8000
“So you are actuated by the best motives? Poor devil! Have you tried strychnine?”
—La Rabide.
9334
HE next morning I called in Mr. and Mrs. Titch, Aramatilda, and Halfred, and, in a voice from which I could not altogether banish my emotion, I told them that I must give up my rooms and that they might never see me again. From Halfred's manner I could not but suspect he was prepared for ominous news; he had evidently concluded that a man who introduced after dark such a visitor as I had entertained last night must stand on the brink either of insanity or crime. Yet his stoical look as he heard my announcement said, better than words: “You may disgust my judgment, but you cannot shake my fidelity. Through all your errors I am prepared to stand by you, and brush your trousers even on the morning of your execution.”
Mr. Titch's sorrow was, I fear, somewhat tinctured by regret at the loss of a profitable tenant, though I am sure it was none the less sincere on that account.
“What 'as to 'appen, 'as to come about, as it were, sir,” he said, clearing his throat for a further flight of imagery. “You will 'ave our good wishes even in furrin parts, if I may say so, which people which has been there tells me is enjoyable to such as knows the language, and 'as the good fortune for to be able to digest their vittles. We will 'old your memory, sir, in respectful hestimation, and forward letters as may be required.”
Mrs. Titch being, as I have said before, a lady of no ideas and a kindly heart, confined her remarks to observing:
“As Mr. Titch says, what has to be is such as we will hendeavor to hestimate regretfully, sir.” As for Aramatilda, she looked as though she would have spoken very kindly, indeed, had the occasion been more private. That, at least, was the sentiment which a wide experience enabled me to read in her brown eye.
“My dear Miss Titch,” I said to her, “I leave you in good hands. Next to having the felicity myself, I should sooner see you solaced by my good friend Halfred than by any one I can think of.”
“Oh, sir,” she replied, with a most becoming blush, “you are very kind. But that won't be till you don't require him no longer.”
“Right you are,” said her lover, regarding her with an approving eye. “And Mr. d'Haricot ain't done with me yet.”
“I fear that I shall be in two days more,” I replied, with a sadness that brought a sympathetic tear to Aramatilda's eye.
“That's to be seen, sir,” said Halfred, with resolution.
Well, I dismissed these good people with a sadder heart than I cared to allow, and had turned to arranging my papers and collecting my bills, when I was interrupted by the entry of the Marquis in person.
He was busy, he told me, busy about many things; and his manner was mystery itself. Yet even a conspirator is human, and evidently he had other interests in London besides our plot. From one or two sighs and tender allusions I shrewdly guessed the nature of these.
“You are not in love?” he asked me, suddenly.
“In love!” I exclaimed, in astonishment, for his previous sentence, though uttered with a melancholy air, had referred to the merits of a new rifle.
“In love with a dark lady?”
I started. Could he refer to Kate? Yes, of course, now I come to think of it, he or his agents must have seen us together.
“No, Marquis, I give you my word I am not in love either with black or brown,” I answered, gayly.
“I am glad, my dear friend,” he replied, “for I would not do you an injury.”
“An injury?” I exclaimed, with a laugh. “Would you be my rival?”
“No, no,” he said, though with some confusion. “I meant, my friend, that I would not like to tear you from her.”
“The conspirator must conspire,” I said, with a smile.
“True; true, indeed,” he replied, with a sigh.
Used as I was to the complex nature of my friend, I could not help thinking that this was indeed a sentimental mood for one who was about to undertake as mad and desperate an enterprise as ever patriot devised.
“To-morrow morning I shall not be available,” he told me as he left; “but after that—the King!”
“You do not, then, prepare my dinner to-morrow morning?”
“No, monsieur, not in the morning.”
By that night I had made the few preparations that were necessary before striking my tent and leaving England, perhaps forever. The next day found me idle and restless, and suddenly I said to myself:
“The most embarrassing part of this wild enterprise is being thrown upon me. I want a friend by my side, and if the Marquis de la Carrabasse objects, let the devil take him!”
Ah, if I could have summoned Dick Shafthead!
But, having undertaken not to do this, I selected that excellent sportsman, his cousin Teddy Lumme. His courage I had proved, his wisdom I felt sure was not sufficient to deter him from mixing himself up with the business, and as for any harm coming to him, I promised myself to see that he did not accompany me too far.
I went to him, and having sworn him to secrecy, I told him of the dinner, he, of course, knew that his father, the venerable bishop, was to be of the party, and when he heard the part that the guests were afterwards expected to play you should have seen his face.
“Of course they will not listen to me for a moment,” I said. “The idea is absurd. But I am bound to carry out my instructions, and afterwards to start upon this reckless expedition myself. I only ask you, as my friend, to come to the dinner, and keep me in countenance, and afterwards take my farewells to your cousins—I should say, to all my English friends. Will you?”
“Like a shot,” said Teddy. “I wouldn't miss the fun for anything. By Jove! I think I see my governor's face! I say, you Frenchies are good, old-fashioned sportsmen. You're going to swim the channel, of course?”
His mirth, I confess, jarred a little upon me.
“I am serving my King,” I reminded him.
“Oh, I know, I'd do the same myself if these dashed Radicals got into power over here. A man can't be too loyal, I always say. All right; I'll come. What time?”
“Eight o'clock.”
In the afternoon a decidedly disquieting incident occurred. Much more to my surprise than pleasure, I received a brief visit from Mr. Hankey. I had disliked the thought of this individual ever since my burgling experience, and now that I saw him in the flesh I disliked him still more.
“Do you come from the Marquis de la Carrabasse?” I asked.
“His Lordship has directed me to remove the packing-case to-night.”
“Take it,” I said. “My faith! I prefer its room to its company! The Marquis is at Beacon Street at present, I suppose?”
“His Lordship is engaged.”
“Engaged?”
“Rather more than that,” said Mr. Hankey, with a peculiar look. “But he will call upon you to-morrow and give you your orders.”
“My orders!” I exclaimed, with some annoyance.
0340m
“His Lordship used that expression.”
Mr. Hankey looked at me as if to see how I liked this, and then, in a friendly tone which angered me still further, remarked:
“It's a risky job, is this.”
“A man must take some risks now and then.”
“If the police were to hear?” he suggested.
“Who is to tell them?”
“It might be worth somebody's while.”
“And whom do you suspect of being that traitor?” I exclaimed.
With a very abject apology for giving any offence, Mr. Hankey withdrew.
“They still suspect me!” I said to myself, indignantly.
Then another suspicion, still more unpleasant, struck me. Was Mr. Hankey making an overture to me? I tried to dismiss it, but my spirits were not very high that night, not even after the explosive packing-case had been removed.
Before retiring to bed on the last night which I was going to spend in this land, a sudden and happy idea struck me. Not to write a single line of explanation to my late hosts was ungrateful and unbecoming in one who boasted of belonging to the politest nation in Europe. I had only promised not to write to Lady Shafthead and Dick. Well, then, there was nothing to hinder me from writing to Daisy. I admit that Sir Philip also was exempt, but this alternative did not strike me so forcibly. If I posted my letter in the morning, she would not get it till it was too late to take any steps that might interfere with our plans. I seized my pen and sat down and wrote:
“Dear Miss Shafthead,—Truly you must think me the most ungrateful and unmannerly of guests; but, believe me, gratitude and kind recollections are not what have been lacking. I am prevented from explaining fully, but I may venture to tell you this—since the occasion will be past even when you read these lines; I am again in the service of one who has the first call upon my devotion. Without naming him, doubtless you can guess who I mean. Silence towards the kind Lady Shafthead and towards my dear friend Dick has been enjoined upon me; but since you were not specifically mentioned I cannot resist the impulse to assure you of my eternal remembrance of your kindness and of yourself. Convey my adieus to Sir Philip and to Lady Shafthead, and assure them that their hospitality and goodness will never be forgotten by me.
“Tell Dick that I shall write to him later if fate permits me. If not, he can always assure himself that I was ever his most affectionate and devoted friend.
“I leave England to-night on an adventure which I cannot but allow seems hopeless and desperate enough, but, as I once said to you on a less serious occasion,'l'homme propose, Dieu dispose.' The cause calls, I can but obey! I know not what English customs permit me to sign myself, but in the language of sincerity and of the heart, I am, yours eternally and gratefully.”
And then I signed my name, lingering a little over it to delay the curtain which seemed to descend when I folded my letter and placed it in its envelope.
8000
“Farewell, my friends, farewell! We have had some brave days together!”
—Boulevardé.
9343
HE momentous day had come. Looking out of my bedroom window in the morning, I saw the sunshine smiling on the bare trees and the frosted grass of the park. At that hour the shadows were long, and Rotten Row quiet as a lonely sea-shore, so that a lively flock of sparrows seemed to fill the whole air with their cheerful discussions, and I fancied they were debating whether they could let me go away and leave forever this little home that I had made.
“I would stay,” I said to them; “I would stay if I could.”
But, alas! it was to be my last day in England, the land I had first regarded as so alien, and then come to love so well. And there was no use standing here letting my spirit run down at heel.
Yet, when I came into my sitting-room and saw the bareness that had already been made by my preparations for departure, the absence of little things my eye had before fallen upon without noticing, and the presence of a half-packed box in one corner, my heart began to feel an emptiness again.
“I feel as a man must when he is going to get married,” I said to myself, and endeavored to smile gayly at my humor.
Hardly had I finished my breakfast, endeavoring as I read as usual my morning paper to forget that I was leaving all this, when I heard a quick step in the passage, and with a brisk, “Bon jour, monsieur!” the Marquis entered.
“Ah,” I thought, “he is in his element. No regrets with him.”
Yet, after the first alertness of his entry, I observed, to my surprise, a certain air of sentiment about him, which, if it was not regret, was at least not martial keenness.
“You did your business yesterday?” I said.
“I did,” he replied, in a grave tone, and with something like a tender look in his eye. “I did some private business of an unforgettable and momentous nature, my dear d'Haricot. But not now; I shall not tell you now. To-night you shall know.”
Then, making a gesture as if to banish this mood, he threw himself into a chair, and, bending his brows in a keen look at me, said:
“But to business, my friend; to the business we are embarked upon.”
“Precisely,” I said. “I await it.”
“In this house where you dine are two entrances. Your guests come in by one, and you await them in the rooms I have set apart for you. In the rest of the house I operate.”
“And what do you do?”
“I gather our force. Men picked by my agents are to be invited to enter by the other door. I offer them refreshments. They follow, or, rather, precede me. In a lane at the back of the house is yet another door; against it is drawn up a great van, a van used for removing furniture, a van of colossal size. You see?”
“Hardly; I fear I am stupid.”
“You do not see? Ah, my dear d'Haricot, eloquence is your gift, contrivance mine. I have not invented a flying-machine, a submarine vessel, and a dynamite gun for nothing. These men enter this van; the door is closed upon them; it is driven to the station, put on board my special train, and taken to the coast. They then emerge; I address them in such terms as will make it impossible for them to withdraw, even if they wish—and they are to be desperate, picked men; we arm them, and then to France! On the coast of Normandy we will be met by five regiments of foot, two of cavalry, and six batteries of artillery which I am assured will declare for the King. Paris is ripe for a revolution. Vive le Roi! Why are you silent? Is it not well thought of, my friend?”
“It is indeed ingenious,” I replied. “But the carrying of it out I foresee may not be so easy.”
“Nothing can fail. My confidence is implicit. Was I ever deceived?”
I might with truth have retorted “always,” but I saw that I should only enrage him.
I shrugged my shoulders and asked:
“You superintend the affair?”
“In the house. Hankey makes the arrangements at the station. Much is to be done. One man to one task.”
“And I? What do I do?”
“You bring your friends to the station. At eleven precisely the train starts. Do not be late.”
“But if they will not accompany me?”
“If all else fails, we go to France together. At least our brave countrymen will not be afraid, whatever these colder islanders may do.”
“You may depend on me for that,” I answered. “By-the-way, I should tell you that I bring a friend of my own to dinner—M. Lumme.”
“Lumme!” cried the Marquis. “You can trust him?”
“Implicitly.”
“And I trust you. Bring him if he is brave.” There was a minute's pause; he had suddenly fallen silent.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“All for the present, my brave friend; au revoir! We meet at the station at eleven precisely! Do not forget!”
He leaped up with that surprising vivacity that marked his movements, and before I had time to accompany him even as far as the door he had closed it and gone. In a moment, however, I heard his voice outside, apparently engaged in altercation with some one, and then followed some vigorous expletives and a brisk sound of scuffling.
I rushed into the passage, and there, to my consternation, beheld my friend retreating towards me before a vigorous onslaught by Halfred, who was flourishing his fists and exclaiming, “Come out, you beastly mounseer! Come out into the square and I'll paste your hugly mug inter a cocked at!”
“Diable!” cried the Marquis. “Leetle bad man stop short! Mon Dieu! What can it was?”
“Halfred!” I cried, indignantly. “Cease! What is the meaning of this?”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said Halfred, desisting, but unabashed at my anger. “You told me yourself, sir, as ow I was to do it.”
“I told you? Explain! Come into my room.”
I brought the two combatants in, closed the door, and repeated, sternly:
“Explain, sir!”
“This is the furriner as haccosted Miss Titch, sir,” said Halfred, doggedly, “and you said as 'ow I'd better practise my boxing on 'im. I didn't spot 'im the other night, but Miss Titch she seed 'im this morning and told me.”
“I know not the meaning you mean when you speak so fast!” cried the Marquis. “But I see you are intoxicate, foddled and squiff. Small beast, to damn with you!”
0348m
“You just wait till I gets you outside,” said Halfred, ominously. “I'll give you something to talk German about!”
“German!” shrieked the Marquis, catching at the only word he understood. “If you was gentleman not as could be which I then should—ha!” And he stamped his foot and made a gesture of lunging my retainer through the chest.
“Oh, you're ready to begin, are you?” said Halfred, mistaking this movement for the preliminary to a box and throwing himself into the proper attitude.
“With your permission, sir.”
“Stop!” I said. “You certainly have not my permission! I shall dismiss you if you strike my guest again!”
Yet I fear I was unable to keep my countenance as severe as it should have been. I then turned to the livid and furious Marquis and explained the cause of the assault.
“Address that girl!” cried he. “It was to ask her questions—questions about you, monsieur, when I wrongly distrusted you. This is a scandalous charge!”
“But you see how liable your action was to misconstruction?”
“I see, I do see!” he exclaimed. “He was right to feel jealous! I have given many good cause, yes, I confess it. Explain to him.”
I told Halfred of his mistake.
“Well, sir,” he said, “I takes your word, sir.”
“Good young man,” said the Marquis, turning to him with his finest courtesy. “I forgive. I admire. You have right. Many have I love, but your mistress is not admired of me. She is preserve! Good-night, young man; good-night, monsieur.”
And off he marched as briskly as ever.
Halfred shook his head darkly.
“Him being a friend of yours, sir, I says nothing,” he observed, but his abstinence from further comment was more eloquent than even his candid opinion would have been.
I posted my letter, I smoked, I read a book to pass the time, and at last, as the afternoon was wearing on, I went to my bedroom and packed a bag containing a change of clothes and other essentials, for I remembered that I should have to drive straight from the dinner-table to the train. I looked out into the street; dusk was falling, the lamps were lit, the lights of a carriage and the rattle of horses passed now and then, the steady hum of London reached my ears. It was still cheerful and inviting, but now my nerves were tighter strung and I felt rather excitement than depression.
“Monsieur! You in there?”
The voice came from my sitting-room. I started, I rushed towards the welcome sound, and the next moment I was embracing Dick Shafthead. He looked so uncomfortable at this un-English salutation that I had to begin with an apology.
“Never before and never again, I assure you!” I said. “For the instant I forgot myself; that is the truth. Tell me, what good angel has sent you?”
For I knew his sister could not yet have received my letter.
“We were afraid you'd got into the hands of the police again, and I've come prepared to bail you out. What the deuce happened to you?”
“You heard the circumstances of my departure?”
“We heard a cock-and-bull story from a thickheaded yokel—something about a pistol and a villain with a mustache and a carriage and pair; but as we learned that you'd appeared at the station safe and sound, we divided the yarn by five. I must say, though, I've been getting a little worried at hearing no news of you—that's to say, the women folk got in a flutter.”
“Did they?” I cried, with a pleasant excitement I could not quite conceal.
“Naturally, we are not accustomed to have our guests vanish like an Indian juggler. I've come to see what's up.”
I told him then the whole story, letting the Marquis's prohibition go to the winds. He listened in amused astonishment.
“Well,” he said, at last, “it seems I've just come in time for the fair. You've napkins enough to feed another conspirator, I suppose?”
“You are the one man I want!”
“That's all right, then,” said Dick. “I'd better be off to my rooms to dress. Where shall we meet?”
“I will call for you soon after half-past seven. The house is not far from the Temple, I believe.” So now, thanks to Providence, I would have both my best friends by my side. My spirits rose high, and I began to look forward gayly even to urging a bishop to start by a night train with a repeating-rifle.
Soon after seven Teddy appeared, immaculate and garrulous as ever, and in high spirits at the thought of the shock his reverend father would get on finding him included among the select party.
“The governor's looking forward to having a great night of it,” said this irreverend son. “Scratching his head when I last saw him, trying to remember the stories he generally tells to dooks and royalties. I told him he'd better get up a few spicy ones to tickle a Frenchie, don't you know.”
0352m
“My faith!” I exclaimed; “how disappointed they will all be! I scarcely have the face to meet them.”
“Rot,” said Teddy. “Do 'em good. Hullo! what's this bag for? Oh, I see, you cross to-night, don't you? Is Halfred going with you?”
I also looked at my servant in surprise. He was dressed in his overcoat, and stood holding my bag in one hand and his hat in the other.
“Going to take your bag down for you, sir,” he explained.
“But I do not need you, my good Halfred. I was just going to say farewell to you this moment.”
“I'm a-coming,” he persisted.
“Even against my wishes?”
“Beg pardon, sir, but that there furriner, 'e' s in this show, ain't he?”
“Why should you think so?”
“I smells a rat, sir, as soon as I sees 'im. I don't mean no offence, but you don't know Hengland as well as I do. I'll come along, sir, and if you happens to be thinking of a trip across the channel, I was thinking, sir, a change of hair wouldn't do me no 'arm.”
“But I cannot allow you! There is danger!”
“Just as I thought, sir; but I'm ready for 'em.”
And, laying down the bag, he showed me the butt of an immense pistol in his overcoat-pocket.
“Halfred,” I cried, “you may not glitter, but you are of gold! Come, then, my brave fellow, if you will!”
“Good sportsman, isn't he?” said Teddy, as we drove off together.
At a quarter to eight we three, Teddy and Dick and I, alighted at number Twenty-two Beacon Street, Strand, to find Halfred and the bag awaiting us outside the door. A waiter with a mysterious air showed us up a narrow staircase into a small, well-furnished reception-room. Beyond this, through folding-doors, opened a dining-room of moderate size, where we found the table laid and ready. The man closed the door and disappeared, and the four of us were left to await the arrival of my guests.
8000
“The time has come, the very hour has struck when deeds most unforgettable are due.”
—Ben Verulam.
9355
UARTER-PAST eight, and no sign of a guest!” I exclaimed.
“You are sure you asked 'em for eight and not eight-thirty?” said Dick.
“Positive; it was on the card. I noticed particularly.”
“Perhaps they've gone to your rooms,” suggested Teddy.
“Scarcely. Some of them do not know my address, and this house was also engraved upon the card.”
We were sitting round the anteroom fire while Halfred waited in the dining-room.
“Beg pardon, sir,” he observed, putting his head through the door-way. “But perhaps they've smelled a rat, like as I do.”
Another quarter of an hour passed, and then we heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs; it sounded like several people. Then came a knock. I opened the door and saw the waiter who had shown me in, and behind him a number of as disreputable-looking fellows as I have ever met.
0356m
“Your visitors, sir,” said the waiter, in his mysterious voice, though with an evident air of surprise, and, I think, of disgust.
“Mine?”
“Yes, sir; Mr. Horleens, they wants.”
“But I am not Mr. Horleens. There is some mistake here.”
I addressed a few questions to one of the men, but he was so abashed at the well-dressed appearance of myself and my two guests that, muttering something about “being made a blooming fool of,” the whole party turned and descended again.
“It was the right word, sir,” said the waiter to me. “Some of 'em was to ask for Mr. Horleens.”
“What do you make of that?” I exclaimed, when they had all gone.
“They've mistaken the house, o' course,” said Teddy.
“Horleens, Horleens,” repeated Dick, thought-fully. “I have it! They meant Orleans. They must be some of your gay sportsmen.”
“Of course!” I cried. “That must have been the password. Well, no doubt they have found the proper door by this time. But I fear, gentlemen, that we are to have this dinner all to ourselves.”
“Let's eat it anyhow,” said Dick. “I've a twist like a pig's tail.”
This sentiment being heartily applauded by Teddy, I rang for the waiter, and we sat down to as excellent a dinner as you could wish to taste. Certainly, whatever miscalculations the Marquis had made, this part of his programme was successfully arranged and enthusiastically carried through. We ate, we drank, we laughed, we jested; you would have thought that the night had nothing more serious in store for any of us. Halfred, who helped to wait upon us, nearly dropped the dishes more than once in his efforts to control his mirth at some exuberant sally. It was not possible to have devised a merrier evening for my last.
“Here's to your guests for not turning up!” cried Teddy. “They'd only have spoiled the fun.”
“And the average of bottles per man,” added Dick.
“Yes. Thank God I am not making an inflammatory speech to Sir Henry Horley and the Bishop of Battersea!” I said. “But, my dear friends”—and here I pulled out my watch—“I fear I shall have to make a little speech as it is, a farewell oration to you. It is now half-past ten. I leave you in a few minutes.”
“The devil you do,” said Dick. “Teddy, the monsieur proposes to dismiss us. What shall we do?”
“The monsieur be blanked!” cried Teddy, using a most unnecessarily strong expression. “O' course we're coming, too.”
“But I shall not permit—”
“Silence!” said Dick. “Messieurs, let us put on our coats! Halfred, load that pistol of yours; the expedition is starting.”
No use in protesting. These two faithful comrades hilariously cried down all resistance, and the four of us set off for the station.
In a remote, half-lit corner of that huge, draughty building, we found the special train standing; an engine, two carriages, and the great colored van already mounted upon a truck. The Marquis met me with a surprised and disappointed look.
“Is this all the aid you bring?” he asked.
“All!” I exclaimed. “I do not know what mistake you have made, but my guests never appeared.”
“Is that the truth?”
“M. le Marquis!”
“Pardon. I see; there must have been some error. Well, it cannot be helped now. I, at least, have been more successful; I have got my men. Who are these two?”
I introduced my two friends, and we walked down the platform. As we passed the furniture van I started to hear noises proceeding from inside.
“Do not be alarmed,” said the Marquis. “I have explained that I am conveying a menagerie.”
We stopped before a first-class compartment. He opened the door and invited us to enter.
“Do not think me impolite if I myself travel in another carriage,” he said to me. “I have a companion.”
“M. Hankey?”
“He also is here,” he replied, I thought evasively.
Just before we started, Halfred put his head through our window and said, with a mysterious grin:
“The furriner's got a lady with him!”
0360m
But he had to run to his own carriage before he had time to add more. The next moment the engine whistled and the expedition had started.
“I don't quite know what the penalty is for this sort of thing,” said Dick, as we clanked out over the dark Thames and the constellations of the Embankment. “Hard labor if we're caught on this side of the channel, and hanging on the other, I suppose; so cheer up, Teddy!”
At this quite unnecessary exhortation, Teddy forthwith burst into song. You would have thought that these two young men, travelling in their evening clothes and laughing gayly, were bound for some ball or carnival. Yet they knew quite well they were running a very serious risk for a cause they had no interest in whatever, and that seemed only to increase their good-humor.
“What soldiers they would make!” I said to myself.
But in the course of an hour or two our talk and laughter ceased, not that our courage oozed away, but for the prosaic reason that we were all becoming desperately sleepy. How long we took to make that journey I cannot say. The lines seemed to be consecrated to goods traffic at that hour of the night and our train moved by fits and starts, now running for half an hour, then stopping for it seemed twice as long. At last I awoke from a doze to find the train apparently entering a station, and at the same instant Dick started up.
“We must be nearly there,” I said.
“My dear fellow,” he replied, seriously. “Are you really going on with this mad adventure?”
“I have no choice; but you—”
“Oh, I'm coming with you if you persist. But think twice before it's too late.”
“Hey!” cried Teddy, starting from his slumbers. “Where are we?”
Dick and I looked at each other, and, seeing that we were resolute, he smiled and then yawned, while I let down the window and looked out.
Yes, we were entering a station, and in a minute or two more our journey was at an end.
“There will be a little delay while we get the van off the train and the horses harnessed,” said the Marquis, coming up to me. “In the mean time there is some one to whom I wish to present you.”
He led me to his carriage and there I saw a veiled lady sitting. Even with her veil down I started, and when she raised it I became for the instant petrified with utter astonishment. It was Kate Kerry!
“I believe you have met this lady,” said the Marquis, in his stateliest manner, “but not previously as my wife.”
“Your wife!” I exclaimed. “I have, then, the honor of addressing the Marchioness de la Carrabasse?”
“You have,” said Kate, with a smile and a flash of those dark eyes that had once thrilled me so.
“We were married yesterday morning,” said the Marquis. “That was the business I was engaged upon. And now for the moment I leave you; the general must attend to his command!”
I entered the carriage, and there, from her own lips, I heard the story of this extraordinary romance. The Marquis, she told me, had obtained an introduction to her (I did not ask too closely how, but, knowing his impetuous methods, I guessed what this phrase meant); this had been just after the end of the mission, and his object at first was to obtain information about me from one whom (I also guessed) he regarded as probably my mistress; but in a very short time from playing the detective he had become the lover; his suit was pressed with irresistible vigor, and now I beheld the result.
“May I ask a delicate question?” I said. “Yes,” she replied, with all her old haughty assurance.
“What was it that moved your heart, that so suddenly made you love the Marquis?”
“He attracted my sympathy.”
“Your sympathy only?”
“And my admiration. He is serving a noble cause.”
Truly, my friend had infected his wife with his own enthusiasm in the most remarkable way. “Does your uncle know?”
“No.”
“He might not approve of my friend.”
“My husband is a marquis,” she replied, with an air of pride and satisfaction that seemed to me to throw more than a little light on the complex motives of this young lady.
“And now you propose to accompany him on this dangerous adventure?”
“Certainly I do! Where else should I be?”
“He is fortunate, indeed,” I said, politely.
Now I understand how my friend F. II had obtained all his information regarding my movements and my friends and my different escapades, for in the day's of Plato I had talked most frankly with his fair Marchioness. In fact, I perceived clearly several things that had been obscure before.
But our talk was soon interrupted by the return of the happy husband.
“All is ready! Come!” he said.
Undoubtedly, with his eyes burning with the excitement of action, his effective gestures and distinguished air, his dramatic speech, not to speak of that little title of marquis, I could well fancy his charming a girl who delighted in the unusual, and was ready, as her uncle said, to fill in the picture from her own imagination.
“And so my dethroned divinity is the Marchioness de la Carrabasse!” I said to myself. “Mon Dieu! I shall be curious to see the offspring of this remarkable union!”