 CHAPTER VI. BATH. TWENTY-NINE, QUEEN-SQUARE, PART II. OF BLACKMOTH, BY GEORGET HIRE. REDFORLEE BRAVOX.ORGAN TO THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. SHE WAS UP AGAIN AT THAT. IN LOVE. YOU. NONSENSE. NONSENSE. NONSENSE. You do not know what the word means. You are like—like a fish, with no more hope of love in you than a fish, and no more heart than a fish, and—spear me the rest, I beg. I am very clammy, I make no doubt, that you will at least accord me more brain than a fish. Oh, you have brain enough," she raged, "'brain for evil, I'll grant you that.' It is really very kind of you. The passion you feel now is not love. It is—it is—your pardon, my dear, but at the present moment I am singularly devoid of all strenuous emotions. So your remark is—'Oh, Tracy, Tracy, am I even quarreling with you?' she said wretchedly. Oh, why? Why? You are entirely mistaken, my dear. This is but the interchange of compliments. Pray, do not let me hinder you in the contribution of your share." Her lip trembled. "'Go on, Tracy, go on.' "'Very well. I had described her eyes, I think. Very tediously. I will strive to be brief. Her lips are the most kissable that I've ever seen, and, as you remarked, you have experienced,' she murmured. He bowed, ironically. Altogether she's as spirited apheles you could wish for. All she needs is bringing to heel. Does one bring a filly to heel? I rather thought, as usual, my dear LaVinia, you are right—one does not. One breaks in a filly. I beg leave to thank you for correcting my mixed metaphor." "'Oh, pray do not mention it.' "'I will cease to do so. She needs breaking in. It should be amusing to tame her.' "'Should it?' she looked curiously at him. Vastly, and I am persuaded it can be done. I will have her. But what if she'll none of you?' Only the heavy lids were raised. She will have no choice.' Lady LaVinia shivered and sat up. "'La, Tracy! Well, you have no sense of decency. I suppose,' she sneered, you think, to kidnap the girl.' "'Exactly,' he nodded. She gasped at the effrontery of it. "'Heavens, are you mad? Kidnap a lady! The snow-peasant girl remember. Tracy, Tracy, pray do not be foolish. How can you kidnap her?' "'That, my dear, is a point which I have not yet decided. But I do not anticipate much trouble. But goodness gracious me has the child no protectors, no brothers, no father.' "'There is a father,' said Tracy, solely. He was here at the beginning of their stay. He does not signify, and which is important, he is of those that truckle. Where I to make myself known to him I believe I might marry the girl within an hour. But I do not want that. At least not yet.' "'Good God, Tracy, do you think you are living in the Dark Ages? One cannot do these things now, I tell you. Will you at least remember that you represent our house? It will be a pretty thing, and there is a scandal.' She broke off hopelessly and watched him flick a remnant of snuff from his cravat. "'Oh, Tracy, tis indeed a dangerous game you play. Pray consider.' "'Really, Levinier, you are most entertaining. I trust I am capable of caring for myself and my own honour.' "'Oh, don't sneer, don't sneer,' she cried. Sometimes I think I quite hate you. You would be the more amusing, my dear.' She swept the back of her hand across her eyes in a characteristic movement. "'How cross I am,' she said, and laughed, waveringly. "'You must bear with me, Tracy, indeed. I am not well.' "'You should take the waters,' he repeated. "'Oh, I do, I do. And that reminds me that I must look for your beauty.' "'She is not like to be there,' he answered, tis only very seldom that she appears. "'What? Is she then really juice?' "'Really juice? Why in heaven's name? But not to walk to the rooms. She is staying here with her aunt, who has been ill. They do not mix much in society. How very dreadful! Yet she used to walk in the rooms for you met her there.' "'Yes,' he admitted coolly, tis for that reason that she now avoids them. "'Oh, Tracy, the poor child!' exclaimed his sister in a sudden fit of pity. How can you persecute her if she dislikes you?' "'She does not.' "'Not, then!' Rather, she fears me. But she is intrigued for all that. I persecute her, as you call it, for her own and my ultimate good. But they quit bath in a few days, and then—' "'Nous vers-en!' he rose. What a honest dick!' "'Don't call him by that odious name. I will not have it.' "'Odeous, my dear! Odeous! You would have reason, and I called him dishonest dick!' "'Don't! Don't!' she cried, covering her ears.' His grace laughed softly. "'Olivinia, you must get the better of these muggrooms of yours, for there is not that sickens a man sooner, believe me.' "'Oh, go away! Go away!' she implored. "'You tease me and tease me until I cannot bear it, and, indeed, I do not mean to be shrewish. Please go!' "'I am on the point of doing so, my dear. I trust you will have, in a measure recovered, when I next see you. Pray bear my respects to the Honourable Richard!' She stretched out her hand. "'Come again soon,' she begged. I shall be better to-morrow. "'Tis only to-day that my headaches till I could shriek with the worry and the pain of it. Come again!' "'Unfortunately I anticipate leaving Bath within a day or two, but nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to comply with your wishes.' He kissed her hand punctiliously and took his leave. At the door he paused and looked back mockingly. "'By the way, her name is Diana.' He bowed again and swept out, as Levinia buried her face in the cushions and burst into tears. It was thus that Richard found her, twenty minutes later, and his concern was so great that it in part restored her spirits, and she spent a quiet and, for him, blissful evening, playing at P.K. In the midst of a game she suddenly flung down her hand and caught at his wrist. "'Ticky! Ticky! I will go home!' "'Go home? What do you mean? Not—' "'Yes! Yes! Wyncham! Why not? My dear, do you mean it?' His voice quivered with joyful surprise, and the cards slipped from his hands. "'Yes, I mean it. But take me quickly before I change my mind. I can sleep at Wyncham, and here I lie awake all night in my headaches. Take me home, and I will try to be a better wife. Oh, Dicky, have I been tiresome and exacting. I do not mean to be. Why do you let me?' She came quickly round the table and knelt at his side, giving no heed to the crumpling of her billowing silks. "'I have been a wicked, selfish woman,' she said vehemently. "'But indeed, I will be better. You must not let me be bad. You must not, I tell you.' He flung his arm about her plump shoulders and drew her tightly to him. "'When I get you home at Wyncham, I promise you I will finally hector you, sweetheart,' he said, laughing to conceal his deeper feelings. "'I shall make you into a capital housewife.' "'And I will learn to make butter,' she nodded. "'Then I must wear a dimedy gown with a muslin apron and cap. "'Oh, yes, yes, a dimedy gown!' She sprang up and danced to the middle of the room. "'Shall I not be charming, Richard?' "'Very charming, Lavinia.' "'Of course. We will go home at once, at once. But first I must procure some new gowns from Marguerite.' "'To make butter in, dear,' he protested. She was not attending. "'A dimedy gown! Or shall it be of Tiffany with a quilted petticoat? Or both?' she chanted. "'Dicky, I shall set a fashion in country toilettes.'" CHAPTER VII. Introducing Sundry New Characters, Part I of Black Moth by Georgette Hire. Red for Libravox.org into the public domain. Not twenty minutes' walk from Lady Lavinia's house in Queen's Square resided a certain Madame Thompson, a widow who had lived in Bath for nearly fifteen years. With her was staying Miss Elizabeth Bolle and her niece Diana. Madame Thompson had been at seminary with Miss Elizabeth when both were girls, and they had ever afterwards kept up their friendship, occasionally visiting one another, but more often contenting themselves with the writing of lengthy epistles, full of unimportant scraps of news and much gossip, amusing only on Miss Elizabeth's side and on the widows uninteresting and rambling. It was a great joy to Madame Thompson when she received a letter from Miss Bolle, begging that she and her niece might be allowed to pay a visit to her house in Bath and to stay at least three weeks. The good lady was delighted at having her standing invitation at last accepted, and straightway wrote back a glad ascent. She prepared her very best bed-chamber for Miss Bolle, who she understood was coming to Bath principally for a change of air and a scene after a long and rather trying illness. In due course the two ladies arrived, the elder very small and thin and bird-like in her movements, the younger moderately tall and graceful as a willow-tree, with great candid brown eyes that looked fearlessly out onto the world, and a tragic mouth that bled a usually cheerful disposition, and hinted at a tendency to look on the gloomy side of life. Madame Thompson, whose first meeting with Diana this was, remarked on the sad mouth to Miss Elizabeth, or Betty as she was more often called, as they sat over the fire on the first night, Diana herself having retired to her room. Miss Betty shook her head darkly and prophesied that her precious die would one day love some man as no man in her opinion deserved to be loved. And she'll have loved badly, she said, clicking her knitting-niggles energetically. I know these temperamental children. She looks so melancholy, ventured the widow. Well, there you're wrong, replied Miss Betty, to the sunniest tempered child and the sweetest natured in the whole world bless her. But I don't deny that she can be miserable. Far from it. Why, I've known her weep her pretty eyes out over a dead puppy even. But usually she is gay enough. I fear this house will be dull and stupid for her, said Madame Thompson regretfully. If only my dear son George were at home to entertain her. My love, pray do not put yourself out. I assure you Diana will not at all object to a little quiet after the life she has been leading in town this winter with her friend's family. Whatever Diana thought of the quiet she at least made no complaint and adapted herself to her surroundings quite contentedly. In the morning they would all walk as far as the assembly rooms, and Miss Betty would drink the waters in the old pump room, pacing sedately up and down with her friend on one side and her niece on the other. Madame Thompson had very few acquaintances in Bath, and the people she did know were all of her own age and habits, rarely venturing as far as the crowded, fashionable quarter. So Diana had to be content with the society of the two old ladies, who gossiped happily enough together, but whose conversation she could not but find singularly uninteresting. She watched the moaned with concealed wistfulness, seeing bonache strut about among the ladies, bowing with his extreme gallantry, always impeccably garbed, and in spite of his rapidly increasing age and bulk, still absolute monarch of Bath. She saw fine painted madams in enormous hoops, and with their hair so extravagantly curled and powdered that it appeared quite grotesque, mincing along with their various cavaliers, elderly bows with coats padded to hide their shrunken shoulders and paint to fill the wrinkles on their faces, young rakes, stout dowagers with their demure daughters, old ladies who had come to Bath for their health's sake, titled folk of fashion and plain gentry from the country, all parading before her eyes. One or two young bucks tried to ogle her, and received such indignant glances from those clear eyes that they never dared to annoy her again, but for the most part no one paid any heed to the unknown and plainly clad girl. Then came his grace of and over upon the stage. He drew Diana's attention from the first moment that he entered the pump room, a black moth amongst the gaily-hewed butterflies. He had swept a comprehensive glance round the scene and at once perceived Diana. Somehow, exactly how she could never afterwards remember, he had introduced himself to her aunt and won that lady's goodwill by his smoothness of manner and polished air. Madame Thompson, who, left to herself, never visited the assembly rooms, could not be expected to recognize Devil Belmanois in the simple Mr. Everard who presented himself. As he had told his sister, Diana was cold. There was something about his grace that repelled her even while his mesmeric personality fascinated. He was right when he said that she feared him, she was nervous, and the element of fear gave birth to curiosity. She was intrigued and began to look forward to his daily appearance in the pump room with mingled excitement and apprehension. She liked his flattering attention and his grand air. Often she would watch him stroll across the floor, bowing to right and left with that touch of insolence that characterized him, and rejoiced the knowledge that he was coming straight to her and that the painted beauties who so palpably ogled and invited him to their sides could not alter his course. She felt her power with a thrill of delight and smiled upon Mr. Everard, giving him her hand to kiss and graciously permitting him to sit with her beside her aunt. He would point out all the celebrities of town and bath for her edification, recalling carefully chosen and still more carefully censured anecdotes of each one. She discovered that Mr. Everard was an entertaining and harmless enough companion, and even expanded a little, allowing him a glimpse of her whimsical nature with its laughter and its hint of tears. His grace of Andover saw enough to guess at the unsounded depths in her soul, and he became loverlike. Diana recoiled instinctively, throwing up a barrier of reserve between them. It was not what he said that alarmed her, but it was the way in which he said it, and the vague something in the purring, faintly sinister voice that she could not quite define that made her heart beat unpleasantly fast and the blood rushed to her temples. She began first to dread the morning promenade and then to avoid it. One day she had a headache, the next day her foot was sore, another time she wanted to work at her fancy stitchery, until her aunt, who knew how she disliked her needle and how singularly free from headaches and all petty ailments she was want to be, openly taxed her with no longer wishing to walk abroad. They were in the girl's bedroom at the time. Diana was seated before her dressing-table, brushing out her hair for the night. When her aunt put the abrupt question she hesitated, caught a long strand in her comb, and pretended to be absorbed in its disentanglement. The clouds of rippling hair half hit her face, but Miss Betty observed how her fingers trembled and repeated her question. Then came the confession. Mr. Everard was unbearable, his attentions were odious, his continued presence revolting to Mr. Stuy. She was afraid of him, afraid of his dreadful green eyes and of his soft voice. She wished they had never come to bath and still more that they had not met him. He looked at her as if—as if—oh, in short, he was hateful. Miss Betty was horrified. You cannot mean it! Dear, dear, dear, here I was thinking what a pleasant gentleman he was, and all the time he was persecuting my poor die, the wretch. I know the type, my love, and I feel inclined to give him a good peace of my mind. Oh, no, no! implored Diana. Indeed, you must do no such thing, auntie. He has said not that I could possibly be offended at, tis but his manner and the—the way he looked at me. Indeed, indeed, you must not. Tutt-tutt, child, of course I shall say not. But it makes me so monstrous angry to hear of my poor lamb being tormented by such as he that I declare I could tear his eyes out. Yes, my dear, I could. Thank goodness we are leaving bath next week. Yes, sigh Diana. I cannot help being glad, though Madam Thompson is very amiable, tis so very different when there is no man with one. You are quite right, my love. We should have insisted on your father staying with us instead of allowing him to fly back to his fusty, musty old volumes. I shall not be so foolish another time, I can assure you, but we need not go to the assembly rooms again. I need not go, corrected Diana gently. Of course you and Madam Thompson will continue to. To tell the truth, my love, confess, Miss Betty, I shall not be sorry for an excuse to stay away. Tis doubtless, most ill-natured of me, but I cannot think that Hester has altered sadly since I last saw her. She was always talking of sermons and good works. Diana twisted her luxuriant hair into a long plate and gave a gurgling little laugh. Oh, auntie, is it not depressing? I wondered how you can tolerate it. She is so vastly solemn, poor dear thing. Well, said Miss Betty charitably, she has seen trouble, has Hester Thompson, and I have my doubts about this George of hers. A worthless young man I fear from all accounts. But, unkind, though it may be, I shall be glad to find myself at home again, and that's the truth. She rose and picked up her candle. In fact, I find bath not half so amusing as I was told would be. Diana walked with her to the door. Tis not amusing at all when one has no friends, but last year, when my cousins were with us and Papa took a house for the season on the North Parade, T'was most enjoyable. I wish you had been there, instead of with that disagreeable aunt Jennifer. She kissed her relative most affectionately and lighted her across the landing to her room. Then she returned to her room and shut the door, giving a tired little yawn. It was at about that moment that his grace of handover was ushered into the already crowded card-room of my Lord Avon's house in Catherine Place, and was greeted with ribald cries of, Oh, ho! Belmenois! And where's the lady, devil? He walked coolly forward into the full light of a great pendant chandelier, standing directly beneath it, the diamond order on his breast burning and winking like a living thing. The diamonds in his cravat and on his fingers glittered every time he moved, until he seemed to be carelessly powdered with iridescent gems. As usual he was clad in black, but it would have been difficult to find any other dress in the room more sumptuous or more magnificent than his sable satin with its heavy silver lining and shimmering waistcoat. Silver lace adorned his throat and fell in deep ruffles over his hands, and in defiance of fashion, which decreed that black alone should be worn to tie the hair, he displayed long silver ribbons very striking against his unpowdered head. He raised his quizzing-glass and looked round the room with an air of surprise tattooer. Lord Avon, leaning back in his chair at one of the tables, shook a reproving finger at him. Belmenois, Belmenois, we have seen her, and we protest she is too charming for you. Indeed, I think we should be allowed a share in the Lady's Smiles, list one from behind him, and his grace turned to face dainty, effeminate little Viscount Fotheringham, who stood at his elbow, resplendent in salmon-peak satin and primrose velvet, with skirts so full and stiffly whale-boned that they stood out from his person, and heels so high that instead of walking he could only mince. Tracy made a low leg. Surely you shall have a share in her Smiles, and she wills it so, he purred, and a general laugh went up which caused the fob to flush to the ears as he speedily effaced himself. He had been one of those who had tried to accost Diana, and gossip-loving Will Stapley, with him at the time, had related the story of his disconfiture to at least half a dozen men, who immediately told it to others, vastly amused at the pertinacious Viscount's rebuff. What was it so when said, drawled Sir Gregory Markham shuffling cards at Lord Avon's table. Davinot looked across at him inquiringly. George, of Belmenois, when? Oh, at White's one night. I forget. Jack Chalmonly was there. He would know. And Horry Walpo. Twas of devil in his light of loves. Quite apt on the whole. Chalmonly looked up. Did I hear my name? I. What was it George said of Belmenois, White's, the night Gilly made that absurd bet with Fuliat? And Gilly—oh, yes, I remember. Twas but an old hexameter tag, playing on his name. Est bellum bellus bellum bellerapulis. He seemed to think it a fitting motto for a ducal house. There was another general laugh at this. Markham broke in on it. Who is she, Tracy? His grace turned. Who is who? he asked, languidly. End of Chapter 7, Part 1 Chapter 7 Introducing Sundry New Characters Part 2 of Black Moth by Georgeette Hire Read for LibreVox.org into the Public Domain Lord Avon burst out laughing. Oh, come now, Belmenois. That won't do. It really will not. Who is she, indeed? I, Belmenois, who is the black-haired beauty, and where did you find her? cried Tom Wilding, pressing forward with a glass in one hand and a bottle of port in the other. I thought she were captivated by Cynthia Evans. Tracy looked bewildered for the moment and then a light dawned on him. Evans! Ah, yes! The saucy widow who lived in Kensington, was it not? I remember. He had forgotten, cried Avon, and went off on another of the noisy laughs that had more than once caused Mr. Nash to shudder and to close his august eyes. You'll be the death of me, devil. God but you will. Oh, I trust not. Thank you, Wilding. He accepted the glass that Tom offered and sipped delicately. But you've not answered, reminded Fortescu from another table. He dealt the cards round expertly. Is it hands-off, perhaps? Certainly replied his grace. It generally is, Frank, as you know. To my cost was the laughing rejoinder, and Fortescu rubbed his sword arm as if in memory of some hurt. You pinked me finally, Tracy. Clumsily, Frank, clumsily, it might have been quicker done. The vicount, who had been a second at the meeting, tittered amably. Needest thing I ever saw, upon my honour, all over in less than a minute, Avon, give you my word. Never knew you had fought devil, Frank, what possessed you. I was more mad than usual, I suppose, replied Fortescu in his low, rather dreamy voice, and I interfered between Tracy and his French singer. He objected most politely, and we fought it out in Hyde Park. God, yes, exclaimed his partner, Lord Falmouth, why I was devil's second, but it was ages ago. Two years, not at Fortescu, but I have not forgotten, you see. Lord, I had, and was the funniest fight I ever saw, with you as furious as could be, and devil as cool as a cucumber. You were never much of a swordsman, Frank, but that morning you thrust so wildly that stopped me if I didn't think devil would run you through. Instead of that he pinks you through the sword arm, and damned if you didn't burst out laughing, fit to split. And then we all walked off to breakfast with you, Frank, as jolly as sand boys. Heavens, yes, that was a fight. It was amusing, admitted Tracy at Fortescu's elbow. Don't play, Fortescu flung his cards face downwards on the table. Curse you, Tracy, you've brought bad luck, he said entirely without ranker. I had quite tolerable hands before you came. Belmenois, I will stake my chestnut mare against your new grey. List the vi-count, coming up to the table, dice-box in hand. Stout me, but that is too bad, cried Wilding. Don't take him, devil. Have you seen the breed? The four players had finished their card-playing and were quite ready for the dice. Trust in your luck, Belmenois, and take him, advised Prichard, who loved hazarding other men's possessions, but kept a tight hold on his own. I take him, echoed Falmouth. Don't, said Fortescu. Of course I shall take him, answered his grace tranquilly. My grey against your chestnut and the best of three. We throw. The vi-count rattled his box with a flourish. Two threes and a one turned up. With a hand on Fortescu's shoulder and one foot on the rung of his chair, Tracey leaned forward and cast his own dice onto the table. He had beaten the vi-count's throw by five. The next toss fathering him one, but the last fell to his grace. Damnation, said the vi-count cheerfully. Will you stake your grey against my terror? Thunder and turf, fathering him, you'll lose him, cried Nettlefold warningly. Don't stake the terror. Nonsense! Do you take me, Belmenois? Certainly, said the duke and threw. Oh, and you're in a gaming mood. I will play for the right to try my hand with the dark beauty, cried Markham, across the room. Against what? asked Fortescu. Oh, what he wills! The vi-count had cast and lost, and his grace won the second throw. It appears my luck is in, he remarked. I will stake my beauty against your estates, Markham. Sir Gregory shook his hand, laughing. No, no, keep the lady. I intend to, my dear fellow. She's not your style. I begin to wonder whether she altogether suits my palette. He drew out his snuff-box and offered it to his host, and the other men, finding that he was proof against their railing, allowed the subject to drop. In the course of the evening his grace won three thousand guineas, two at ombre and one at dice, lost his coveted grey hunter and won him back again from wilding to whom he had fallen. He came away at three o'clock, in company with Fortescu, both perfectly cool-headed, although his grace, for his part, had imbibed a considerable quantity of burgundy, and more punch than any ordinary man could take, without afterwards feeling very much worse the wear. As my Lord Avon's door closed behind them, Tracy turned to his friend. Shall we walk, Frank? Since our ways lie together, yes, replied Fortescu, linking his arm in the dukes, down Brock Street and across the circuses our quickest way. They strolled down the road for a few moments in silence, passing a link-man on the way. Fortescu bid him a cheery good-night, which was answered in a very beery voice, but the duke said nothing. Frank looked into his dark brown face thoughtfully. You've had the luck to-night, Tracy. Moderately, I hoped entirely to repair last week's losses. You are in debt, I suppose. I believe so. To what extent, Tracy? My dear fellow, I neither have nor wish to have the vaguest notion. Pray do not treat me to a sermon. I shall not. I've said all I have to say on the subject. Many times. Yes, many times. And it has had no more effect upon you than if I had not spoken. Less! I daresay, I wish it were not so, for there's good in you somewhere, Tracy. By what strange process of reasoning do you arrive at that? Well, said Fortescu, laughing, there's nearly always some good in the very worst of men. I count on that, and your kindness to me. I should be interested to know when I have been kind to you, beyond the time when I was compelled to teach you to leave me in my affairs alone. I was not referring to that occasion, was the dry answer. I had not seen your act in that light. I meant well over the episode. You could not damn yourself more effectually than by saying that, said his grace calmly. But we wander from the point. When have I done you an act of kindness? You know very well, when you extricated me from that cursed sponging-house. I remember now. Yes, that was good of me. I wonder why I did it. Tis what I want to know. I suppose I must have had some sort of an affection for you. I would certainly never done such a thing for anyone else. Not even for your own brother, said Frank sharply. They had crossed the circus and were walking down Gay Street now. Least of all for them, came the placid response. You are thinking of Andrew's tragic act. Most entertaining, was it not? You evidently found it so. I did. I wanted to prolong the sensation, but my esteemed brother-in-law came to the young fool's rescue. Would you have assisted him? In the end I fear I should have had to. I believe there must be a kink in your brain, cried for your test-cue. I cannot else account for your extraordinary conduct. We Belmenois were all half-mad, replied Tracy sweetly, but I think that in my case it is nearly concentrated evil. I will not believe it. You have shown that you can behave differently. You do not try to strip me of all I possess. Why all those unfortunate youths do you play with? You see, you possess so little, the Duke excused himself. Neither do you sneer at me in your loathsome fashion. Why? Because I hardly ever have any desire to. I like you. Taran-owns! You must like someone else in the world besides me. I can think of no one, and I do not exactly worship the ground you tread on. The contemplation of my brothers appalls me. I have loved various women, and shall no doubt love many more. No, Tracy, interpose for test-cue. You have never loved a woman in your life. Tis that that might save you. I do not allude to the lustful passion you indulge in, but real love. For God's sake, Belmenois, live clean. I do not distress yourself, Frank. I am not worth it. I choose to think that you are. I cannot but feel that if you had been loved as a boy—your mother. Did you ever see my mother, inquired his grace lazily? No, but—have you ever seen my sister? Uh, yes. In a rage? Really, I—because if you have, you have seen my mother. Only she was ten times more violent. In fact, we were of pleasant party when we were all at home. I understand. Good God! I believe you are sorry for me!" cried Tracy scornfully. I am. Is it a presumption on my part? My dear Frank, when I am sorry for myself, you may be sorry, too. Until then, when that day comes, I shall no longer pity you. Very deep, Frank. You think I shall be on the road to recovery? A pretty conceit. Luckily, the happy moment has not yet come, and I do not think it is like to. We appear to have arrived. They were standing outside one of the tall houses where Fortescu lodged. He turned and grasped his friend's shoulders. Tracy, give up this mad life you lead. Give up the women and the drink and the excessive gaming. For one day, believe me, you will overstep yourself and be ruined." The duke disengaged himself. I very much object to being manhandled in the street, he complained. I suppose you still mean well. You should strive to conquer the tendency. I wonder if you know how insolent is your tone, Belmanois? Fortescu steadily. Naturally, I should not have attained such perfection in the art else. But pray accept my thanks for your good advice. You will forgive me, and I do not avail myself of it, I am sure. I prefer the crooked path. Evidently, sighed the other, if you will not try the straight and narrow way, I can only hope that you will fall very deeply and very honestly in love, and that the lady will save you from yourself. I will inform you of it when it comes to pass, promised his grace. And now, good night. Good night," Frank returned, the low bow with a curtain on. I shall see you to-morrow, that is, this morning at the baths. Sufficient unto the days the evil thereof, was the smiling rejoinder, sleep soundly, Frank. He waved an ironic farewell and crossed the road to his own lodgings, which stood almost directly opposite. And I suppose you will sleep as soundly as if you had not a stain on your conscience, and had not tried your uttermost to alienate the regard of the only friend you possess, remarked Frank bitterly to the darkness. Do you, Tracey, for the villain you are?" He walked up the steps to his own front door and turned the key in the lock. He looked over his shoulder as a door slammed across the street. Poor devil, he said. Oh, you poor devil! End of Chapter 7, Part 2 CHAPTER VIII. THE BIDER-BIT. PART I. OF BLACK MOTH. BY GEORGET HIRE. REDFORLEE BRAVOX.ORG. INTO THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. With John Carstairs the winter had passed quite uneventfully. He continued his highway robbery, but he made too bad blunders. Not from the point of view of a thief, but from that of the gentleman in him. The first was when he stopped an opulent-looking chariot which he found to contain two ladies, their maid and their jewels, and the second when the occupant of a large traveling coach chanced to be an old gentleman who possessed far greater courage than physical strength. On the first occasion my lord's dismay had been ludicrous, and he had hastily retired after attendering a naive apology. The old gentleman in the second episode had defied him so gallantly that he had impulsively offered him the butt-end of one of his pistols. The old man was so surprised that he allowed the weapon to fall to the ground, where it exploded quite harmlessly, sending up a cloud of dust and smoke. Carstairs then begged his pardon most humbly, assisted him back into his coach, and rode off before the astonished Mr. Dunbar had time to collect his wits. The robbing was not carried out in a very scientific manner, for as has been seen Carstairs could not bring himself to terrorize women or old men, and there remained only the young and middle-aged gentleman, one of whom Jack offered to fight for the possession of his jewels. His challenge was promptly accepted by the man, who happened to possess a strong sense of humor, and probably saw a chance of saving his belongings in the offer. He had been speedily worsted, but Carstairs was so pleased with the particularly neat thrust which he had executed that he forwent half the booty, and the pair of them divided the contents of the jewel box by the roadside, the sporting gentleman keeping his most valued belongings and giving Jack the surplus. They parted on the very best of terms, and all Carstairs got out of the episode was a little sword practice and a few trinkets. When day came he was patrolling the west side of Sussex, beyond Midhurst, not because he thought it a profitable part, but because he knew and loved the country. One late afternoon towards the end of the month he rode gaily into one of the small villages that nestle among the downs, and made his way down the quaint main street to the George Inn, where he drew rain and dismounted. At his call an aged Osler hobbled out of a side door, chewing an inevitable straw, and after eyeing the newcomer and his steed for an appreciable length of time, evidently decided that they were worthy of his attention, for he came forward remarking that it had been a pleasant day. Carstairs agreed with him, and volunteered the information that it would be another fine day to-morrow if the sunset were to be trusted. To this the Osler replied that he, for one, never trusted no red sunsets, and added darkly that there warn't nothing so deceitful to his manner of thinking. He'd known it to be such a red sunset as never was, and yet be a-pouring with rain all the next day. Should he take the mare? Carstairs shook his head. No, thank you. I remain here but a few minutes. I doubt she's thirsty enough, eh, Jenny? Water, sir. For her, yes. For myself I fancy a tankard of your home-brewed ale. Stand, Jenny. He turned away and walked up the steps to the indoor. Be you a-going to leave her there, sir, a-standin' all by herself? inquired the man, surprised. Why, yes, she's docile enough. Well, seems to me a risky thing to leave a-hoss, and a skittish-hoss at that, a-standin' loose in the road. You won't be tiein' her to a post, master? Carstairs leaned his arms on the valley-strade and looked down at them. I will not. She'd be very hurt at such treatment, wouldn't you, lass? Jenny tossed her head playfully, as if in agreement, and the Osler scratched his head, looking from her to my lord. Almost seems as if she understands what you be a-sayin', sir. Of course she understands. Don't I tell you to the clever little lady? If I call her now she'll come up these steps to me, and not all the Oslers in Christendom could stop her. Don't you go for to do it, sir? urged the old man, backing. She must be uncommon fond, eh, ye? She'd be a deal-fonder if you'd fetch her a drink, hinted Jack broadly. Hi, sir. I be a-goin' this weary instant. And with many an anxious glance over his shoulder at the perfectly quiet mare, he disappeared through an open doorway into the yard. When car-stairs, tankful of ale in hand, emerged from the inn and sat himself down on one of the benches that stood against the wall, the mare was drinking thirstily from a bucket which the ancient one held for her. Tis a wonderful fine mare, sir, he remarked at length, after a careful inspection of her points. Car-stairs nodded pleasantly and surveyed Jenny through half-shut eyes. I think so every time I look at her, he said. I should think she could get a bit of a pace on her, sir. Maybe you've tried her racing? No, she wasn't brought up to that, but she's fast enough. Aye, sir, no vices? Lord no! Don't kick neither? Not with me? Ah, they always knows who'll stand it and who won't. Jack drained his tankard, and setting it down on the bench beside him rose to his feet. She'd not dream of kicking a friend, Jenny. The Osler watched her pick her way towards her master, and sidling around him in the most playful manner possible. A slow smile dawned on the man's face. Ah, it'd be a pretty sight to watch her, so be it, he said, and received a guinea from Jack, who never tired of listening to praise of his beloved Jenny. Car-stairs remounted, nodded farewell to the Osler and rode leisurely on down the street, soon branching off to the right into a typical Sussex lane, where he trotted between uneven hedges, sweet with blossom and with may, and placid fields rolling away on either side, upwards until they merged into the undulating hills, barely discernable in the gloom that are the downs. It was a wonderfully calm evening, with only a gentle west wind blowing, and the moon already shining faintly in the dark sky. There was nothing beyond the sound of the mare's hooves to break the beautiful stillness of it all. He rode for some way without meeting a soul, and when at the end of an hour someone did chance along the road, it was only a labourer returning home to a supper after a long day in the fields. John bade him a cheery good evening, and watched him pass on down the road humming. After that he met no one. He rode easily along for miles into the fast gathering darkness. He was frowning as he rode, thinking. Curiously enough it was on his penniless days in France that his mind dwelt this evening. He had resolutely thrust that dark time behind him, determined to forget it, but there were still days when, try as he might, he could not prevent his thoughts flying back to it. With clenching teeth he recalled the days when he, the son of an earl, had taught fencing in Paris for a living. Suddenly he laughed harshly, and at the unusual sound the mare pricked up her ears and sidled uneasily across the road. For once no notice was taken of her, and she quickened her pace with a flighty toss of her head. He thought how he, the extravagant John, had pinched and scraped and saved rather than go under, how he had lived in one of the poorer quartiers of the city, alone without friends, nameless. Then cynically now he reviewed the time when he had taken to drinking, heavily and systematically, and had succeeded in pulling himself up at the very brink of the pit he saw yawning before him. Next, the news of his mother's death. John passed over that quickly. Even now the thought of it had the power of rousing in him all the old misery and impotent resentment. His mind sped on to his Italian days. On his savings he had traveled to Florence, and from there he went gradually south, picking up all the latest arts and subtleties of fence on the way. The change of scene in people did much to restore his spirits. His devil may care ways peeped out again. He started to gamble on the little money he had left. For once fortune proved kind, he doubled and trebled and quadrupled the contents of his purse. Then it was that he met Jim Salter, whom he engaged as his servant. This was the first friend since he had left England. Together they travelled about Europe, John gambling his way, Jim keeping a relentless hand on the ex-checker. It was entirely owing to his watchfulness and care that John was not ruined, for his luck did not always hold good, and there were days when he lost with distressing steadiness. But Jim guarded the winnings jealously, and there was always something to fall back on. CHAPTER VIII. THE BIDERBIT. PART II. OF BLACK MOTH. BY GEORGET HIRE. Red for LibriVox.org into the public domain. At last the longing for England and English people grew so acute that John made up his mind to return. And he found that things in England were very different from what they had been abroad. Here he was made to feel acutely that he was outcast. It was impossible to live in town under an assumed name as he would like to have done, for too many people knew Jack Cartstairs and would remember him. He saw that he must either live secluded, or, and the idea of becoming a highwayman occurred to him. A hermit's existence he knew to be totally unsuited to a man of his temperament, but the free, adventurous spirit of the road appealed to him. The finding of his mare, Jay III, as he laughingly dubbed her, decided the point. He forthwith took on himself the role of chaotic highwayman, roaming his beloved South Country, happier than when he had first left England, bit by bit regaining his youth and spirits, which last, not all the trouble he had been through had succeeded in extinguishing. CLIP CLAP. CLIP CLAP. With a jerk he came back to earth and reigned in his mare, the better to listen. Along the road came the unmistakable sound of horses' hooves, and the scrunch-scrunch of swiftly revolving wheels on the sandy surface. By now the moon was right out, but owing to the fact that she was playing at hide-and-seek in and out of the clouds it was fairly dark. Nevertheless, Jack fastened his mask over his face with quick deft fingers, and pulled his hat well over his eyes. His ears told him that the vehicle, whatever it was, was coming towards him, so he drew into the side of the road, and taking a pistol from its holster sat waiting, his eyes on the bend in the road. Nearer and nearer came the horses, until the leader swung round the corner. Carstairs saw that it was an ordinary travelling chariot and leveled his pistol. Halt! Where I fire! He had to repeat the command before it was heard, and to ride out from the shadow of the hedge. The chariot drew up and the coachman leaned over the side to see who it was bidding them to stop and so peremptory a manner. What do you want? Who are you? Is there autumn mist? He cried testily, and found himself staring at a long-nosed pistol. Throw down your arms! I ain't got none, Blastya! On your honour? Jack dismounted. I wish I had, and I'd see a dam before I'd throw him down. At this moment the door of the coach opened, and a gentleman leapt lightly down onto the road. He was big and loose-limbed as far as car-stairs could see, and carried himself with an easy grace. My lord presented his pistol. Stand! he ordered gruffly. The moon peeped coyly out from behind a cloud and shed her light upon the little group, as if to see what all the fuss was about. The big man's face was in the shadow, but Jack's pistol was not. Into its muzzle the gentleman gazed, one hand deep in the pocket of his heavy cloak, the other holding a small pistol. Me very dear friend, he said in a rich brogue, perhaps she are not aware that the same pistol you are pointing at me is unloaded. Don't move! I have you covered. Jack's arm fell to his side, and the pistol he held clattered to the ground. But it was not surprise at Jim's defection that caused him a violent start. It was something far more overwhelming. For the voice that proceeded from the tall gentleman belonged to one whom, six years ago, he had counted, next to Richard, his greatest friend on earth. The man moved a little, and the moonlight shone full on his face, clearly outlining the large nose and good-humored mouth, and above the sleepy gray eyes. Miles! Miles O'Hara! For once Jack had found nothing amusing in this situation. It was too inconceivably hideous that he should meet his friend in the skies and further be unable to reveal himself. A great longing to tear off his mask and to grasp Miles's hand assailed him. With an effort he choked it down and listened to what O'Hara was saying. If you'll be so kind as to be your word of honour, you'll not be after trying to escape. I should be greatly obliged. But I tell you first that if he attempt a move I shall shoot. Jack made a hopeless gesture with his hand. He felt dazed. The whole thing was ridiculous. How Miles would laugh afterward. He went cold. There would be no afterwards. Miles would never know. He would be given over to the authorities, and Miles would never know that he'd helped Jack car-stairs to the scaffold. Perhaps too he would not mind so very much. Now that he, Jack, was so disgraced. One could never tell, even if he risked everything now and told his true identity, Miles might turn away from him and disgust. Miles, who could never stoop to a dishonourable act, car-stairs felt that he would bear anything sooner than face this man scorn. Never tell me to the dumb man-yare, for I heard you shout myself. Do you give me your word of honour, or must I have you bound? Car-stairs pulled himself together and set his teeth as he faced the inevitable. Escape was impossible. Miles would shoot, he felt sure, and then his disguise would be torn away, and his friend would see that Jack car-stairs was nothing but a common highwayman. Whatever happened, that must not be, for the sake of the name and Richard. So he quietly held out his hands. I, I give my word, but she can bind me if you choose. It was his highwayman voice, raucous and totally unlike his own. But O'Hara's eyes were fixed on the slender white hands held out to him. In his usual haphazard fashion, Jack had quite forgotten to grime his hands. They were shapely and white, and carefully manicured. Miles took either wrist in his large hands and pulled them palm upwards in the moonlight. Singularly white hands you have, for one in your profession, he drawled, and tightened his hold as Jack tried to draw them away. No, you do not. Now be so good as to step within, my friend. Jack held back an instant. My mare? He asked, and O'Hara noted the anxiety in his voice. You need not be worrying after her, he said. George?" The footman sprang forward. Yes, sir. You see that mare? I want you to ride her home. Can you do it? Yes, sir. I doubt it, murmured Jack. So did Jenny. She refused point-blank to allow this stranger to mount her. Her master had left her in one spot, and there she would stand until he chose to bid her moot. In vain did the groom coax and coerce. She ran around him and seemed to transform to creature. She laid her ears flat and gnashed at the bit, ready to lash out furiously at the first opportunity. Jack watched the man's futile struggles with the ghost of a smile about his lips. Jenny, he said quietly, and O'Hara looked around at him sharply, frowning. Unconsciously he had spoken naturally, and the voice was faintly familiar. Jenny twitched the bridle from the perspiring groom and minced up to the prisoner. Would you allow me to have a hand-free, sir? He asked. Maybe I can manage her. Without a word, miles released him, and he caught the bridle, murmuring something unintelligible to the now quiet animal. O'Hara watched the beautiful hand stroke her muzzle reassuringly and frowned again. No ordinary have-um in this. Mount her now, Willie. Jack flung at the groom, and kept a warning hand on the rain as the man obeyed. With a final pat he turned away. She'll do now, sir. O'Hara nodded. You've trained her well. Get in, please. Jack obeyed, and in a minute or two O'Hara jumped in after him, and the coach began to move forward. For a while there was silence, car-stairs keeping himself well under control. It was almost unbearable to think that after this brief drive he would never set eyes on his friend again, and he wanted so badly to turn and to grasp that strong hand. Miles turned in his seat and tried to see the masked face in the darkness. You are a gentleman, he asked, going straight to the point. Jack was prepared for this. Me, sir? Lord, no, sir. I do not believe you. Don't be forgetting I've seen your hands. Hands, sir, in innocent bewilderment. Sure you don't think I'd be believing you in ordinary rogue with hands like that. I don't rightly understand you, sir. But Jabber's, then, you'll be understanding me to-morrow. To-morrow, sir? Certainly. You may as well tell me now as then. I'm not such a daft fool as I look, and I know a gentleman when I see one, even and he does growl at me as you do, he chuckled, and not an odd feeling I knew you when he spoke to the mayor. I'd be lost to send a friend to the gallows. How well Jack knew that soft, persuasive voice. His hands clenched as he forced himself to answer. I don't think I've seen you afore, sir. Maybe you have not. We shall see to-morrow. What do you mean by to-morrow, sir? ventured car-stairs uneasily. Sure you will have the honour of appearing before me, my friend. Before you, sir. Why not? I'm a justice of the peace. Heaven save the mark. There was a breathless pause, and then, at last, the funny side of it struck Jack, and his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. The exquisite irony of it was almost too much for him. He, the Earl of Winchem, was to be formally questioned by his friend St. Miles O'Hara, J.P. What ails you now, man? You find it amusing? Asked Miles, surprised. Oh, l- yes! Gasped Jack, and collapsed into his corner. End of Chapter 8, Part 2 Chapter 9 Lady O'Hara intervenes. Part 1 of Black Mod by George Ed Hire. Lady O'Hara found that her big, indolent husband was unusually silent next morning at breakfast. She had not been married long enough to consent to being practically ignored, no matter what the time of day, but she had been married quite long enough to know that before she took any direct action against him, she must first allow him to assuage his appetite. Accordingly she plied him with coffee and eggs, and with a satisfied and slightly motherly air watched him attack a sirloin of beef. She was a pretty, bird-like little lady, with big eyes and soft brown curls, escaping from under a demure but very becoming modcap. She measured five-foot-nothing in her stockings, and was sometimes referred to by her large husband as the midget. Needless to say, this flippant appellation was in no wise encouraged by the lady. She decided that Miles had come to the end of his repast, and planting two dimpled elbows on the table, she rested her small chin in her hands and looked across at him with something of the air of an inquisitive kitten. Miles—O'Hara leaned back in his chair, and at the side of her fresh prettiness his brow cleared and he smiled. Well, as Thor—a approachful finger was raised and a pair of red lips pouted adorably. Now, Miles, confess you've been vastly disagreeable this morning. Twice I have spoken to you, and you've not trouble to answer me. Nay, let me finish. And once you growled at me like a nasty bear. Yes, sir, you did. Did I now, Molly? Does the surly brute you're after thinking me then? Troth and I've been sore-perplexed, my dear. Lady O'Hara got up and sidled around to him. Have you so, Miles? He flung an arm about her and drew her down onto his knee. Sure, yes, Molly. Well, then, Miles, had you not better tell me what it is that troubles you? She coaxed, laying a persuasive hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at her. "'Tis just an inquisitive push you are—again, the pout. And you should not pout your pretty lips at me if you are not wanting me to kiss them," he added, suiting the action to the word. "'But, of course, I do,' cried my lady, returning the kiss with fervor. Nay, Miles, tell me. I see you mean to have the whole tail out of me, so—to be sure I do,' she nodded. He laid a warning finger on her lips and summoned up a mighty frown. Now, will you be done interrupting me, my lady? Without a wit abashed, she bit the finger, pushed it away, and folding her hands in her lap, cast her eyes meekly heavenwards. With a twinkle in his own eyes the Irishman continued, "'Well, Alana, you must know that yesterday evening I was at Kilroy's on a matter of business. And that reminds me, Molly, we had a hand or two at Farrow before I left, and I had very distressing luck.' On a sudden my lady's jamure air vanished. Is that so, Miles? I make no doubt the states were prodigious high. Pray how much have you lost? Reached, darling? Tis a mere trifle, I assure you. Well, as I was saying, on me way home, what should happen but that would be held up by one of those highwomen?' My lady's eyes widened in horror, and two little hands clutched at his coat. "'Oh, Miles!' his arm tightened around her waist. "'Sureest, though, I'm still alive to tell the tale, though tis not far I'll be getting with you interrupting at every moment. But, Miles, how terrible! You might have been killed. And you never told me. Trus monstrous wicked of you, darling!' "'Faith, Molly, how should I be telling you when Trus yourself that was fast asleep?' "'Now, will you wished?' She nodded obediently and dimpled. "'Well, as I say, here was this man standing in the road, pointing his pistol at me. But will you believe me, my love, when I tell you that that same pistol was as empty as my own?' Here he was shaken with laughter. "'Lord, Molly, Trus, the trollest thing. I had me pistol in me hand, knowing Trus unloaded, and wondering what the devil, saving your presence, was to do next. My deal struck me that I should try to bluff me fine, sir. So I cried out that his pistol was unloaded, and completely took him by surprise. Sure he hadn't had time to ask him how the devil I should be knowing that. He dropped it in the road. After— "'Miles, you are becoming very Irish.' "'Never say so, Elana. After that twist simple enough, and me Lord gave in. He held out his hands for me to bind, and ear-sweared his puzzling, Molly. I saw that they were a prodigious sight too white and fine for an ordinary high-women. So I taxed him with it. Twas a gentleman in disguise. How splendid, Miles! Will you hold your tongue astore, and not be a spoiling mystery on me? Oh, indeed, I am sorry. I will be good.' And he started and seemed monstrously put out. What's more, my dear, I heard him speak to his mayor in an ordinary gentleman's voice. Molly, you never saw the like of that same mayor, the sweetest. Pray, never mind the mayor, dear. I am all agog to hear about the gentleman high-women. Very well, me love, though Twas a prodigious fine mayor. When I heard him speak it flashed across my brain that I knew him. No, you don't, Molly. His hand was over her mouth as he spoke, and her eyes danced madly. But I could not for the life of me think where I had heard that voice. Twas but the one word I heard him speak, you understand. And when I held his wrist I felt that Twas no stranger. And yet, to his impossible, when I got him within the coach, how imprudent he might have wished now, but when I got him within the coach I tried to worm his identity out of him. But Twas to no avail. But when I told him he would have to appear before me today, he went off into a fit of laughing till I wondered what he was at at all. And not another word. Could I get out of him after beyond? Yes, sir, and no, sir. Still, I felt that Twas a gentleman all the same, so I— He was enveloped in a rapturous embrace. You tear miles, you let him escape. Sure, Lana, is it myself that we do in the like. Me a justice of the peace with all. I told him not to handcuff me, Lord. Oh, I do so wish you had let him escape, but if it is really a gentleman you will. I will not then assure I'll be sending him to await the asaises. You are very cruel then. But me darlin', and I wish to get off your knee. He drew her close. I'll see what can be done for your protege, Mully, but don't be forgotten he tried to kill the only husband you have. He watched the effect of this with that humorous twinkle in his eye, but my lady was not to be put off. With an empty pistol—fie on you miles, and may I hide behind the screen while you question him? You may not, but I wish so much to see him. O'Hara shook his head with an air of finality she knew full well. However easygoing and good-natured her husband might be, there were times when he was impervious to all blandishments. So after darkly hinting that she would be nearer than he imagined, she gave up the contest to go and visit young Master David in his nursery. CHAPTER IX Lady O'Hara intervenes, part II of Black Moth by George Atire, red for Libravox.org into the public domain. For some time in lock-up, car-stairs had cuddled his brain to think out a possible mode of escape next day, but try as you might he could light on nothing. If only miles were not to question him, it was hardly likely that he would be allowed to retain his mask, yet therein lay his only chance of preserving his incognito. He prayed that by some merciful providence O'Hara would either fail to recognize him, or would at least pretend that he did not. Having decided that there was nothing further to be done in the matter, he lay down on his extremely hard pallet and went to sleep as if he had not a care in the world. Next morning, after a long and wordy argument with the head jailer on the subject of masks, he was hailed and triumphed to the house. As the little cavalcade was about to ascend the steps that led to the front door, my Lady O'Hara came gaily forth carrying a basket and a pair of scissors, and singing a snatch of song. At the side of the high-women the song broke off and her red lips formed a long-drawn, oh! She stood quite still on the top step, gazing down at my Lord. The two jailers stood aside to allow her to come down, just as a greyhound darted up the steps and flung itself against her in an exuberance of joy. My Lady, none too securely balanced, reeled, and the basket fell from her arm, her foot missed the next step, and she tumbled headlong down. But in the flash of an eyelid car-stairs had sprung forward and received her in his arms. He lowered her gently to the ground. I trust you are not hurt, madam," he asked, and retrieved her basket, handing it to her. Molly took it with a smile. I thank you, sir, not at all, though I fear I should have injured myself quite considerably had you not been so swift in catching me, to his most kind of view, I am sure. She extended her small hand, and her eyes devoured him. For a moment my Lord hesitated, and then, sweeping off his hat, he bowed low over the hand. "'Twas less than nothing, madam,' he said in his own cultivated voice. I beg you, we'll dismiss it from your mind." He straightened himself as the jailers came forward and put on his hat again. Lady O'Hara stepped aside and watched them disappear into the house. Her cheeks were rather flushed and her eyes suspiciously bright. Suddenly she nodded her head decisively, and throwing away her luckless basket hurried across the lawn and entered the house through a long window. My Lord was conducted to the library, where O'Hara sat awaiting him, and slouched forward with his hands stretched deep in his pockets and his hat still on his head. The head-jailer eyed him gloomily, and looked pained when car stairs with studied boorishness leaned carelessly against a fine carved table. "'We have refrained from handcuff and the prisoners, sir, at your orders,' he said in a tone that warned O'Hara, that should harm come of it, on his head be the blame. Miles nodded. "'Quite right,' he said pleasantly, and glanced at the cloaked and masked figure before him, with more suspicion than ever. "'But I regret to have reported very obstinate behaviour on part of the prisoner, sir,' added the jailer impressively. "'Indeed,' said Miles gravely, "'how so?' Jack controlled an insane desire to laugh and listen to the jailer's complaint. "'You see the prisoner, sir, with that great mask on his face? Before we set out to come here, I told him to take it off. And he refused, sir, seeing as how you gave no hoarders, I did not force him to obey. "'Ah, your name, please?' John Smith, sir, answered car stairs promptly and hoarsely. O'Hara wrote it down with a skeptical smile on his lips that Jack did not quite like. "'Perhaps you will have the goodness to unmask?' There was a momentary silence. "'Why, sir, I thought you might allow me to keep it on. But did you now? I will not be allowed any such thing. "'But, sir, to his impossible, off with it. Sir!' "'If you don't take it off, I shall ask these men to assist you,' warned Miles. "'May I not speak with you alone, sir,' pleaded Jack. "'By now O'Hara was greatly intrigued. You may not, unmask.' He was leaning a half across the table, his eyes fixed on Jack's face. With a quaint little laugh that made O'Hara's brows contract swiftly, my lord shrugged his shoulders, French fashion, and obeyed. The mask and hat were tossed lightly on the table, and Miles found himself gazing into a pair of blue eyes that met his half defiantly, half imploringly. He drew in his breath sharply in the thin ivory rule he held, snapped suddenly between his fingers. And at that crucial moment a door behind him that had stood a jar was pushed open, and my Lady O'Hara came tripping into the room. The two jailers and her husband turned at once to see who it was, while Jack, who had recognized her, but had not the least idea who she was, fell to dusting his boots with his handkerchief. O'Hara rose and for once looked severe. "'What?' he began and stopped, for without so much as a glance at him, my Lady ran towards the prisoner, crying, "'Harry! Oh, Harry!' Jack gathered that he was the person addressed, and instantly made her an elaborate leg. The next moment she was tugging at the lapels of his coat with her face upturned to his. "'Harry, you wicked boy!' she cried, and added beneath her breath. "'My name is Molly.'" A laugh sprang to my Lord's eyes, and his beautiful smile reappeared. In a stupefied fashion O'Hara watched him steal an arm about her waist, and placed a hand beneath her chin. The next instant a kiss was planted full on the little lady's lips, and he heard Jack Carstairs's voice exclaim, "'Fie on you, Molly, for a spoilsport. Here I had fooled Miles to the top of my bent and pawn rep. He scarcely knows me yet!' My Lady disengaged himself, blushing. "'Oh, Miles, you do know Harry, my cousin Harry.'" O'Hara collected his scattered wits and rose nobly to the occasion. "'Of course I do, my dear, though at first he gave me such a shock I was near dumbfounded. You are a mad, scatterbrained fellow to play such a trick upon us, devil take you!' He laid his hands on Jack's shoulders. "'Pray, what did you do it for, boy?' Jack's brain worked swiftly. "'Why, Miles, never tell me you forgot our wager. Did I not swear I'd have you at a disadvantage to be even with you for that night at Jasper's? But what must do you but see my pistol was unloaded, and make me lose my wager? Still, it was worth that night and a night in jail to see your face when I unmasked.'" O'Hara shook him slightly, laughing, and turned to the two amazed jailers. The senior jailer met his humorous glance with a cold and indignant stare and gave a prodigious sniff. "'My good fellows,' drawled Miles, "'I'm mighty sorry to see you've been worried over my young cousin here. He's fooled us all, it appears, but now there's not to be done in the matter, though I've a mind to send him to await the next sessions.' He slipped a guinea into each curiously ready palm, and replied to the head-jailer's haughty bow with a pleasant nod. In silence he watched them leave the room, shaking their heads over the incomprehensible ways of the gentry. Then he turned, and looked across at car-stairs. CHAPTER X. All three actors in the little comedy listening to the heavy footsteps retreating down the passage, car-stairs with one arm still around my lady's waist and a rather strained look on his face. Molly instinctively felt that something beyond her ken was in the air, and glanced fearfully up at the white face above her. The expression in the blue eyes fixed on her husband made her turn sharply to look at him. She found that he was staring at my lord as though he saw a ghost. She wanted to speak, to relieve the tension, but all words stuck in her throat, and she could only watch the denouement breathlessly. At last O'Hara moved, coming slowly towards them, reading John's countenance. Some of the wonder went out of his face, as if he sensed the other's agony of mind. He smiled suddenly, and, as if he sensed the other's agony of mind, he smiled suddenly and laid his hands once more on the straight, stiff shoulders. Jack, you rascal, what do you mean by hugging and kissing me wife under me very eyes? Molly all at once remembered the position of her cousin Harry's arm, and gave a little gasp, whisking herself away. My lord put out his hands and strove to thrust his friend off. Miles, don't forget, don't forget what I am. The words were forced out, but his head was held high. Taran oansman, and is it myself that'll be caring what you may or may not be? Oh, Jack, Jack, I'm so pleased to see you, that I can scarce realize, tis yourself I'm looking at. When did you come to England, and what a plague are you doing in that costume? He jerked his head to where John's mask lay, and rung the hands he held as though he would never stop. I've been in England a year, as to the mask. He shrugged and laughed. Lady O'Hara pushed in between them. But please, I do not understand," she said plaintively. Carstairs bowed over her hand. May I be permitted to thank you for your kindly intervention, my lady, and to congratulate Miles on his marriage? She dimpled charmingly and curtsied. Her husband caught her round the waist. I, the saucy minx, am me cousin Harry for sooth, if it had been anyone but Jack, I should be angry with you, sure, for it was a wicked trick to play entirely. She patted his hand and smiled across at Jack. Of course, I would never have done such a forward thing had I not known that he was indeed a gentleman, and had he not saved me from sudden death, she added as an afterthought. Miles looked sharply around at her, and then it car stares. What's this? My lady exaggerates, smiled my lord. Tis merely that I had the honour to catch her as she fell down the steps this morning. O'Hara looked relieved. You are not hurt, Lanna. Gracious, no. But I had to do something to show my gratitude, and I was sure that you had never exposed my fraud, so I—but, as a sudden thought struck her, you seem to know my highwaymen. Sure an' I do, Molly. Tis none other than Jack car stares of whom you have often heard me speak. She turned round eyes of wondermen upon my lord. Can it be? Is it possible that you are my husband's dearest friend, Lord John? Jack flushed and bowed. I was once, madam, he said stiffly. Once! She scoffed. Oh, if you could but hear him speak of you! But I'll let you hear him speak to you, which perhaps you'll enjoy more. I know you've a prodigious great deal to say to one another, so I shall run away and leave you alone. She smiled graciously upon him, blew an airy kiss to her husband, and went quickly out of the room. Car stares closed the door behind her and came back to O'Hara, who had flung himself back into his chair, trying, manlike, to conceal the excitement he was feeling. Come, sit ye down, Jack, and let me have the whole story. My lord divested himself of his long cloak and shook out his hither-tooth-tucked-up ruffles. From the pocket of his elegant scarlet writing-coat he drew a snuff box which he opened languidly. With his eyes risking quizzically on O'Hara's face he took a delicate pinch of snuff and minced across the room. Miles laughed. What's this? This, my dear friend, is Sir Anthony Ferndale, Bart. He bowed with great flourish. You look it, but come over here, Sir Anthony Ferndale, Bart, and tell me everything. Jack perched on the edge of the desk and swung his leg. Well, really, I do not think there is much to tell that you do not already know, Miles. You know all about Dare's card-party, for instance, precisely six years ago. Just just exactly what I do not know, retorted O'Hara. You surprised me. I thought the tale was rife. Now, Jack, will you have done drawing at me? Don't be forgetting I'm your friend. But are you? If you know the truth about me, do you feel inclined to call me friend? There never was a time when I would not have been proud to call you friend, as you would very well have known had you been up but a damned young hothead. I heard that crazy tale about the card-party, but do you think I believed it? It was the obvious thing to do. Maybe, but fancy I know you just a little too well to believe any cock-and-bull story I'm told about you. And even if I had been fool enough to have believed it, do you think I'd be going back on you? Sure, Tis, but a poor friend I'd be. Jack stared down at the tobe's right-boot in silence. I know something more than we guessed happened at that same party, and I have me suspicions, but to your affair and whatever you did you had your reasons for, but Jack, why in the name of wonder must you fly off to the devil alone knows where without so much as a good-bye to any one? Carstairs never raised his eyes from the contemplation of that boot. He spoke with difficulty. Miles, in my place, would you not have done the same? Well, you know you would. Was it likely that I should inflict myself on you at such a time? What would you have thought of me had I done so? O'Hara brought his hand down smartly on the other's knee. I'd have thought you'd less of a young fool. I would have gone away with you, and nothing would have stopped me. CHAPTER TEN LADY O'HARA RETIRES PART TWO OF BLACK MOTH BY GEORGET HIRE RED FOR LIBERVOX.ORG INTO THE PUBLIC DOMAIN Jack looked up and met his eyes. I know. It was the thought of that, and I could not be sure. How should I know whether you would even receive me? Last night—last night—was horribly afraid. The hand on his knee tightened. You foolish boy! You foolish boy!" Bit by bit he drew the story of the past six years out of car-stairs, and though it was a very modified version, Miles understood his friend well enough to read between the lines. "'And now,' said Jack, when the recital was over, tell me about yourself, when did you marry the attractive lady whom I have just been kissing?' "'You rogue! I married Molly three years ago. It is a real darlin' she is, isn't she? On upstairs there's a little chap—your godson.' "'You lucky fellow—my godson,' you say. Could you not find any one more worthy for that? I want to see him.' "'So you shall presently. Have you seen Richard?' "'A year ago I held up his coach. To his dark, and I could scarce see him, but I thought he seemed aged.' "'Aged? You wouldn't be after knowing him. Tis an old man he is. Though I sweart his no wonder with that hussy about the house. Lord Jack, you were well out of that affair with her, Carstairs nursed his foot reflectively. Lavinia, what ails her? Not that I know of—save it be her shrewish temper. Tis a dog's life she leads, poor Dick. Do you mean to say she does not love Dick? Cannot say. Sometimes she's as affectionate as you please, but at others she treats him to a fine exhibition of rage, and the money she spends. Of course she married him for what she should get. There was never anything else to count with her.' Jack sat very still. And any one but a young fool like yourself would have seen that. A gleam of amusement shot into the wistful blue eyes. Probably. Yourself, for instance? O'Hara chuckled. Oh, hi! I knew. T'was the money she was after all along. And now there's not so much, it seems, as Dick won't touch a penny that belongs to you. Hmm! Warburton told me—foolish of him. A grunt was the sole response. Jack's eyes narrowed a little as he gazed out of the window. So Lavinia never cared. Lord would a mix-up. And Dick? I'm afraid he still does. Poor old Dick. Devil take the woman. Does she bully him? I know what he is. Always ready to give in. I am not so sure. Yet I'll swear if T'were not for John his life would be a misery. He misses you, Jack. Who is John? Did not Warburton tell you? John is the hope of the house. He's four-and-a-half and has spoiled a little rascal as you could wish for. Dick's child? Good Lord! I, Dick's child, and your nephew. He broke off and looked into the other's face. Jack, cannot this mystery be cleared up? Couldn't you go back? He was clasping Jack's hand, but it was withdrawn, and the eyes looking down into his were suddenly bored and a little cold. I know of no mystery, said Carstairs. Jack, old man, will you be after shutting me out of your confidence? A faint sweet smile curbed the fine lips. Let us talk of the weather-miles, or my mare, anything rather than this painful subject. With an impatient movement O'Hara flung back his chair and strode over to the window with his back to my lord. Jack's eyes followed him seriously. If you cannot trust me, sure I have no more to say than," flashed O'Hara, it seems you did not value your friends too highly. My lord never said a word, but the hand that rested on the desk clenched suddenly. O'Hara wheeled about and came back to his side. Sure, Jack, I never meant that. Forgive me a bad temper. Carstairs slipped off the table and straightened himself, linking his arm in the Irishman's. Whist, myles, as you'd say yourself, he laughed. I know that. Tis not that I don't trust you, but I understand. I'll not ask any more about it at all. Instead answer me this. What made you come out with unloaded pistols? The laugh died out of Carstairs' face. Oh, just carelessness, he answered shortly, and he thought of the absent gym with a tightening of the lips. T'was that very same reason with myself, then. Jack stared at him. Myles, don't tell me yours were unloaded, too? Deed and they were. He got Jacked is the best joke I've heard for a twelve-month. They both started to laugh. Short was bluff on my part, Jack, when I told you yours was unloaded, and my lady was determined to set you free from the moment I told her all about it this morning. We were sure you were no ordinary high-women, though it was a fool not to have known you right away. But now I've found you out. You'll stay with us, cousin Harry? I cannot thank you enough, Myles, but I will not do that. I must get back to Jim. And who the devil is, Jim? My servant. He'll be worried nigh to death over me. Nay, do not press me. I could not stay here, Myles. You must see for yourself, Tis, impossible. Jack Carstairs does not exist. Only Anthony Ferndale is left. Jack, dear man, can I not—no, Myles, you can do nothing, though Tis like you to want to help, and I do thank you. But—oh, well—what about my mare? Play take me if I'd not forgotten. Jack, that scoundrel of mine let her strain her fetlock. I'm damned sorry. Poor Jenny. I'll swear she gave him an exciting ride, though. I'll be trying to buy her off you, Jack, if I see much of her. Tis a little beauty she is. I'm not selling, though I intended to ask you to keep her, if—a quick pressure on his arm arrested him. That will do. I'm too heavy for her, anyway. So was that devil of a groom you put on her. I—I'm a fool. I always knew that. Wish now, Jack. You'll have to take one of my nags while she heals if you won't stay with us. Can you trust her to me a week, Tis, suppose? I don't know. It seems that though I must—oh, I retract, I retract. You are altogether too large. The day is hot, and my cravat too nicely tied. He gad, Myles, I wish—oh, I wish we were boys again, and—yes. When may I see your son in air? Sure, you may come now and find Mully, who'll be aching for the sight of you. After you, Sir Anthony Ferndale. Bart. End of Chapter 10, Part 2. Red by Cibella Denton. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 11. My Lord Turns Rescuer and Comes Nigh to Losing His Life, Part 1 of Black Moth by George Ed Hire. Red for LibriVox.org into the Public Domain. Late that afternoon, car-stairs left Thur's house on one of his friend's horses. He waved a very regretful farewell to O'Hara and his lady, promising to let them know his whereabouts and to visit them again soon. O'Hara had extracted a solemn promise that if he ever got into difficulties he would let him know. For I'm not letting you drift gaily out of my life again and that's flat. Jack had assented gladly enough, to have a friend once more with such bliss, and he had given Myles the name of the inn and the village where he could find him, for O'Hara had insisted on bringing the mare over himself. So car-stairs rode off to Trenchham and to Jim with the memory of a very hearty handshake in his mind. He smiled a little as he thought of his friend's words when he had shown himself reluctant to give the required promise. You obstinate young devil, you'll do as I say in no nonsense or you don't leave this house. For six years no one had ordered him to obey. It had been he who had done all the ordering. Somehow it was very pleasant to be told what to do, especially by Myles. He turned down a lane and wondered what Jim was thinking. That he was waiting at the green man he was certain, for those had been his orders. He was annoyed with the man over the incident of the pistols, for he had inspected them and discovered that they were indeed unloaded. Had his captor been other than O'Hara, on whom he could not fire, such carelessness might have proved his undoing. Apart from that, culpable negligence always roused his wrath. A rather warm twenty minutes was in store for Salter. For quite an hour car stairs proceeded on its way with no mishaps nor adventures, then suddenly, as he rounded a corner of a deserted road, little more than a cart-track, an extraordinary sight met his eyes. In the middle of the roads stood a coach, and by it, covering the men on the box with two large pistols, was a seedy-looking ruffian, while two others were engaged in what appeared to be a life-and-death struggle at the coach-door. Jack reigned in his horse and rose in his stirrups to obtain a better view. Then his eyes flashed, and he whistled softly to himself. For the cause of all the turmoil was a slight, graceful girl of not more than nineteen or twenty. She was frenziedly resisting the efforts of her captors to drag her to another coach, further up the road. Jack could see that she was dark and very lovely. Another elderly lady was most valiantly impeding operations by clawing and striking at one of the men's arms, scolding and imploring all in one breath. Jack's gaze went from her to a still, silent figure at the side of the road in the shadow of the hedge, evidently the stage manager. It seems I must take a hand in this, he told himself, and laughed joyously, as he fixed on his mask and dismounted. He tethered his mount to a young sapling, took a pistol from its holster, and ran softly and swiftly under the lee of the hedge up to the scene of disaster, just as the man who covered the unruly and vociferous pair on the box made ready to fire. Jack's bullet took him neatly in the neck, and without a sound he crumpled up, one of his pistols exploding harmlessly as it fell to earth. With an oath the silent onlooker wheeled round to face the point of my lord's gleaming blade. Carstairs drew in his breath sharply in surprise as he saw the white face of his grace of Andover. Damn you! said Tracey calmly, and sprang back, whipping out his own rapier. Certainly! agreed Jack pleasantly. On guard, Monsieur Le Duc. Tracey's lips curled back in a snarl. His eyes were almost shut. Over his shoulder he ordered curtly. Keep watch over the girl. I will attend this young jack-a-nabes. On the word the blades clashed. Jack's eyes danced with a sheer joy of battle, and his point snicked in and out wickedly. He knew Tracey of old for an expert swordsman, and he began warily. The girl's persecutors retained a firm hold on either arm, but all their thoughts were centred on the duel. The men on the box got out their blunder-bus, ready to fire should the need arise, and the girl herself watched breathlessly, red lips apart, and eyes aglow with fright, indignation, and excitement. As for the old lady, she positively bobbed up and down, shrieking encouragement to car-stairs. The blades hissed continuously against one another. Time after time the Duke thrust viciously, and ever his point was skillfully parried. He was absolutely calm, and his lips sneered. Who it was that he was fighting he had not the faintest idea, he only knew that his opponent had recognized him and must be speedily silenced. Therefore he fought with deadly grimness and purpose. Car-stairs, on the other hand, had no intention of killing his grace. He had never liked him in the old days, but he was far too good natured to contemplate any serious bloodshed. He was so used to Tracey's little affairs that he had not been filled with surprise when he discovered who the silent figure was. He did not like interfering with Belmenois, but on the other hand he could no more stand by and see a woman assaulted than he could fly. So he fought on with the idea of disarming his grace so as to have him at a disadvantage and to be able to command his withdrawal from the scene. Once he fainted cleverly and lunged and a little blood trickled down over the Duke's hand. No sign made Belmenois, except that his eyelids flickered a moment and his play became more careful. Once the Duke thrust in tears and Jack's sword-arm wavered an instant and a splash of crimson appeared on his sleeve. He for the most part remained on the defensive, waiting for the Duke to tire. Soon his gracious breath began to come unevenly and fast and beads of moisture started on his forehead. Yet never did the sneer fade nor his temper go. He had himself well in hand, and although his face was livid and his brain on fire with fury, no trace of it showed itself in his sword play. Then Carstairs changed his tactics and began to put into practice all the arts and subtleties of fence that he had learned to broad. He seemed made of steel and set on wires, so agile and untireable was he. Time after time he leapt nimbly aside, evading some wicked thrust, and all the while he was driving his grace back and back. He was not panting, and now and again he laughed softly and happily. The blood from the wound on his arm was dripping steadily onto the ground, yet it seemed to Tracy to affect him not at all. But Jack himself knew that he was losing strength rapidly and must make an end. Suddenly he fainted and fell back. Tracy saw his advantage and pressed forward within the wavering sword-point. The next instant his sword was whirl from his grasp and he lay on the ground, unhurt but helpless, gazing up at the masked face and at the shortened rapier. How he had been thrown he did not know, but that his opponent was a past master in the art of fence he was perfectly sure. My lord gave a little chuckle and twisted a handkerchief about his wounded arm. I am aware, monsieur, that this is most unusual and it duels forbidden, but I am sure that my lord will agree that the circumstances are also most unusual and the odds almost overwhelming. He turned his head to the two men, one of whom released his hold on the girl's arm and started forward. Oh, no! drawled my lord shaking his head. Another step and I spit your master where he lies. Stand! said his grace calmly. Bien! Throw your arms down here at my feet and, uh, release mademoiselle. They made no move to obey, and my lord shrugged deprecatingly, lowering his point to Tracey's throat. End of Chapter 11 Part 1 Read by Isabella Denton. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 11 My Lord Turns Rescuer and Comes Nigh Ending His Life, Part 2 Of Black Moth by George Atire. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Eh bien! They still hesitated, casting anxious glances at their master. Obey! ordered the duke. Each man threw down a pistol, eyeing Jack furtively, while the girl ran to her aunt, who began to soothe and fuss over her. Jack stifled a yawn. It is not my intention to remain here all night. Neither am I a child, or a foo. Depêche! Ben Manois saw that the coachman had his blunderbuss ready and was only too eager to fire it, and he knew that the game was up. He turned his head towards the reluctant bullies who looked to him for orders. Throw down everything, he advised. Two more pistols and two daggers joined their comrades. A thousand thanks! bowed my lord, running a quick eye over the men. Monsieur le duke, I pray you be still. Now, you with a large nose—yes, mon ami, you—go pick up the pistol our defunct friend dropped. The man indicated, slouched over to the dead body, and flung another pistol onto the heap. My lord shook his head impatiently. Menant! Have I not said that I am not entirely a foo? The unexploded pistol, please. You will place it here, doucement. Very good." His eye travelled to the men on the box. The coachman touched his hat and cried, I am ready, sir. It is very well. Be so good as to keep these gentlemen covered, but do not fire until I give the order. And now, Monsieur le duke, have I your parole that you will return swiftly from once you came, leaving this lady unmolested, and I permit you to rise? Tracy moved his head impatiently. I have no choice. Monsieur, that is not an answer. Have I your parole? Yes, cursue. But certainly, said Jack politely, pray rise. He rested his sword-point on the ground, and watched Tracy struggle to his feet. For an instant the duke stood staring at him, with face slightly out thrust. I almost think I know you, he said softly, caressingly. This French accent became a shade more pronounced. It is possible. I at least have the misfortune to know Monsieur by sight. Tracy ignored the insult and continued, very, very silkily. One thing is certain. I shall know you again, if I meet you. Even as the words left his mouth, Jack saw the pistol in his hand and sprang quickly to one side, just in time to escape a shot that would have gone straight through his head. As it was, it caught him in his left shoulder. Do not fire, he called sharply to the coachman and bowed to his grace. As I was saying, Monsieur, do not let me detain you, I beg. The duke's green eyes flashed venom for a minute, and then the heavy lids descended over them again, and he returned to the bow exaggeratedly. Au revoir, Monsieur, he smiled, and bent to pick up his sword. It will not be necessary for Monsieur to take his sword, said Jack. I have a desire to keep it as a souvenir. Yes. As you will, Monsieur, replied Tracy carelessly, and walked away to his coach, his men following close on his heels. My Lord stood leaning heavily on his sword, watching them go, and not until the coach had swung out of sight did he give way to the weakness that was overwhelming him. Then he reeled and would have fallen, had it not been, for two cool hands that caught his, steadying him. A tremulous, husky voice sounded in his ears. You are hurt. Ah, sir, you are hurt for my sake. With a great effort Jack controlled the inclination to swoon and lifted the girl's hand shakily to his lips. It is a pleasure, mademoiselle, he managed to gasp. Now you may, I think, proceed in safety. Diana slipped an arm under his shoulder and cast an anxious glance at the footmen, hurrying towards them. Quick, she commanded, sir, you are faint. You must allow my servant to assist you to the coach. Jack forced to smile. It is nothing, I assure you. Pray do not, I—and he fainted, comfortably away, into the stout Thomas's arms. Carry him into the coach, Thomas, ordered the girl, mind his arm and, oh, his poor shoulder, aunt, have you something to bind his wounds with? Miss Betty hurried forward. My darling child, what an escape! The dear, brave gentleman, do you have a care, Thomas? Yes, lay him on the seat. My lord was lowered gently on to the cushions, and Miss Betty fluttered over to him like a distracted hen. Then Diana told Thomas to take charge of my lord's horse that they could see, quietly nibbling the grass farther down the road, stooped and picked up his grace-of-and-over sword with its curiously wrought hilt, and jumped into the coach to help Miss Betty to attend to Jack's wounds. The slash on the arm was not serious, but where the pistol had taken him was very ugly-looking. While she saw to that Miss Betty loosened the cravat and removed my lord's mask. Die! See what a handsome boy it is! The poor brave gentleman! What a lucky thing he came up! If only this bleeding would stop! She ran on, hunting wildly for her salts. Diana looked up as her aunt finished and studied the pale face lying against the dark cushions. She noted the firm, beautifully curved mouth, the aristocratic nose and delicately penciled eyebrows, with a little thrill. The duel had set her every nerve tingling. She was filled with admiration for her preserver, and the sight of his sensitive, handsome countenance did nothing to dispel that admiration. She held the salts to his nostrils and watched eagerly for some sign of life, but none was forthcoming, and she had to be content with placing cushions beneath his injured shoulder and guarding him as best she might from the jolts caused by the uneven surface of the road. Miss Betty had bustled about and did all she could to staunch the bleeding, and when they had comfortably settled my lord, she sat down upon the seat opposite and knotted, decisively. We can do no more, my dear, but—yes, certainly, bathe his forehead with your lavender water. Dear me, what an escape! I must say I would never have thought of it, of Mr. Everard. One would say we were living in the Stone Age, the wretch— Diana shuddered. I knew he was dreadful, but never how dreadful? How can he have found out when we were to leave bath? And why did he wail at us so near home? Oh, I shall never be safe again! Miss my dear, fiddle-sticks! You saw how easily he was vanquished. Depend upon it. He will realize that he has made a bad mistake to try to abduct you, and we shall not be worried with him again. With this comfortable assurance, she knotted again and lent back against the cushions, watching her niece's ministrations with a professional and slightly amused air. CHAPTER XII. My Lord came sighing back to life. He opened his eyes wearily and turned his head. A faint feeling of surprise stole over him. He was in a room he had never been in before, and by the window, busy with some needle-work, sat a little old lady who was somehow vaguely familiar. Who are you? He asked, and was annoyed to find his voice so weak. The little lady jumped and came across to him. Praise be to God! She ejaculated. Likewise, bless the boy. The fever has passed. She laid a thin hand on his brow and smiled down into his wondering eyes. As cool as a cucumber, dear boy, what a mercy! It was a long time since anyone had called Jack dear, or boy. He returned to the smile feebly and closed his eyes. I do not understand anything, he murmured drowsily. Never trouble your head, then. Just go to sleep. He considered this gravely for a moment. It seemed sensible enough, and he was so very, very tired. He shut his eyes with a little sigh. When he awoke again, it was morning of the next day, and the sun streamed in the window, making him blink. Someone rustled forward, and he saw it was the lady who had called him dear and bidden him to go to sleep. He smiled, and a very thin hand came out of the bed-clothes. But who are you? He demanded a little craylessly. Miss Betty patted his hand gently. Still worrying your poor head over that? I'm Dye's Aunt Betty, though to be sure you don't know who Dye is. Miss was coming back to my lord. Why, why, you are the lady and the coach. Tracy, I remember. Well, I know not of Tracy, but I'm the lady and the coach. And the other? That was Diana Bolle, my niece, the pet. You will see her when you are better. But, but, where am I, madam? Now don't get excited, dear boy. I'm thirty, protested Jack, with a wicked twinkle. I should not have thought it, but thirty's a boy to me in any case, retorted Miss Betty making him laugh. You are in Mr. Bolle's house, Dye's father and my brother, and I hope you will stay until you are quite recovered. Jack raised himself on his elbow, grimacing at the pain the movement caused him. E'gad, madam, have I been here long, he demanded. Very firmly was he pushed back onto his pillows. Will you be still? A nice thing to be if you were to aggravate that wound of yours. You will have been here a week to-morrow. Bless my heart what ails the boy. For Jack's face took on an expression of incredulous horror. A week, madam, never say so. Tis true as I stand here, and a nice fright you have given us, what with nearly dying and raving about your dicks and your gyms. My lord glanced up sharply. Oh! So I—talked? Talk? Well, yes, if you can call all that mixture of foreign jargon talking. Now you must be still and wait till the doctor comes again. For a while car stares lay in silence. He thought of Jim and smiled a little. I could not have thought of a better punishment had I tried, he told himself, and then frowned. Poor fellow! He'll be off his head with fright over me. Miss—uh—Betty? Well, and you are not asleep yet? A sleep, madam, certainly not, he said with dignity. I must write a letter. Deed, and you shall not. But I must, tis monstrous important, madam. She shook her head resolutely. Not until Mr. Jameson gives permission, she said firmly. Jack struggled up, biting his lip. Then I shall get up, he threatened. In an instant she was by his side. No, no. Now lie down and be good. I will not lie down and be good. Then I shan't let you touch a pen for weeks. Jack became very masterful and frowned direfully upon her. Madam, I insist on being allowed to write that letter. Sir, I insist on your lying down. He controlled a twitching lip. Woe betide you unless you bring me a pen and paper, Miss Betty. But, dear boy, reflect, you could not use your arm. I will use it," replied Jack, indomitably, but he sank back onto the pillows with his eyes closed in a tiny furrow of pain between his straight brows. I told you so, scolded Miss Betty, not without a note of triumph in her voice, and proceeded to rearrange the disorderly coverlet. The blue eyes opened wide, pleadingly. Madam, indeed, tis very important. She could not withstand that look. Well, she compromised, I'll not let you write yourself that certain, but could you not dictate to me? Jack brightened and caught her hand to his lips. Miss Betty, you are an angel, he told her. I now get along with you. She hurried away to fetch paper and ink. As she returned she found him plucking impatiently at the sheet and frowning. I am ready, she said. Thank you, madam, tis very kind in you. Nonsense!" He laughed weakly. I want you to write to my servant to bid him bring my baggage to the nearest inn. That I will not. I shall tell him to bring it here. But Miss Betty, I cannot possibly trespass on. Will you have done? Trespass, indeed. I perceive I shall be much put upon, sighed Jack, and watched her lightning smile. Thank you, boy! Will you dictate? Very well, ma'am. No, I have changed my mind. I'll have it writ to a friend, please. Dear Miles, true to my promise, I write to you, in case you should be worried over my disappearance. Be it known that I am at—pray, madam, where am I? Horton Manor, little Dean, she replied, writing it down. Thank you. I had the misfortune to injure my shoulder in a— End-arm, put in the scribe inexorably—end-arm in a fight with a certain, very kind lady. I refused to write that rubbish. One of the ladies whom I rescued— Good heavens, madam, you've not put in that, cried Jack, horrified. She smiled reassuringly. I have not. I have put. My nurse is writing this for me. Madam, you are of a teasing disposition, reproved my lord. Yes. When you take Jenny over to trench him, will you please tell Jim to bring my baggage here at once? Have you that, Miss Betty? Yes. Remember me to Lady Mollie, I beg, and accept my apologies, and thanks. He paused. Will you sign it J.C., please, and address it to Sir Miles O'Hara, Thurs House, Maltby? Sir Miles O'Hara? Is he your friend, Mr.—Mr.—I do not know your name. Car—began Jack, and stopped biting his lip. Car—he continued imperturbably—John Carr, do you know O'Hara, Miss Betty? Me? No. Will he come to see you, do you think? If you let him in, madam? Gracious. Well, well. I'll tell Thomas to write over with this at once. Miss Betty, you are marvelously good. I vow I can never think, bless the boy, and what about your self-pray? I shudder to think of what might have happened to die if you had not come up. Tis we who could never thank you enough! Jack reddened boyishly and uncomfortably. Indeed, you exaggerate—Tut, tut!—well, go to sleep and never worry about anything till I return. And you won't try and get up! He shook with laughter. I swear I will not. Even and you never return I will lie here wasting away. But he spoke to space, for with a delighted laugh she had left the room. CHAPTER XII. MY LORD DICTATES A LETTER AND RECEIVES A VISITOR. PART II. OF BLACK MOTH. BY GEORGET HIGHER. READ FOR LIBRAVOX.ORG INTO THE PUBLIC DOMAIN. It was not until late that afternoon that O'Hara arrived, and he was conducted after a brief conversation with Diana and her father, to my lord's room, where Miss Betty received him with her cheery smile and jerky curtsy. You'll not excite Mr. Carr, she said, but was interrupted by my lord's voice from within, weak but very gay. Come in, Myles, and never listen to Miss Betty. She is a tyrant and denies me my wig. O'Hara laughed in answer to Miss Betty's quizzical smile, and strode over to the bed. He gripped my lord's thin hand and frowned down at him with an assumption of anger. Young good for naught! Did you not find a note better than to smash yourself up and well nigh drive your man crazy with fright? Oh, Pasha, did you find Jim? O'Hara looked round and saw that Miss Betty had discreetly vanished. He sat gingerly down at the edge of the bed. I—I took the mare over as soon as I had your letter, and a fine scare you gave me, Jack, I can tell you. She recognized him, and I accosted him. I'll swear you did not get much satisfaction from Jim, said my lord. Did he look very foolish? Tell you the truth, I thought the man was half duff, and I 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 it was his fault, and you never saw aught to touch his face. Put out was not the word for it. I suppose so. Look here, Myles, this is a damned funny affair. What happened to you exactly? This is what I'm about to tell you. After I left you I rode on quite quietly for about an hour, and then came upon Miss Bowley's coach, stopped by three blackards 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 you. Four men, and you had the audacity to tackle them all. Tismant you are entirely. Of course, if you had been in my place you would have ridden off in the other section, or aided the scoundrels, was the scathing reply. O'Hara chuckled. Well, go on, Jack. I'm not saying I don't wish I hadn't been with you. It would have been superb. I suppose Miss Bowley 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 Belmanois. Thunder and turf! Not the Duke. Yes, Tracy. Zones! Did he knew you? I cannot be certain. I was masked, of course, but he said he thought he did. It was at that moment he fired his pistol at me. The dirty scoundrel! Mmm. Yes. It is 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 he asked 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 skeptical. Because you could not yourself is not to say that a miserable spell-peen like Belmanois could not. I don't believe it of him. We were always quite friendly. If it had been Robert now—but I'm 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. Sheed 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, Myles. Of no use for that kind of dirt, myself, Jack. Oh, I don't know. I dare say we are none of us exactly saints. He changed the subject abruptly. How is Jenny? Rather offer feed, missing ye, 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 this worthless master. Sure his face was white as your own when I told him you were wounded. Car stares turned his head quickly. What's this about my face? Just be so kind as to hand me that mirror, Myles. 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, Myles? 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 self to live for, and to think for, one makes the most of one's self, hence my vanity. Take away the mirror, please, the side of my countenance offends me. Sure, you are free with your orders, my 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, Myles, well, come again. Come again? My dear boy, you'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 Myles," 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 Boley, I must go. May I come again to-morrow? Surely," she beamed, we shall be delighted to see you. O'Hara bent over the bed. Then au revoir, Jack! My lady sent her love to cousin Harry, the saucy puss. Did she? How prodigious kind of her, Myles! And you'll give her mind and kiss her. Yes, said O'Hara, with dangerous calm, I'll kiss her what? Her hand for me, ended car-stairs, bubbling over, good-bye and thank you. That will suffice," said Myles, cutting him short. She bowed to Miss Betty and left the room. The business-like little lady fluttered over to the bedside and rearranged the pillows. Well, and are you satisfied? Madam, most extraordinarily so, I thank you. I shall be getting up soon." Hmm! was all she vouchsafed, and left him to his meditations. As she had foreseen he dozed a little, but his shoulder would not allow him to sleep. He lay in a semi-comatose condition, his eyes shut and a deep furrow telling of pain between his brows. The sound of a shutting door made him open his eyes. He turned his head slightly and saw that Jim Salter was standing in the middle of the room, looking at him anxiously. My lord returned his gaze crossly, and Jim waited for the storm to break. Car-stairs's heart melted, and he managed to smile. I'm monstrous glad to see you, Jim," he said. "'You—you can't mean that, sir. To his eye left your pistols unloaded. I know, damned careless of you, but it's the sort of thing I should do myself, after all." Jim advanced to the bedside. "'Do you mean you forgive me, sir?' "'Why, of course. I could not have fired on my best friend in any case.' "'No, sir, but that don't make it any better.' "'It doesn't, of course, and I was rather annoyed at the time. Oh, devil take you, Jim. Don't look at me like that. I'm not dead yet.' "'If—if you had been killed, sir, it would have been my fault.' "'Rubbish! I'd had a sword, hadn't I? For heaven's sake, don't worry about it any more. Have you brought all my baggage?' "'Yes, sir. It shan't occur again, sir.' "'Certainly not. Is Jenny well?' "'Splendid, sir. Will you trust me with your pistols, sir?' Carstairs groaned. "'Well, you've done. It was an accident, and I've forgotten it. Here's my hand on it.' He grasped Jim's as he spoke, and seemed to brush the whole subject aside. "'Have you disposed of that horrible coat you tried to make me wear the other day? I gave it to the landlord, sir. I should have burned it, but perhaps he liked it. He did, sir. Will you try to go to sleep now? If you had a shoulder on fire and aching as mine does, you wouldn't ask such a ridiculous question,' answered Jack snappishly. "'I'm sorry, sir. Is there ought I can do?' You can change the bandages, if you like. These are prodigious hot and uncomfortable.' Without another word, Salter said about easing his master, and he was so painstaking and careful not to hurt the ugly wound, and his face to express to so much concern that Carstairs controlled the desire to swear when he happened to touch a particularly tender spot, and at the end rewarded him with a smile and a sigh of content. "'That is much better,' he said. "'You have such a light touch, Jim.' The man's face reddened with pleasure, but he said nothing, and walked away to the window to draw the curtains." CHAPTER XIII. MY LORD MAKES HIS BOW, PART ONE OF BLACK MOTH BY GEORGET HIGHER. After Jim's arrival, my Lord recovered quickly, each day making great progress, much to the doctor's satisfaction, who never tired of telling Mr. Bully and Miss Betty that it was entirely owing to his treatment that the patient had recovered at all. As his idea of treatment mainly consisted of copiously bleeding John, which process Miss Betty very soon put an end to, he and she had many arguments on the subject in which he was completely routed. She held that Mr. Carr was well on the strength of her nursing and his own constitution, and very probably she was right. In any case, hardly a fortnight after O'Hara's first visit, my Lord was standing before his mirror, surveying himself, with his head speculatively on one side and a worried look in his eyes. Salter watched him anxiously, knowing this to be a critical moment. His master was somewhat of an enigma to him. The important things in life never appeared to affect him, but over a question of two cravites as opposed to each other, or some equally trivial matter, he would become quite harassed. After contemplating his appearance for several moments, Carr stared as frowned and looked over his shoulder. I've changed my mind, Jim. I will wear blue after all. Salter sighed despairingly. You look very well in what you have on, sir," he grunted. Jack sat down obstinately. I have conceived a dislike, nay, of veritable hatred for Puce. I will wear blue. Now, sir, do have done change in your clothes. You'll be tired out before you ever get downstairs, and you know what the doctor said. My Lord consigned the doctor in his words of wisdom to a place of great heat. Aye, sir, but the doctor is a worthy individual, Jim, but he knows even less of the art of dressing than you do. He does not understand the sole agony who makes his first appearance in Puce. But the blue coat laced with gold. Sir, I order it. I insist. The blue coat or not? Very well, sir. Resignedly Jim walked to the cupboard. When at length his lordship was dressed to his entire satisfaction it was midway through the hot June afternoon, and Miss Betty was tapping at the door, wishing to know whether Mr. Carr was coming down or whether he was not. Car stares shifted his sling, and taking up his hat, moved just a little shakily to the door. Salter opened it and cast a triumphant glance at Miss Betty, as though he were showing off all my Lord's graces. He proffered an arm. Shall I help you, sir?" Miss Betty curtsy low. La, Mr. Carr! John bowed profoundly. Give you good den, madam, he said. I am just about to descend. Thank you, Jim." He leaned heavily on the man's arm. Miss Betty walked around him admiringly. Lord! To his mighty elegant eye-vow, but I protest I am shy. E'gad, Miss Betty, and why? You are not so young as I imagined, she replied candidly. Turn mind, madam, that I never sought to deceive you. I am an aged man. Thirty, she scoffed and went on ahead. Come child, and mind the first step. At the bottom of the staircase stood Mr. Bowley, a man of medium height, thin-lipped and grey-eyed. He came forward with one hand outstretched. I am delighted to see you so much better, sir. I trust your shoulder no longer pains you? My Lord pushed Jim gently to one side and placed his hand in Mr. Bowley's. I thank you, sir, it is almost well. But for Miss Betty, who I fear has the makings of a true tyrant, I should not wear this obnoxious sling. Mr. Bowley smiled a little. Ah, yes, she keeps his all in order, does Betty. Pray, will you not walk a little in the garden? There are chairs on the lawn, and here is my daughter. He waved to the door and car stairs, turning beheld Diana. She stood framed by the dark wood, gowned in amber silk, with old lace falling from her elbows and over the bosom of her dress. Her hair was dark as night, with little tendrils curling over her broad white brow. One rolling curl fell over her shoulder, and the rest were gathered up under a small lace cap, which was secured by means of a ribbon past beneath her chin. Jack gazed and gazed again, and in her turn Diana studied him with wide brown eyes of almost childlike innocence. Then her lids fluttered and curling lashes veiled the glorious depths as a slow blush mounted to her cheeks. My lord recovered his manners and made his most approved leg as her father presented him. My love, this is Mr. Carr. Diana sank into a curtsy. And Mr. Carr, this is my daughter, Diana. I am pleased to make Miss Bowley's acquaintance, said John, and raised her hand to his lips. The delicate, tapering fingers trembled a little in his hold, and tremulous lips parted in the shyest and most adorable smile that he had ever seen. Indeed, sir, we are already acquainted. I am not like to forget my rescuer. I am happy to think that I was able to be of some service to you, mademoiselle. Believe me, it was an honour to fight in your cause. His eyes were on the fascinating dimple that played about her mouth. To his very kind of you to say so, sir, I fear we greatly incommodated you, and she made a gesture towards his sling. That, mademoiselle, is less than nothing. All the obligation is on my side. Miss Betty bustled forward. Now, that will do. I never heard such a foolish set of compliments. You are looking tired, Mr. Carr. Come into the garden and rest." Salter stepped forward, but Diana stayed him with an uplifted finger. If Mr. Carr will accept my arm, she hesitated. Jack flushed. Indeed, no, Miss Bowley, I can— Oh, tut-tut! cried Miss Betty. Have done dilly-dallying. Take him out, die! Mr. Bowley had already disappeared. His world lay in his library, and he was never far from it for any length of time. Now he had seized the moment when his sister was not looking to withdraw quietly, and when she turned round she was only in time to see the library door closed softly. Your papa has gone again, she remarked to her niece. What a trying man he is, to be sure. She followed the pair out on to the lawn and helped to make Carstairs seat himself on a long chair under a great elm. A cushion was placed under his wounded shoulder and another at his back. And are you sure that you are quite comfortable, inquired Miss Betty, anxiously bending over him? Jack laughed up at her. Quite sure, thank you, madam. But where will you sit? I shall sit in this chair, and die will sit on a cushion, throwing one down, at my feet, so. I see that you are all ruled with a rod of iron, mademoiselle, he said, and watched the dimple tremble into being. Indeed, yes, sir, it is very sad. Miss Betty chuckled and unrolled a packet of silks which she threw into her niece's lap. Will you have the goodness to sort those for me, love? She asked, taking out her embroidery. Pray, allow me to assist, pleaded John. Diana rose and planted her cushion down beside his chair. She then knelt down upon it and emptied the multi-colored strands onto his knee. Very well. You must be careful to separate the different pinks, though. See, we will have the rose here, the salmon here, the deeper rose here, the pale pink over there, and the reds. There's no more room. We will put the reds in this paper. Certainly, agreed, car-stairs, are we to leave the other colors until the pinks are sorted? She knotted and bent her head over the silks. Is Sir Miles coming this afternoon, Mr. Carr? Why, yes, Miss Betty, now you mention it. I remember that he is. Miss Bully, I defy you to put that one there on the rose-pile, till the shade too deep. I'm sure, to snot, where is one to compare it with? Car-stairs produced a long thread and held it next to hers. The two heads were bent close over it. Diana sighed. You're right. I can just see the difference, but tis very slight. Miss Betty peeped over the shoulders. Gracious! What an eye you must have! I can detect no difference. Her eye ran along the row of silks laid out on my lord's white satin leg. Mr. Carr, said Diana suddenly, I want to ask you something, something that has been puzzling me. Faith! What is it, Miss Bully? Just this. Did you call Mr. Everard, Mr. Leduc? There was a tiny pause. My lord looked down into the gold-flecked eyes and frowned a little. Did I call him that? Yes, I remember it distinctly. Was it just a manner of speaking? Just a manner of speaking. You may call it that, mademoiselle. Do you not think that he looks rather ducal? I tried not to think of him at all. I hate him. Almost I begin to pity this Mr. Everard, quote Jack. The dimple peeped out. Then to his most un-gallant of you, sir, she reproved. Do you know Mr. Everard? I have certainly seen him before, madame. Diana sat back on her heels and eyed him wonderingly. I believe you do not wish to answer me, she said slowly. Tell me, is Everard that man's real name? My lord twisted the ring on his finger uneasily. He did not feel himself at liberty to expose Belmanois, and if he should reveal his true identity it was quite possible that Mr. Bully might seek him out, in which case he himself might be recognized. He looked up. Pardon me, mademoiselle, but whence this cross-examination? Diana nodded placidly. I thought she would refuse, but I have discovered something that will confound you, sir. She rose to her feet. I will go and get it. She walked gracefully away towards the house, and my lord watched her go. End of Chapter 13 Part 1 Read by Cibela Denton For more free audio books or to volunteer