat for a long time with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands. his heart sank within him when he thought of the inevitable interview with his grandfather which could not much longer be delayed, for he had strong doubts as to the amount of credence sir gilbert would accord to the story of his sudden illness. that he would be subjected to a severe wigging and have certain penalties of a more or less disagreeable kind imposed on him, he did not doubt; but he anticipated nothing worse than that. he had, however, another cause for disquietude which, as it seemed to him, might not improbably entail results far more dire. he was nearly sure that, in the course of the previous evening, he had made miss jennings an offer of his hand and heart, but whether she had accepted or repulsed him, or had merely treated his offer as a foolish joke, he could not for the life of him remember. but what if she had taken his offer seriously and, in the event of his repudiating it, which he would be absolutely bound to do, were to seek out his grandfather and pour her story into his ears i the consequences of her doing so were too terrifying to contemplate. "oh, what an idiot i must have been!" he groaned more than once.
somehow this morning he did not care to face lisle; so, after a time he let himself out of the house and bent his steps towards the town. he entered the first hairdresser's shop he came to, where he had what is termed a "wash and brush-up," after which he felt considerably refreshed. next to a chemist's where he called for and drank off at a draught a certain effervescing mixture which was warranted as an infallible "pick-me-up." after that he thought he would take a turn by the river and try to find an appetite for breakfast. very careful was he not to go near the king's head and miss jennings.
by this it was past nine o'clock and time for him to turn his face homeward. he had scarcely gone a dozen yards from the inn when he saw mr. kinaby's groom, whom he knew by sight, coming towards him on horseback. on nearing him the man reined up and carrying a finger to his forehead, said: "i've bin lookin' for you all over the town, sir. i've a note for you from mr. lisle."
luigi took the note and tore it open. it was merely a line. "your grandfather wants to see you in the library at ten o'clock.--e. l."
"all right," said luigi with a nod to the man. "tell. mr. lisle it shall be attended to."
