Captain Rudd, his head thrown back, continued for some moments to silently regard the ceiling. The others watched him, exhibiting, in various degrees, unmistakable anxiety. Finally, with his eyes still turned ceilingwards, he capitulated.
"All right. Let it be as you say. Rather than the gentleman in front of me should perish on his chair, and other gentlemen should suffer any longer from the absence of their 'natural food,' I am willing to be joined with the rest, and, with you, to place myself under the dominion of Mr. Jacob Longsett's thumb."
"Hear, hear! Bravo!" There were observations expressive of satisfaction from different quarters; but Mr. Longsett, in particular, was enthusiastic in his approbation.
"Your words does you honour, captain!"
"You think so?--I'm sorry we differ."
The foreman rapped upon the table.
"Order, gentlemen, please. Then may I take it that, at present, we are finally agreed upon a verdict of not guilty?"
"Coupled," corrected Mr. Moss, "with an intimation to the effect that, considering the prisoner's age, we have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt."
"Precisely. Does any other gentleman wish to make an observation? Apparently not. Then may I also take it that we are ready to return into court?"
Acclamations in the affirmative rose from all sides. The foreman rang the hand-bell which was in front of him. The usher appeared.
* * * * *
So the prisoner was acquitted, no one in the court having the faintest notion why.
One really ought to write, She married him, not He married her.
"The simple question is, my dear Tommy, are you going to take me or leave me?"
This was in Hyde Park. They were seated on one of those seats which are in front of the police-station. Neither of them ought to have been there, which, of course, was one of the reasons why they were. Mr. Stanham turned his eye-glass full upon Miss Cullen. Perhaps he thought that that was sufficient answer. Anyhow, she went on:
"In other words, are you going to marry me, or are you not?"
"I am; gad, I should rather hope so. I say, don't be too hard upon a fellow, Frank."
"Call me Fanny, don't call me Frank! Don't you know that my name is Frances, sir, which has absolutely no connection with Frank?"
"That's all right, old man."
That is what Mr. Stanham murmured. Extraordinary how some men do talk to women nowadays, even to the women whom they love!
"Then, if you do intend to marry me, Mr. Thomas Stanham, you'll be so good as to do so on Thursday morning next, before noon."
Mr. Stanham began to scratch the gravel with his stick.
"And get seven years' penal."
"Stuff! They don't give you penal servitude for marrying wards in Chancery. It's contempt of court."
"Yes, I know. Have to wash out your cell at Holloway, and stand at 'attention,' with your hat off, while the governor cuts you dead."
"Then perhaps you will be so good as to tell me what it is that you do propose to do. Do you imagine that you are the sort of person the Court of Chancery will ever allow to marry me?"
"Haven't so much imagination, my dear Frank."
"Call me Fanny, not Frank! You are not to call me Frank. Then do you suppose that I'm the sort of girl who's willing to wait, and not to marry her sweetheart, until she's twenty-five? because if you suppose anything of that kind we must be perfect strangers."
"It's very good of you, I'm sure."
"Oh, I daresay. You don't love me that much." Miss Cullen flicked her parasol. "Because a horrid old uncle chooses to say that I'm to be a ward of the court until I'm five-and-twenty am I to be a spinster all my life? If you love me the least little bit you'd invite the Lord Chancellor to come and see you marry me in the middle of Hyde Park, even if, directly the deed was done, he had your head cut off on Tower Hill."
"Thanks, dear boy."
Of course he married her. On the morning of the specified Thursday she went out for a stroll, and he went out for a stroll, and they met at the registrar's, and, as she put it, the deed was done.
And, when the deed was done, she went home to lunch, and he went, not home to lunch, but to a private place, where he could swear. Now here they were, both of them, at Tuttenham. They encountered each other on the doorstep. She said, "How do you do, Mr. Stanham?" And he said, "How do you do, Miss Cullen?"
"Nice way in which to have to greet your own wife," he told himself, having reached the comparatively safe solitude of his own apartment.
Then the Duke got him into his own particular smoking-room. The Duke was in an arm-chair. Mr. Stanham stood before the fireplace with his hands in his pockets. The talk wandered from Dan to Beersheba. Then, a good dealà propos des bottes, the Duke dropped what he evidently intended to be taken as a hint.
"If you take my advice, young man, you'll keep clear of Frances Cullen. She's here."
Mr. Stanham winced.
"Is she? Yes, I know. I met her on the steps."
"Did you!"
The Duke eyed him. He, not improbably, had observed the wince.
"Warnings are issued all along that coast. Steer clear."
"What do you think they'd do to a man if he were to marry her?" "Do to him! Tommy! I hope you're not meditating such a crime. She's not an ordinary ward of the court, any more than she's an ordinary millionaire."
"So I suppose."
"You had a little run with her in town. Everybody had their eyes on you, as you're aware. And when the Duchess told me she was coming I'd half a mind to write and put you off--fact! This is not a house in which even tacit encouragement can be offered to a dalliance with crime. Not"--the Duke puffed at his pipe--"not that she's half a bad sort of girl. She's clever. Very pretty. And she's got a way about her which plays havoc with a man."
"Much obliged to you, I'm sure."
"What do you mean?"
"For saying a good word for my wife."
"Your wife?"
"Mrs. Thomas Stanham--néeCullen."
"Tommy! You don't mean it!"
"You can bet your pile I do, and then safely go one better. I've got a copy of the marriage certificate in my pocket, and I rather fancy that she's got the original document in hers."
"You--young blackguard!"
"Sort of cousin of yours, ain't I, Datchet? It's all in the family, you know, blackguard and all."
"How did you do it?--And when?--And who knows?"
"Only you and me, and the lady. That's what's weighing on my mind. What's the good of having a wife if she ain't your wife--or, at any rate, if you daren't say that she's your wife, for the life of you?"
The Duke suddenly rose from his seat. He seemed to be in a state of actual agitation.
"Tommy, do you know that the Chancellor is coming here?"
"Who?"
"The Lord Chancellor. The carriage went to meet him an hour ago. I expect him every moment."
Mr. Stanham looked a trifle blank.
"I didn't know the ministry was formed."
"It's formed, but it's not announced; Triggs is to be the Chancellor."
"And what sort of gentleman may Triggs be when he's at home?"
"Sir Tristram? Well!" The Duke was walking up and down the room. He appeared to be reflecting. "He's rather a queer card, Triggs is. He's been a bit of a wildish character in his time--and they do say that his time's not long gone. He has a temper of his own--a nasty one." Pausing, the Duke fixedly regarded Mr. Stanham. "I should say that when Triggs learns what you have done he will clap you into gaol, and keep you there, at any rate until Miss Cullen ceases to be a ward of the court."
Mr. Stanham's countenance wore a look of dire consternation.
"No! She's to be a ward until she's twenty-five, and she's not yet twenty-two."
"Then, in that case, I should say that, at the very least, you are in for three good years of prison. My advice to you is----"
The Duke's advice remained unuttered. Just at that moment the door was opened. A servant ushered in a new-comer.
"Sir Tristram Triggs."
The Duke, striding forward, held out both his hands. "Sir Tristram! And how long is it to be Sir Tristram?"
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"For a few hours, more or less, I suppose. I don't know much about this kind of thing. I daresay I shall know more about it when I've done."
"When you've done? May that not be for many and many a year! Allow me to introduce to you a friend of mine--Mr. Thomas Stanham."
Sir Tristram turned. For the first time he appeared to notice Mr. Stanham.
Physically the new great man was short, and inclined to ponderosity. The entire absence of hair upon his face served to accentuate its peculiar characteristics. It was a square face--and, in particular, the jaw was square. His big eyes looked from under a penthouse formed by his overhanging brows. As one looked at him one instinctively felt that this was a man whom it would be safer to have as a friend than an enemy. As he turned a faint smile seemed to be struggling into existence about the corners of his great mouth. But directly his glance alighted upon Mr. Stanham that smile vanished into theewigkeit. He looked at him very much as a bull-terrier might look at a rat. And he said, in a tone of voice which seemed fraught with curious significance--
"I have had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman before."
On his part Mr. Stanham regarded Sir Tristram with a supercilious air which, perhaps unconsciously to himself, was only too frequently seen upon his face--as if Sir Tristram were an inferior thing.
"I'd no idea that your name was Triggs."
The Duke, standing behind Sir Tristram, clenched his fists, and glared at Mr. Stanham as if he would like to have knocked him down.
It happened, shortly afterwards, that Miss Cullen left her bedroom to come downstairs. As she went along the corridor she met a gentleman who was being conducted by a servant, probably to his own apartment. The gentleman was Sir Tristram Triggs. When Sir Tristram saw Miss Cullen, and Miss Cullen saw Sir Tristram, they both of them stopped short. The great man's complexion was, normally, of a ruddy hue. At sight of the lady he turned the colour of a beetroot, boiled. She drew herself up to the full capacity of her inches. And she uttered a single monosyllable.
"You!"
That was all she said--then went sweeping on.
"That horrid man!--He here!--To think of it!--If I'd only known that he was coming I do believe, in spite of Tommy, that I'd have stayed away."
At the foot of the stairs Miss Cullen encountered Mr. Stanham. That gentleman had, as he was wont to have, his hands in his pockets. Also, as he was not wont to have, he had a face as long as his arm.
"I say, Frank, old man, isn't there somewhere where I can have a word or two with you on the strict Q.T.?"
"Certainly--the library. There's never a soul in there."
One would not like to libel Tuttenham so far as to say, with Miss Cullen, that the only tenants the library ever had were the books. But, on that occasion, it did chance that the pair had the whole place to themselves. Mr. Stanham perched himself on a corner of the table, still with his hands in his pockets.
"There's going to be a pretty kettle of fish, dear boy."
That was what the gentleman observed.
"My dear child, what do you mean? What is the matter?"
"The Lord Chancellor's here."
"No!--How do you know?"
"Datchet just introduced me to him."
"Oh, Tommy, I say, what fun!"
With a little laugh the lady clapped her hands. She appeared to be gifted with a keener eye for comedy than Mr. Stanham.
"I don't know what you call fun. It happens that the new Lord Chancellor is a man who, I have good reason to believe, would give a tidy trifle for a chance of getting his knife into me."
"Whatever for?"
"I'll tell you the story. Last year, when I was at Canterstone for the shooting, I was placed next to a man whom I had never seen in my life, and whom I never wanted to see in my life again. What Charlie asked him for beats me. I believe, if he knew one end of a gun from the other, it was as much as he did know. I doubt if there ever was his ditto as a shot. I wiped his eye over and over again. I kept on doing it. I couldn't help it--I had to. He never hit a bird. But he didn't like it any the more for that. We had something like a row before the day was over. I fancy that I said something about a barber's clerk. Anyhow, I know I walked off there and then."
"You nice, agreeable child! It's my opinion that all you men are the same when you are shooting--missing links. And, pray, what has this pleasant little sidelight on the sweetness of your disposition got to do with the new Lord Chancellor?"
"Only this--the new Lord Chancellor's the man I called a barber's clerk."
"Tommy! How horrible!"
"It does seem pretty lively. You should have seen how he looked at me when Datchet just now introduced us. Unless I am mistaken in the gentleman, when this little affair of ours leaks out, and I'm brought up in front of him and he sees who I am, he'll straightway consign me to the deepest dungeon, and keep me there, at any rate as long as he's Lord Chancellor. It's only a cheerful little prophecy of mine. But you mark my words, and see."
"My poor dear boy! Whatever shall we do?"
"There's one thing I should like to do, and chance it; I should like to kick Sir Tristram Triggs!"
"Kick who? Sir Tristram Triggs! Tommy! Why would you like to kick Sir Tristram Triggs?"
"That's the beggar's name."
"The beggar's name? Can it be that Sir Tristram Triggs is the new Lord Chancellor?" She threw out her arms with a gesture of burlesque melodrama. "Tommy! Kiss me! Quick. Before I faint!"
"I never saw a chap like you for kissing."
"That's a pretty thing to say! Although we may be married, sir, we have not yet been upon our honeymoon."
"I'll kiss you, if you like."
"Thank you kindly, gentle sir!" She favoured him with a sweeping curtsey. "Tommy, even you have no idea of the ramifications and complications of our peculiar situation." Mr. Stanham had removed his hands from his pockets. They occupied a more agreeable position round the lady's waist. "See if I don't snatch you from the lion's jaws."
"Does that mean that you will help me to escape from Holloway?"
"It means that you will never get as far as Holloway!"
"Am I to die upon the road then?"
"Don't talk like that, don't! You don't know what a wife you've got! You don't know how she loves you, worthless creature that you are! Tommy, do say that you love me, just a little bit! There, you needn't squeeze me quite so tight. I can't explain to you all about it. I will some day! There's going to be a duel, perhaps to the death! between the Lord Chancellor and yours to command; and if that august personage, in the figure anyhow, of Sir Tristram Triggs, is not worsted and overthrown, I will give you leave, sir, to say that you do not admire my taste in dress. Tommy, don't."
After dinner Miss Cullen, strolling about the great glasshouse, all alone, came upon Sir Tristram, also all alone. Although not, probably, more than half an inch taller than the gentleman, she looked,--yes, down at him, as if, comparatively, he were but an insect at her feet.
"Well, Sir Tristram, what amends do you propose to make to me?"
"Miss Cullen?"
"Sir?"
She gazed at him; and this famous lawyer, who had been more than a match for theolla podridaof the law courts, and the champions of the political ring, quailed before a young girl's eyes.
"I fear, Miss Cullen, that I fail to apprehend your meaning."
"Is it possible that you are an habitual desecrater of that law which you have sworn to uphold, and that, therefore, the details of your crimes are apt to escape your memory? More than three months have elapsed since you committed your crime. So far as I know you have not sought as yet to take advantage of any occasion to offer me atonement."
Sir Tristram faced round to her with something of the bulldog look which had come upon his face when he had found himself in front of Mr. Stanham.
"May I inquire, Miss Cullen, why you go out of your way to use language of such extravagant exaggeration? It would be gross absurdity, amounting almost to prostitution of language, to call the offence of which I was guilty, if it was an offence, a crime."
"Perhaps it is because you are a lawyer that you are unaware that not so very long ago a man was sentenced to six months' imprisonment for exactly the same thing."
Sir Tristram fidgeted. He seemed not to have complete control over his tongue.
"Miss Cullen, I trust that I may never be found lacking in respect to a lady. If I have been so unfortunate as to have offended you I proffer you my most sincere apologies, and I humbly entreat for your forgiveness."
Miss Cullen remained, obviously, wholly unmoved.
"When a criminal expresses his contrition, is he held, by so doing, to have sufficiently purged himself of his offence?"
"What is it that you require of me?"
"I am told that you are to be the new Lord Chancellor. I am a ward in chancery."
"I learn the fact with the greatest pleasure."
"Do you? Then your pleasure bears a strong resemblance to my pain. I am to remain a ward till I am twenty-five."
"Indeed?"
Sir Tristram began to rub his hands.
"Yes, indeed! I had an objectionable uncle who was so foolish as to suppose that I could not be a better judge of my own life's happiness than--a number of elderly gentlemen."
"Hem!" Sir Tristram coughed.
"If I was willing to overlook your offence"--Sir Tristram smiled--"I should require aquid pro quo."
"And what, my dear Miss Cullen, would be the nature of thequid pro quo?"
"I should want you to consent to my marrying."
"To consent to your marrying?--Ah!--I see!--If the matter is laid before me in due and proper form--it is possible that you have a certain individual in your mind's eye whom you are willing to make the happiest of men--and I was satisfied that he was a fit and a proper, person, and every care was taken to safeguard your interests--then, my dear Miss Cullen, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give my consent to your being happily launched on what, I fear, is too often the troubled sea of marriage."
"That's not the sort of thing I want at all."
"No? Then what is the sort of thing you want, may I inquire?"
The young lady tapped her foot against the floor. For the first time she seemed to be not entirely at her ease.
"The fact is, I'm married already."
"Married--already? With the consent of the court?"
"Bother the court!"
"Young lady! Are you aware who it is to whom you are speaking?"
"I am perfectly aware. I am speaking to the person who kissed me against my will."
"Miss Cullen! I'm the Chancellor!"
"That for the Chancellor!"
She actually snapped her fingers in his face. He seemed to be speechless; though, perhaps, he only seemed so. When he did speak it was as if he were suffering positive pain.
"I find myself unable to believe that you are capable of realising the position in which I stand, the position in which you stand too. Personal misusage I might endure. But, in this matter, I am impersonal. Take care! I represent in my poor person the majesty of English law."
He turned as if to go. If he supposed that he had crushed her he was very much mistaken.
"Is that your last word, Sir Tristram?"
"Miss Cullen, it is my last."
"Then, now, be so good as to listen to my last word. The Duke of Datchet is a magistrate. I will go straight to him and demand from him a warrant for your arrest."
"A warrant for my arrest? Girl!"
"I presume that it is because I am a girl that you are enough of a man first to assault and then to bully me."
Taking out his handkerchief Sir Tristram applied it to his brow.
"Am I mad, or you? Are you utterly impervious to any sort of reason?"
"Not more than you are. I have yet to learn that, because you are Lord Chancellor, you cannot be made to answer for your crimes, exactly like any other criminal. Forgive my husband, forgive me, whose only crime has been that we love each other, and who have not offended in the sight either of heaven or of earth, and I will forgive you, who have offended in the sight of both. Decline to do so, and, unless there is one law for the great and another for the small, in which case the world shall hear of it, I promise that you shall learn, from personal experience, what it means to go to gaol."
Sir Tristram looked about him as if he wondered why the earth did not open to swallow her. He seemed to gasp for breath.
"Miss Cullen, I beg that you will not suppose that under any possible circumstances I could listen, even for a single instant, to what, to me, are your hideous insinuations. But one possible solution I do see to the painful situation in which you stand. If the person whom you have illicitly and improperly married----"
"Not improperly married,--how dare you!"
"In the eyes of the court, Miss Cullen, certainly, in the eyes of the court. Hear me out. If this person should prove to be a fit and a proper person, of good character, of due position, and so forth, then, taking all the circumstances into consideration, I might be moved to leniency. What is the person's name?"
"He is of the highest lineage."
"So far, so good."
"He is a gentleman of the noblest character."
"Still better."
"He would be showing honour to any lady in the land if he made her his wife."
"Hem! Precisely! I asked you for his name."
"Thomas Stanham."
"Thomas Stanham!" Sir Tristram's countenance went as black as a thundercloud. "Thomas Stanham!" He turned to her with a look of fury on his face, which took even Miss Cullen by surprise. "That vagabond!"
"How dare you speak so of my husband, sir?"
"Your husband? Girl, you are a fool. You, the owner of prospective millions, have thrown them, even before they are in your actual possession, into the lap of that pitiful adventurer. You ask me to show him leniency? I will be lenient to you at least. I will protect you from him in spite of yourself."
He spoke with a degree of dramatic intensity which threw a lurid light upon the cause of his success in life. Miss Cullen was silenced after all. She stood and watched him as he strode away, with a degree of dignity in his bearing which seemed to have suddenly made him taller.
"Tommy must have wiped his eye!"
That was what she said to herself when she was alone.
"Well, old man, have you had it out with Triggs?"
Turning, Miss Cullen found that Mr. Stanham had approached from behind. He stood in the doorway--as usual, with his hands in his pockets.
"Yes, young man, I've had it out with Triggs."
Miss Cullen had a little flush on her cheeks and an added light in her eyes, which superfluities, it might be said, unjustifiably heightened her attractions.
"Softened his adamantine breast?"
"Well, hardly. Not what you might call quite. In fact, I should say that, if he remains in his present frame of mind, he will send you, for a certainty, to something much worse than penal servitude for life."
"Is that so? Very kind of you, I'm sure. I knew you'd make a mess of it, my love."
"Wait till the play is over. There's always a muddle in the middle. The third act has not begun."
"Triggs, this is the deuce of a nice state of things!"
The latest ornament of the woolsack was seated in the privacy of his own apartment prior to retiring to rest. But the cares of his position had followed him there. He was working his way through a mass of papers when his host appeared at the door.
"To what state of things does your Grace refer?"
The Duke looked round as if to make sure that they had the room to themselves. He seemed to be in a state of considerable agitation; indeed, the abruptness of his entry had in itself suggested agitation.
"Of--of course you know that I--I'm a magistrate."
"Certainly I know it."
Something in the other's tone seemed to have a soothing influence upon the Duke, possibly because it roused the spirit of mischief that was in him. He sat in an arm-chair. Crossing his arms upon his chest, stretching out his long legs in front of him, he regarded the toes of his evening shoes.
"Triggs, I have had an application made to me for a warrant for your arrest."
The Chancellor went a peony hue, as we have seen him do before.
"Your Grace is joking."
"I wish I were. I found it anything but a joke, and I am afraid that you are not likely to find it one either."
Sir Tristram removed his glasses. He held them in his hand. His face became hard and stern.
"May I ask your Grace to be more explicit?"
The Duke turned. Placing one elbow upon the arm of his chair, he looked at Sir Tristram as he leaned his chin upon his hand.
"Triggs, Miss Cullen has applied to me to issue a warrant against you for assault."
"Surely such an application was irregular?"
"I am not so sure of that--I am not so sure. Anyhow, I told her that it was. The only result of which, so far as I can judge, will be that she will make the application, in more regular form, either to me or to someone else to-morrow. But that is not the point. Triggs, did you do it?"
"Is it necessary that your Grace should ask me?"
"You didn't kiss her?"
Sir Tristram took out his handkerchief. He actually gasped for breath. It is to be feared that at that moment the representative of English law almost told a lie. However, it was only almost; not quite. He merely temporised.
"The whole affair is a pure absurdity."
"How do you mean? Is the charge unfounded?"
Sir Tristram drew his handkerchief across his brow.
"Supposing I did kiss her?"
"Supposing! Triggs? Good heavens! I remember your leading for a woman who brought exactly such a charge against a man. I remember how clearly you pointed out how, under certain circumstances, such an action might be, and was, an offence against good morals. Didn't Pickum give the man six months?"
The lawyer's resemblance to a bulldog became more and more pronounced. He all but showed his teeth. "I don't know, Duke, if you are enjoying a little amusement at my expense."
The Duke sprang to his feet. His bearing evinced an accession of dignity which, in its melodramatic suddenness, almost approached to farce.
"It is not my habit, Sir Tristram, to regard my magisterial duties as offering much scope for amusement. Situated as I am--as you are--as we all are--our party!--in the eyes of the nation, it seems to me that this matter may easily become one of paramount importance. Of such importance that I have come to you as a friend to-night to ask you, if there is a chance of Miss Cullen's charge becoming so much as whispered abroad, to seriously consider if it would not be advisable for you to place your resignation in the hands of the Prime Minister before your appointment to the Chancellorship is publicly announced."
Sir Tristram's jaw dropped open. His resemblance to a bulldog perceptibly decreased.
"Duke!"
"I am not certain, in coming to-night, that I have not allowed my friendship for you to carry me too far. Still, I have come."
"Your Grace is more than sufficiently severe. If you will allow me to exactly explain my position in this matter I shall have no difficulty in making that evident. I fear that Miss Cullen is a dangerous young woman."
The Duke shrugged his shoulders.
"You, of all men, ought to know that, under certain circumstances, women are dangerous--and even girls."
"Precisely. That is so. But I think that after I have made my explanation you will allow that Miss Cullen is an even unusually dangerous example of a dangerous sex." He paused--perhaps for reflection. When he continued it was with a hang-dog air. "Some short time since I did myself the honour of asking Miss Cullen to become my wife. I fear that--eh--circumstances induced me to take her answer too much for granted. So much so, indeed, that--eh--while I was waiting for her answer I--eh--I--eh--kissed her. I do not wish to lay stress upon the accident that the kiss was but the merest shadow of a kiss. But such, in fact, it was."
"In plain language, Triggs, you kissed her against her will."
"I had no idea that it was against her will, or I should certainly not have done it. Her behaviour after--eh--my action filled me with the most profound amazement. She jumped up. She addressed me in language which I can only describe as more pointed than elegant. And--eh--she walked away, leaving me, I do assure your Grace, dumbfounded."
"Well?"
The Duke's back was turned to Sir Tristram, possibly because there was something on his Grace's face which bore an amazing resemblance to a smile.
"Well, I heard nothing more of the matter. Indeed, I have heard and seen nothing of the lady till I met her here to-day. This evening she has alluded to the matter in a manner and in terms which filled me with even more profound amazement than her behaviour on the--eh--original occasion."
"But, man, didn't you apologise?"
"I apologised in terms of almost abject humility. But that did not content her. I will be frank with your Grace. She made me a proposition which----"
The Duke waved his hands. He cut Sir Tristram short.
"I have heard too much already. Triggs, I have allowed my friendship for you to play havoc with my discretion; let me hear no more. My advice to you is compromise, compromise, at almost any cost. You don't want to have your career ruined by a girl, and for the mere shadow of a kiss. To consider nothing else, think of the laughter there would be. As you say, the young woman can be dangerous, and, if nothing happens to change her purpose, you may take my word for it that she means to be."
Before Sir Tristram could reply the Duke was gone. The newly-appointed representative of the majesty of English law was left alone with his papers and his reflections. These latter did not seem to be pleasant ones. Words escaped his lips which we should not care to print--we fear they referred to that undutiful ward of his lordship's court. Inwardly, and, for the matter of that, outwardly, he cursed her with bell, book, and candle; certainly never was heard a more terrible curse. And so thoroughly did he enter into the spirit of the thing that he was still engaged in cursing her when the door opened, and in front of him was Miss Cullen with the handle in her hand.
She looked charming, and by that we mean even more charming than usual. She had changed her dress for apeignoir, or a dressing-gown, or something of the kind. Beyond question Sir Tristram had no notion what the thing was called. It suited her to perfection--few men had a better eye for that sort of thing in a woman than he had. There is no fathoming feminine duplicity, but no one everlookedmore surprised than did that young woman then. She had thrown the door wide open and rushed into the room, and half closed it again behind her before she appeared to recognise in whose presence and where she really was.
"I--I thought--isn't this Mary Waller's room? Oh--h!"
As struck with panic she turned as if to flee. But Sir Tristram, who was gifted, before all else, with presence of mind, interposed. He rose from his chair.
"Miss Cullen, may I beg you for one moment?"
"Sir! Sir Tristram Triggs!" Miss Cullen's air of dignity was perfect, and so bewitching. "I had something which I wished to say to Lady Mary Waller. There has been some misunderstanding as to which was her room. I must ask you to accept an apology."
"Unlike you, Miss Cullen, I always accept an apology."
"Indeed! Then my experience in that respect has, I presume, been the exception which proves the rule."
"May I ask when you apologised to me--and for what?"
"This evening,"--the lady looked down; her voice dropped; thrusting the toe of her little shoe from under the hem of her skirt, she tapped it against the floor--"for becoming a wife."
The grim man behind the table regarded her intently. Although he knew that the minx was worsting him with his own weapons, she appealed to, at any rate, one side of him so strongly that he was unable to prevent the corners of his mouth from wrinkling themselves into a smile.
"May I ask, Mrs. Stanham----"
"Sir Tristram!" She threw out her arms towards him with a pretty little gesture. "You have set my heart all beating! You have brought the tears right to my eyes! You are the first person who has called me by my married name."
He moved his hand with a little air of deprecation--as if the thing were nothing.
"May I ask, Mrs. Stanham, if Mr. Thomas Stanham is related to the Duke of Datchet?"
"Related?--Of course he is!--He's his favourite cousin."
"Hisfavouritecousin?" We doubt if she was justified in her use of the adjective, but the simple truth is, shewasa dangerous young woman. "I see. The plot unfolds. May I ask, further, if this little comedy was rehearsed in advance?"
"And in my turn may I ask, Sir Tristram, what it is you mean?"
They looked at each other, eye to eye. They understood each other pretty well by the time Sir Tristram's glance dropped down again to the papers on his table. His tone became, as it were, judicial.
"Well, Mrs. Stanham, I have been considering the matter of which you spoke to me this evening, and, having regard to the whole bearing of the case, to the social position of Mr. Thomas Stanham, and so forth, speaking, of course,ex parteand without prejudice, I may say that, as at present advised, if proper settlements are made, the marriage might be one which would not meet with the active disapprobation of the court."
Sir Tristram raised his eyes. The lady shook her head--very decidedly.
"That won't do."
"Won't do? What do you mean?"
"What I say. I'm not going to have Tommy bothered about settlements. I'm settlement enough for Tommy. What you have to do is to sit down and to simply write this: 'My dear Mrs. Stanham,--Speaking as Lord Chancellor, it gives me much pleasure in assuring you, as a ward of the court, that your marriage with Mr. Thomas Stanham meets with my entire and unreserved approval.--Yours faithfully, Tristram Triggs!'" Sir Tristram glowered--he might! But she was undismayed. "You will have to do it, sooner or later--you're a very clever man, and you know you will!--so why not do it at once?"
He did it at once. Actually! Possibly because the whole affair appealed keenly to his sense of humour--one never knows! She read the paper, folded it, and then she said--with such a pout! and with such malice in her eyes!--
"Now you may kiss me again, if you like."
"I am obliged to you, but the costs in the suit have already been too heavy."
"Then I'll kiss you!"
And she did--with some want of precision, just over the right eye. Then she fled to the door. When she was half-way through it she turned, and waved towards him the hand which held the paper.
"You are my guardian, you know."