"'At a time when the whole country is terrorized by highwaymen and footpads, singly and in bands, news of the extermination of the notorious gang of robbers under the leadership of Robin Freemantle (recently condemned to be hanged at Tyburn for his crimes and later mysteriously released) will be highly gratifying to the traveling public who go in constant fear of their lives because of the boldness of these marauders, who infest the very streets of the metropolis. No longer ago than last Monday L—d B—ch—e was attacked by these very miscreants, robbed and held in captivity (doubtless for ransom) while Robin Freemantle, disguised in his captive's domino, attended the masquerade at Marlborough House and robbed the duchess' guests—not even sparing, if rumor may be credited, the queen's most sacred Majesty!!"'But for this piece of shameless audacity, the ruffians might still be at large and the hangman still looking forward hopefully to his fees. We have it on unimpeachable authority that a certain beautiful v-sc-t-ss, renowned equally for her lively adventures and her incomparable charms, determined to avenge this outrage upon her sovereign mistress, and with undaunted courage and marvelous shrewdness, tracked the robber to his lair and actually recovered the stolen jewels!!! Then, at a preconcerted signal, soldiers surrounded the house, and when the robber-band attempted to escape by the river, sank the boat with all the fugitives on board. The exact number is not known, but must assuredly have been large—probably a dozen or a score. One thing only is certain—none remained in the house and none can possibly have escaped—'"There is more about the affair, but nothing that will interest you as much as that last paragraph," said Sir Geoffrey, folding the sheet."It is certainly most interesting to hear that there were twenty miscreants in the house," cried Prue, who had had time during the reading (which was impressively deliberate and pompous) to recover her self-command. "My exploit is vastly enhanced by the large number of human lions and tigers I bearded in their den. I begin to feel myself a heroine indeed!""There could be but one opinion as to that," said Sir Geoffrey, with a profound bow that scarcely accorded with the cold irony of his smile."Pray keep my counsel, and do not tell any one that I never saw any of the twenty robbers, and in fact had no idea that there were any in the place," said Prue. "You don't know how much I am indebted to you, Sir Geoffrey, for all the information you have given me about my little adventure!""I am indeed happy in being the first to assure you of its fortunate ending," said Sir Geoffrey, rising. "Surely you will now permit me, dearest, to urge my suit"—he dropped upon one knee before her, and had pressed several passionate kisses upon her hand before she made any attempt to repel him."That will do for the present, Sir Geoffrey," she said at last. "Please get up and be rational. You do not expect me, I presume, to send for a parson and marry you offhand? Imaybe a widow again; but I must have surer proof of it than a mere rumor, such as this, before I wed again. I have yet to be convinced that Captain de Cliffe left that house—that he ever was in it! 'Tis strange you should insist upon that—methinks that for a suitor so eager to press his own claims, you are over-ready to accuse me of keeping tryst with another—husband!""Accuse, sweet Prudence! You mistake me altogether. Too well, alas! do I know the coldness of your heart and the inaccessible distance from which your adorers are expected to admire you. Surely, you do not think me capable of a doubt?""You were capable of spying on me and following me, by your own showing," she retorted sharply."For your own sake, dearest; merely to be ready in case you needed a strong arm and a skilled sword to defend you. And all I ask now is that you will accept that protection for life and give me the right to silence every malicious tongue with the public announcement of our approaching marriage. Who will dare," Sir Geoffrey went on, in his most grandiloquent manner, "to defame the lady of whom I am ready to say, 'This is my promised wife; her honor is mine?'""A truce to your braggadocio, my good friend," laughed Prue; "your tragic tones and frowning looks almost persuade me that I need protection! Believe me, you are in a far worse case than I; you stand greatly in need of a disinterested adviser, who would counsel you to leave me before too late, or at least take time—a year or two, we will say—to think it over.""Was there ever a lover that listened to such counsel? Not if he loved as I do, dear one. So far from waiting a year, I swear that a week is too long, and that if you do not marry me to-morrow—"He hesitated and Prue took him up sharply. "What if I do not marry you to-morrow? Pray finish your threat, so that I may know what fate awaits me, since I shall certainly not marry to-morrow, neither next week, nor, perchance, next year!""And does your ladyship imagine that I, Geoffrey Beaudesert, will swell the ranks of those whom the beautiful Viscountess Brooke has left lamenting at the church-door?" demanded the suitor, giving way at last to his long-suppressed fury. "No, no, you can not play with me as you did with Beachcombe, O'Keefe, Sutherland and a dozen others. To-day I love you to distraction; you may bend me to your lightest caprice with a kind word. But scorn me, and to-morrow you will have an enemy with the will, as well as the power, to cover you with shame. Aye, shame, Lady Prudence Brooke!" as she sprang to her feet with blazing eyes. "Where will you hide your head when all the world knows how and why you became the wife of an outlaw and a felon—the thief who stole the queen's necklace, for a nuptial gift to his bride! Ha, ha! that will be a feast indeed for the scandal-mongers of London Town!""And Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert—how will he appear in the affair?" she retorted. "This is not the first time to-day that you have threatened me, Sir Geoffrey, but I advise you to let it be the last, for I warn you that if you drive me to do so, I may tell the story myself; and my version of it will not leave you entirely unscathed. How could I have done this thing—thisshameful, scandalousthing, as you truly call it—if you had not helped; nay, pushed me into it? Who bought the ring and license, and hired the parson? He was an ordained Church-of-England clergyman, was he not? If I am not mistaken, it was you who ordered him to make the marriage-service 'brief and binding,' and bade him keep his own counsel until his evidence was needed to prove me Captain de Cliffe's widow? If the scandal-mongers of London Town feast at my expense, they will certainly banquet at yours! And if you talk of enemies—but no, we are not silly children to wrangle over trifles, and scratch and slap each other's face because we can not have our own way all the time. Let us forget this folly and talk of pleasanter things.""No subject is pleasant to me but one—yourself," said Sir Geoffrey, with an effort to resume his ordinary manner. "Believe me, however impatient I may appear as a lover, as a husband you will find me a pattern of indulgence. But do not, I entreat you, try my patience much longer.""No doubt, Sir Geoffrey, I ought to be flattered by your persistence," replied Prue petulantly, "but if you have so little delicacy as to press one husband upon me before the other is in his grave, you surely are not anxious to inflict upon me the possible fate of a bigamist? If, perchance, one of these twenty highwaymen escaped, and that one proved to be the one you helped me to marry, your hasty wooing might cause poor Prudence Brooke to blossom on Tyburn Tree or, worse still, to end her days on a cotton plantation. 'Tis strange how much more anxious you are to wed me since I became a wife, than you were when I wasreallya widow! Then I heard nothing about post-chaises and elopements—""Because then, dear Prue, I had not known the torture of Tantalus, the anguish of seeing you within reach of my arms, yet held at an inaccessible distance by the accursed phantom of a husband, who was no husband and never could be one. Pardon me if I am unable to restrain my jealous ardor, and believe me, if you will but set a time for rewarding my devotion, I will endeavor, however difficult the task, not to offend again."Prue reflected a few moments. Then she rose, with an air that left Sir Geoffrey no choice but to follow her example."Sir Geoffrey," she said, "I am invited to accompany the queen to Windsor, whither she intends to go this week for a few days' rest, and perchance to be out of hearing of the wrangling of Whigs and Tories for a season. When I return, if you are still in the same mind, I promise to be ready with an answer, with which I shall hope to satisfy you. In the meantime, I shall not take it amiss if you reflect seriously upon the many defects of my character and the great disadvantages you will bring on yourself by marrying penniless me, instead of seeking out some charming heiress—of whom I could point out several, both maids and widows—to whom your many noble qualities—and your title—would be irresistible."She made him the deepest of curtseys, preserving all the time a countenance so grave and dignified that he was completely silenced, and was withdrawing without further remonstrance, when the door was flung open, and James, in his most impressive; manner, announced:"Lord Beachcombe."CHAPTER XXIAN AFFAIR OF FAMILYThere was a momentary pause of embarrassment. Lord Beachcombe's last visit to Lady Drumloch's house had been under circumstances that made the present one quite unforeseen. Also he had not met Sir Geoffrey since their hostile encounter in Hyde Park, therefore a meeting in the presence of the woman who had been so disturbing an element in both their lives, was mutually disconcerting.Sir Geoffrey was the first to recover himself, greeting the new arrival with exaggerated politeness and inquiring after his health with a solicitude that Lord Beachcombe did not attempt to reciprocate. The wound he had received from Sir Geoffrey's sword was slight enough to be patched up with a few strips of court-plaster; the wound to his vanity still gaped. He looked on with a sardonic smile while Sir Geoffrey, pressing several impassioned kisses upon Prue's reluctant hand, bade her "a brief adieu," and slowly backed himself to the door."I trust I am not driving Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert away," said Beachcombe stiffly."By no means," cried Prue with alacrity. "Sir Geoffrey was taking his leave when you entered. Sir Geoffrey, farewell. No doubt we shall meet at Lady Rialton's, or elsewhere, later in the day; our world is so small, we can not get away from one another even for an hour; don't you find it sometimes grows monotonous, Lord Beachcombe?"As the door closed upon the parting guest, Beachcombe approached her with an air of distant respect, bowing profoundly, with his hand upon his breast."Pardon this intrusion, Lady Prudence, and permit me to lay my homage at your feet," he said.Prue curtsied again. "Pray, my Lord, do not wound me by apologizing for a friendly visit," she returned, with a sweet smile. "Be seated, and let me offer you a cup of chocolate."The little torment had jumped quickly to the conclusion that some motive of strong personal interest had brought her old lover to the house he had never entered since, scarcely a year ago, their troth had been broken with bitter words and thinly veiled insults on both sides. Her quick intuition warned her that his visit might, very possibly, add another snarl to the tangle in which she felt herself becoming hopelessly enmeshed. So she exerted all her tact and skill to keep him on tenter-hooks, and give herself time to gather her forces, while she discussed frothy scandals and airy nothings, pretending not to notice his lack of response and ill-repressed impatience, until suddenly she turned full upon him her clear and dazzling glance and changed her tactics without a moment's warning."But I had forgotten," she said, "how little you care about scandal and poetry, and I can scarcely flatter myself that my frivolous conversation can be very entertaining to you. My tongue runs away with me sadly, doesn't it? I dare say you remember of old what a chatterbox I am. Well," with a sudden change of tone, "now tell me what really brought you to see me?"Her abrupt question had the intended effect of confusing her visitor and throwing him off his guard, while her ingenuous smile disarmed him."Your conversation is delightful at all times, Lady Prudence," he began hurriedly; "so much information—such—ah—intimate knowledge of society—and literature is as rare as it is agreeable. Nothing should I enjoy so much, if I did not have my head so full of a subject which—a—private family affair—which—which—"He trailed off helplessly, and she let him flounder until his embarrassment ceased to amuse her. Then she said quietly:"How canIbe of any assistance to you, Lord Beachcombe, in a private family affair? That seems quite out of my province.""Alas! I am but too well aware that I have forfeited all right to ask favors of you, Viscountess," he pleaded, "but I know your generous nature so well that I am emboldened to cast myself upon your mercy.""You flatter me!" she cried, with her dazzling smile. "What can my generosity and mercy do for Lord Beachcombe?""I scarcely know. 'Tis but an idea; a mere catching at a straw. Still, I have been credibly informed that you were decoyed last night to the den of Robin Freemantle, the highway-robber, whence, with unparalleled courage, you rescued the queen's necklace—""Surely," she interrupted, with some impatience, "Her Majesty's necklace can not be your private family affair?"He laughed explosively. "Is nothing sacred to you, Lady Prudence? I only wished to felicitate you upon your most remarkable adventure, and its brilliant result, and to implore you to tell me if you found any papers or documents in the—the place where the necklace was hidden.""Was the necklace hidden anywhere?" she inquired, in a tone of surprise. "I did not find it; it was given to me—""By Robin Freemantle—is it not so?" he eagerly interrupted."Robin Freemantle! What could make you imagine that he gave it to me?" she cried, in an accent of intense astonishment."My dear Viscountess, surely you are aware that this rascal, disguised in my mask and domino, followed you the whole evening of the masquerade-ball—""Is it possible?" cried Prue, with the prettiest imaginable air of incredulity. "La! what strange things happen at a masquerade!""Possible? 'Tis a fact," replied Beachcombe; "and 'tis easy to understand that having fallen madly in love with you—""The outrageous monster!" shrieked Prue."Even monsters are human, dear Viscountess, and who can wonder that the beauty that has wrought such havoc in my—in our—-in all beholders, should have smitten this fellow, who is reported to have shadowed your footsteps all Monday night, disguised in a red domino and mask. That mask and domino were mine, and he robbed me of them in the same house by the river-side where you were taken last night. A den of thieves, Viscountess, from which your escape unharmed was hardly less than a miracle.""My escape? Nobody attempted to detain me. In fact I saw no one, and the only danger I escaped was of being taken prisoner by the soldiers who came to search for—rebels, I understood them to say.""Rebels! Ha! ha! 'tis true, this jailbird has the audacity to mix himself up with Jacobite plots and claim that he only steals purses on the chance of their containing papers of value to the Pretender's cause! Speaking of papers brings me back to my own affairs. When this villain stole my domino, he also robbed me of a packet of papers. He returned the domino—after putting it to the use you wot of—but the papers, of great value, he refused to give up. Is it possible, dear Lady Prudence, that while you were in this robber's den, you saw such a packet?"Prue shook her head. "The soldiers took everything they could find in the place," she said reflectively. "If I were you, I would make inquiries of them.""I have done so," he said; "but they brought away no such packet.""Perhaps it was opened and they have the contents.""I have reason to think that unlikely," replied Beachcombe, biting his lips and scowling."Or destroyed?" she suggested."No, indeed; if I could hope for that—!""What, hope for the destruction of valuable private papers? It is not to you, then, that they are valuable?" she cried shrewdly.He started and eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "To no one else," he replied emphatically; "but you can surely understand, Lady Prudence, that some family documents would be better destroyed than in the hands of—an enemy.""Was Rob—Captain Freemantle—your enemy?" she asked ingenuously. "It seems to me that some one—who can it have been?—said he was your relative. He calls himself De Cliffe, doesn't he?"Lord Beachcombe looked at her again with growing mistrust. "Did he have the impudence to call himself De Cliffe, when he addressed you at the ball, Viscountess?" he demanded."La! no; and if he had—people can say anything behind a mask, without fear of being believed," she retorted, laughing. "I recollect now that 'twas Barbara Sweeting, when she told us of the loss of the queen's necklace. She told us how you had obtained his pardon when condemned to be hanged, and afterward set the soldiers upon him—"Beachcombe bent his sullen glance upon the carpet, tracing out its faded pattern with his Malacca cane. "Every family has its painful secrets, Lady Prudence," he began, "and this packet contains one of the De Cliffe family secrets—a painful one, but not important—oh—not at all important. Had the soldiers found it, it would have been an easy matter to recover it—a few guineas at most—but if it is still in his possession—""What like was it?" Prue inquired listlessly, for she was growing weary of a subject that had so little of personal interest for her."The packet? Oh! a small thing, about the size and appearance of a letter—abillet-doux"—he forced a laugh—"sealed and addressed to Mistress—Mistress—the name has escaped me for the moment, but 'twas in care of the Hostess of theFox and Grapes."A sudden glow of color swept across Prue's face. In her joy at finding that the source of many a jealous pang was not Robin's after all, it is to be feared that she quite overlooked the gravity of Lord Beachcombe's accusation. What did it matter to her, whose letter it was—if it were not Robin's—written to another woman? She had an impulse to return it, and her hand involuntarily rose to the laces about her neck, where she had kept it concealed except when she thrust it under her pillow, where it lay all night pervading her dreams.She checked herself quickly, though not quite unobserved. Beachcombe, of course, did not suspect anything so preposterous as that Prue could be interested in the highwayman, beyond the fact that he had made her the heroine of a successful escapade, but her change of countenance, slight as it was, and her gesture, though instantly diverted to a readjustment of the rose at her breast, did not escape his keen eye."You recognize the superscription?" he suggested insinuatingly. "You saw the packet in his hands, perhaps? If—so—""If so," she interrupted quickly, "you have little chance of recovering it, since 'tis said he was drowned last night.""If I could only believe that true!" he exclaimed fiercely. "But no! he escaped; there can be no doubt of that; in fact I have reason to know—""To know that he is safe!" she cried, in a thrilling accent of unmistakable joy. "Oh! Heaven—" then suddenly she remembered that this man was his enemy and desired his death. She stopped short and then went on hurriedly, conscious that she had betrayed herself—"Is it possible that this—this miscreant is still alive and at liberty?"He looked at her dubiously, but although a growing suspicion that she was acting a part disturbed him, it did not yet enlighten him with any ray of the truth."I am as sure of it, as I am that he pursued you at the ball, under cover of my domino—and, for his punishment, fell in love with you," he said boldly."Fell in love with me!" cried Prue disdainfully. "Again, sir? How dare you suggest such presumption!""The fellow certainly does not lack presumption," replied Beachcombe, "and as to his having fallen in love with you, did he not prove his infatuation by surrendering his priceless booty for the sake of seeing you once more, even at the peril of his life? Believe me, dear Viscountess, the man who will risk so much, will risk still more; you have not seen the last of Captain Freemantle.""You think not?" cried Prue. "What do you suppose he will do next?""Probably he will repeat the tactics that he has already pursued with such enviable success," said the earl, with a scarcely perceptible sneer, "and send one of his followers to your ladyship to beseech another interview; or perhaps he will come to you himself.""Heaven forbid!" cried Prue. "I trust he will not attempt anything so—so audacious.""On the contrary, my dear lady," replied Beachcombe blandly, "if you will be guided by me, I think we can turn this fellow's impudence to our mutual advantage.Imost sincerely trust that he will come or send to you, because now he has been routed out of his house by the river-side, we no longer know where he is in hiding. He is not like to return there, but gentlemen of his profession have many haunts, and having induced your ladyship to visit one of them, he will, no doubt, try another.""You seem to forget that there is only one queen's necklace," she cried incautiously. Then, conscious of her indiscretion, she added with too eager precipitation, "Besides, Robin Freemantle had nothing to do with my visit to that house; I was guided there—""By a messenger sent by him, as I understand," interrupted Beachcombe. "'Tis no secret that your ladyship was induced by means of a letter—""Secret! I should think not!" she cried petulantly, tossing the letter upon the table beside him. "All the town seems talking about it, and all the world may read it, for aught I care! I defy the most ingenious scandal-monger to make anything out of it."Lord Beachcombe took it up, and slowly unfolding it, read it carefully, and then looked up with a smile of triumph, that struck a sudden chill to Prue's heart. From his breast he drew a letter addressed to "The Right Honorable Lord Beachcombe. At Rodney House, Saint James' Park, London," and placing the two papers side by side, contemplated them with vindictive satisfaction."There can be no further doubt," he said. "See for yourself, Viscountess, the writing is identical."She looked, and had some difficulty in maintaining her indifference. Furious at herself for having given Beachcombe an opportunity to confirm his suspicions, she had just enough self-command left to see that it was a case ofqui s'excuse s'accuse, and that any attempt at explanation would only plunge her into an inextricable tangle of falsehood. So she merely remarked, in as casual a tone as she could assume, "La me! how curious!" and stretched out her hand for her own document.Beachcombe withheld it. "Pray permit me to retain this, Lady Prudence," he entreated. "It is an important piece of evidence.""More important to me than to your lordship!" she retorted sharply. "Be good enough to return it to me!" and as he still hesitated, she snatched it from his grasp, exclaiming with an angry laugh, "Evidently the liking for other people's 'private papers' runs in the blood of the De Cliffes."With a savage scowl, Lord Beachcombe half-rose from his seat. But Prue had already recovered from her spurt of passion, and with the prettiest deprecating gesture and the most alluring smile she could call up at a moment's notice, she stemmed the tide of his wrath."Oh! forgive me, Lord Beachcombe," she said sweetly. "I am not used to be so cross-questioned and my temper, as you know well, is none of the most patient. Do not let us quarrel over such a trifle as a fancied resemblance between two scraps of writing.""'Tis no fancied resemblance, Lady Prudence, said Beachcombe doggedly."Then if it is a real one, would it not be better for us to see how we can turn it to our mutual advantage, than to wrangle over it?" she suggested. Beachcombe's brow cleared at her conciliatory tone, and his half-awakened suspicions melted under the influence of a sweet and beaming smile."There is nothing easier than to turn it to our advantage and his destruction, dear Viscountess, if you will be guided by me," he said eagerly. "If Captain Freemantle should make another attempt to see you—as I feel convinced he will—surely woman's wit can manage to bring us face to face, or at least to let me know where he is to be found. I am convinced that I could show him excellent reasons for giving up those papers, which would prove dangerously compromising—to him—if discovered in his possession. You could secure yourself from further molestation and promote the ends of justice in this way, and place me under a lifelong obligation.""And how about Captain Freemantle?" suggested Prue. "Would his obligation to me also be lifelong?""Why—no doubt," he replied, with a sinister smile."Well, Lord Beachcombe," said Prue, with a charming smile, "I will give your message to this Knight of the Road—whenI see him—and I doubt not he will wait upon your lordship to receive the benefits you are so anxious to bestow upon him. Oh! you need not thank me" (he had no intention of doing so); "I am always glad to oblige an old friend. And pray do not hurry away; I hear the voice of my gossip, Barbara Sweeting, and presently the rest of London will flock round me to repeat what every one is saying about me, and find out something new to tell in their turn. You, who have given me so much information, can help me to entertain them."CHAPTER XXIIIN A CHAIRMAN'S LIVERYLady Barbara rustled into the room in the most expansive of hoops and the loftiest of heads of lace and feathers, the height, literally, of the mode."Prue, you sly minx, I have come to give you the scolding you deserve," she began, and half-mirthful, half-reproachful, was about to embrace her when her glance fell upon Lord Beachcombe. She started back and turned her eyes from one to the other with exaggerated disapproval, behind which lurked the excitement of the keen hunter on a promising trail.Beachcombe's dark face flushed with an embarrassment that he vainly attempted to conceal under the elaborate politeness of his greeting, but Prue, all innocent smiles, and thoroughly enjoying a situation which put her inquisitor to confusion, flew into her dear friend's arms."How are you, dearest Bab?" she cried. "I am simply perishing for a long, long talk with you. Oh! I havesomuch to tell you—""Not so much as you think, perhaps, wicked one," retorted Barbara, still reproachfully, "but I own I am dying for the key to your mysterious adventures.""Have you, too, come to cross-question me about last night?" cried Prue petulantly. "Before I was out of my bed, the house was besieged. Ah! here is Peggie, who can tell you more about my visitors than I can, for half of them came while I was yet asleep.""'Tis not your visitors I want to hear about, Prue, but yourself. To think, that with such a frolic to the fore, my Prue should have left me without a hint of what was happening! How can I ever forgive it?""Lady Brooke should be pardoned all things for the sake of her heroism," said Beachcombe, with cold irony. "Yet it seems a pity that she should have braved alone the dangers so many of her friends would willingly have shared.""You too?" cried Barbara, raising hands and eyes appealingly to the offended heavens. "Can neither matrimony nor paternity cure the Prue-fever?—nor even phlebotomy at the hands of so skilful a chirurgeon as Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert? Pray, if one may venture to inquire, what may be your interest in the recovery of the queen's necklace, since surely it can not be either friendship or love?"The look he gave her certainly suggested neither of these emotions, but his voice was under better control."My interest, dear Lady Barbara, is so far selfish that as the robbery was perpetrated under cover of my domino, I should certainly have wished to take part in the finding of the jewel—and the thief.""La!" cried Barbara, smiling enigmatically. "How unfortunate that the necklace has been returned and the thief arrested without your assistance!""Arrested!" her auditors exclaimed together, but in very different tones. Lord Beachcombe's vibrated with gratified hatred, Prue's trembled with dismay. The color dropped from her cheek, and but for Peggie's promptitude, her agitation would have betrayed her beyond concealment. She, however, had been hovering on the threshold trying to attract her cousin's attention, and now ran forward with great vivacity, and by a torrent of eager questions, drew attention to herself and gave Prue time to recover from her perturbation, though not before it had been observed with malicious inference by Lord Beachcombe."Why, truly, I scarcely expected to bring news to the fountain-head," Barbara ran on. "Yet 'tis a fact, my poor Prue, that your romance has a very commonplace finale. 'Tis no dashing exploit of a bold highwayman, after all, no hairbreadth escape from a robber's den, but merely the outcome of an intrigue between a chambermaid and a scrivener's clerk; and a fit of vulgar jealousy has pricked the bubble of your romance, my love!"Greatly to the astonishment of both her visitors, Prue's face, instead of falling in dismay, became irradiated with the loveliest expression of joy. Her eyes, softly luminous, swam in a rapturous mist and dimples played in the damask that suddenly drove the pallor from her cheek. Such a transformation could hardly fail to astonish even those most accustomed to the swift variations of this creature of caprice."Tell us quickly, dear Barbara," she cried, with a little tremolo of excitement in her voice. "You know 'twas near midnight when the duchess brought me home, and I was so tired I slept until noon—all my visitors this morning have come to seek information—not to impart it. Do, pray, tell me what has happened.""La! Prue, I thought you would be mortified to death at such a tame ending to your romantic adventure, and you seem delighted," replied Barbara, with pique. "One of the serving-wenches at Marlborough House, finding the royal tiring-room for a moment unguarded, took her sweetheart in, and not content with gazing, they must needs carry their audacity to the point of fingering Her Majesty's toilet-articles, and so came upon the necklace in its case, which so dazzled them, I presume, that they turned crazy, and hearing voices at one door, ran out of another and found themselves back in the servants' quarters with the necklace in their possession. The girl swears they did not mean to steal it, but did not know how to get it back unobserved, and finally the lover, in a panic, fled from the house, carrying the perilous pelf with him.""A probable story, indeed!" cried Beachcombe scoffingly. "It might account for the disappearance of the jewel, but scarcely for its restoration.""Oh! that was a case of conscience, a thing quite incomprehensible of course to an 'esprit fort,' such as your lordship," retorted Barbara. "The girl suffered tortures, it appears, during which she was a dozen times on the point of confessing, but hesitated for fear of incriminating her lover. Then came the story of the return of the necklace, which, by the time it reached the still-room, had grown to the wildest of marvels. After that, no one seems to know exactly what happened, but possibly, between fear of her own part in the affair and rage at the treachery of her lover, the wretched creature lost what few senses she had and actually forced her way into the presence of the duchess, where she groveled on the floor, confessing and accusing and Lord knows what besides, and was carried out raving and foaming at the mouth.""And so she confessed that she and her lover had stolen, or at any rate carried off the necklace," commented Prue thoughtfully."Then how do you account for its restoration by Robin Freemantle?" Beachcombe inquired, with his stealthy eyes upon her."Do you persist, even now, in connecting him with this affair?" she retorted, facing him defiantly. "For my part, I am now thoroughly convinced that it was a very vulgar matter and that I have been made a fool and a tool of by a pack of low wretches. Do not let any one who does not wish to offend me, ever mention my part in it again.""On the contrary—" Barbara was beginning, when Peggie, from the window, uttered a cry of admiration."Is that your new chair at the door, Barbara?" she cried. "Sure, 'tis the finest in town!""Ah! I had for the moment forgotten—'twas but to display it I came here this afternoon—to show that and to scold Prue for a faithless friend."They all followed her to the window, and in the street below stood a most superb sedan-chair, all carving and gilding, lined and curtained with crimson, and borne by four strapping footmen in liveries to match."'Tis truly magnificent," cried Lord Beachcombe. "All the world admires the taste of Lady Barbara Sweeting, but this time she has given us something to marvel at."While he was speaking, Peggie plucked at Prue's sleeve and murmured in her ear, "In the library," with a glance and gesture that needed no interpretation. With an immense effort of self-control, Prue stopped long enough to compliment her friend on her new and gorgeous equipage, and then slipped away, with her heart throbbing in her throat, and ran down-stairs, to find Robin awaiting her, rather inefficiently disguised in a gold-laced velvet coat and a voluminous periwig, in which his marked resemblance to Lord Beachcombe struck Prue with absolute consternation."Robin, Robin!" she cried, when the door was closed, "how could you dream of coming here, of all places?""I have dreamed of nothing else," he replied. His eyes were glowing and his whole countenance transformed by a sublime transport of adoration. Few men are capable of this ecstasy and few women privileged to behold it; none, it may be conjectured, can resist its enchantment. Prue, trembling with a strange joy, yielded to the arms of her lover-husband, and there forgot everything else for a few blissful moments."Dearest, you must not stay here," she murmured, when he released her lips, "your worst enemy is in this house." And in a few rapid words she told him of Lord Beachcombe's search after the papers, his prediction of Robin's visit and his suggestion of using her as a bait to the trap he proposed setting for him."Go, now—at once, Robin, my husband, and send me word where to come to you; it is safer so. Oh! I will come! you need not fear—you see, I do not even ask if you want me to! Send for me, and be not too tardy about it—""Tardy, Heart of my heart," he murmured, with his lips to hers. "Every moment I spend away from you is an eternity in purgatory. If I must go, tell me that you love me, that I may have something to live upon until we meet again.""Oh! I love you, Robin—indeed I love you—yet I take blame to myself for telling you so often, who have never yet said it to me. Some day you will, mayhap, remind me that I did all the wooing, and all the marrying, too! Nay, swear to me, Robin, that thou'lt forget that ever I asked thee to many me—" and she hid her face, all blushing with love and shame, upon his shoulder."Forget!" he exclaimed. "If ever I forget, it will be because my body is dust and my soul in torment! Yet I can not believe it. I fear to close my eyes in sleep, lest when I wake I shall find I have been dreaming—dreaming that these arms have held the dearest and sweetest woman in all the world and these most unworthy lips have been permitted to offer her worship. Oh! I scarcely dare to say, 'I love you.' I would I knew some other word that could express the adoration that fills my heart to bursting! I loved you the moment my eyes fell on your angel face—from the moment I kissed you. Oh! how dared I kiss you? Yet I was punished! You can not imagine the fire that kiss left in my veins—the unappeasable longing in my heart!" His lips were seeking hers again, but she thrust him away with tender vehemence."No, no," she cried, "don't stop to kiss me now, but go, while yet the way is open."She had her hand upon the lock when it turned gently and the door opened a few inches. The eyes of Lord Beachcombe and Robin met over Prue's head and the flash of mutual animosity struck through her like an electric current. She glanced quickly from one to the other, and the secret of their kinship revealed itself so convincingly in the two faces that she did not even feel surprised. It seemed as if she must always have known that they were brothers.The door closed again so swiftly that the whole incident was over before any one could have drawn a breath."It is too late!" whispered Prue, then threw herself into Robin's arms in a kind of desperation that was half rapture. "He will betray you, but they must take me too; I will not be separated from you.""He will not come here for me," said Robin, cool and practical in the presence of danger. "It will be best for me to go at once, before he has time to call assistance. I can surely beat off half-a-dozen of his lackeys single-handed. If I give him time to set a posse of constables in wait for me, I may have more trouble with them. Farewell, Heart of gold; I will send a safe messenger to you soon. Oh! I must see you again very soon; I have so much to say to you—""Yet, wait," said Prue, detaining him. "Let me think; I would not risk your life unnecessarily. Stay here and I will return instantly."She was back in a few minutes accompanied by a gorgeous vision of rich brocade and costly lace. These embellishments fitly set off a stately figure that had once been slenderer and a charming face that showed few of the ravages of time and, indeed, had more than replaced the graces of youth by the archness and gaiety time had but enhanced."Barbara, this is my friend Captain de Cliffe," said Prue. "We met in the North Country. Permit me to present him to you."Lady Barbara's evident astonishment did not affect the ceremoniousness of her deep curtsey, to which Robin, not less surprised by Prue's manoeuver, responded with a gravely respectful salute."Methinks I have heard of your meeting with this gentleman—on Bleakmoor," said Barbara, with twinkling eyes. "I, myself, claim a distant kinship with the De Cliffes; what branch do you belong to, Captain?""I am an unworthy twig of the senior branch," replied Robin."Ah! that accounts for your strong resemblance to the late earl," said Barbara, seating herself near the window, and so compelling him to face the light, while she coolly scrutinized him. "And if the present earl were a handsome fellow, you would be like enough for brothers. As it is—""As it is, he hates me like a brother," said Robin negligently, "and in that the resemblance between us is not to be denied.""Dear Barbara," cried Prue, "let me make a confession to you. Captain de Cliffe is also known as Robin Freemantle, the highwayman.""And when I told you so t'other day, you pretended to be surprised," cried Barbara reproachfully. "Little did I ever expect that my Prue would so deceive me.""'Twas not to deceive you, dear Barbara, but a roomful of curious gossips, all ready to fall upon poor little me and tear my secret to shreds. Scold me as much as you will, some other time, dearest Bab, but help us now!""Us?" cried Barbara, turning her shrewd eyes from one to the other with sudden enlightenment. "Aha!" she smiled knowingly, and Prue, blushing and faltering, found no word to explain away her unvoiced suspicion. "I am glad, at any rate," she went on rather dryly, "to find Sir Geoffrey's nose out of joint! But if you want help, why did you not ask Beachcombe, who seems all too willing to return to your feet, and who has already, if I am not mistaken, once rescued this gentleman from Newgate?""Barbara, he wishes nothing so much as to get him back there. Scarce an hour ago he proposed to me to decoy him here that he might seize him and rob him of valuable papers. No doubt he would kill him if he resisted, or throw him into prison. So now, dear Barbara, help me to devise some way of getting him away from here unobserved.""That is not difficult," Barbara assured her. "My new chair is amply large for two. If Captain de Cliffe will give me his arm, we will walk out of this house together and he can escort me home.""But, Bab, if that wretch is on the watch, he may attack you. Remember, he has seen Rob—Captain de Cliffe here, and if you had seen his face as I did, when he looked in at the door! Oh, you may be sure that even you would not be safe at his hands, if you stood between him and the object of his hatred!""I have a better plan," said Barbara, laughing mischievously, "and one that promises more diversion. You are tall, Captain," she looked him over with an approving eye, "a proper man, i' faith! Do you think you could be trusted to take the place of one of my chairmen? They are all six-foot men, chosen to match in size; I am very fastidious in such matters. Three are new to my service, but the fourth is a faithful lad, who can be trusted to hold his tongue. In his livery you can defy my Lord Beachcombe and his myrmidons and walk away under their noses."This proposition was quite to Prue's taste and Robin, who was too anxious to get away without causing her any serious trouble, to care much in what guise he fared forth, gratefully consented. So James was despatched to call Lady Barbara's man Thomas, to whom she conveyed her commands in the fewest possible words, and the two ladies withdrew while the exchange of costume was effected, and the stolid Thomas, too well accustomed to his mistress' whims to raise the least question, resigned his crimson coat and gold-laced hat, his silk stockings and buckled shoes, and even his powdered bob-wig, to the new chairman.By this time Prue's usual afternoon court was assembling in far greater numbers than the little house could easily accommodate, and the rustle of brocades and the ripple of gay voices filled the air. Outside the library Barbara hesitated. "I think I will not go back to your visitors, Prue, my tongue is apt to slip out of my control and I might say something compromising," she said. Then, seeing the door open into the empty dining-room, she went in, drawing Prue after her."Is it serious, child?" she demanded, with a hand on each shoulder and Prue's eyes vainly attempting to meet her searching gaze unflinchingly. "Is it possible that the heart that has resisted a hundred and one skilled assaults can have surrendered to the 'Stand and deliver' of a brigand? Come, tell me everything!—if you are in love with him—""Oh! no, no!" cried Prue, shrinking in horror from the extent of the revelation she might be drawn into if she began with such an admission. "Love! what nonsense—for a highwayman?" and she laughed, though with less than her usual abandon."Yet he is a charming fellow," said Barbara insinuatingly. "He might have caught your fancy—but, in fact," in a gay tone, "I'm glad he has not, for to own the truth, I am more than half disposed to carry off your highwayman and hold him prisoner for a day or two. 'Twill be safer for him and his adventures will surely keep me entertained for a while—and, who knows? I might amuse myself by making a conquest of this gentle savage!""Oh! Barbara, fie!" cried Prue, to whom the picture of Robin under the influence of another woman's fascinations was far from agreeable."It is condescension enough for you to save his life—""Condescension i' faith," laughed Barbara. "At least I can promise thatmycondescension shall end—where charity begins—at home! Eh, Prue? Well, I hear my new retainer in the hall, so fare thee well, dear Gossip," and with a kiss on either cheek, she rustled out and was respectfully assisted into her chair by Robin, who then took Thomas' vacant place at the rear pole.The street was thronged with the equipages of Prue's visitors and, mingling with the crowd, Lord Beachcombe, closely followed by half-a-dozen lusty fellows, exchanged greetings here and there, without relaxing his vigilant watch upon the entrance. He scarcely vouchsafed a glance toward Lady Barbara, and as she swung past him in her gorgeous sedan-chair, with her four tall chairmen at full trot, she was so elated that she had half a mind to stop and speak to him. But wisdom prevailed with her, for once, and she contented herself with waving her jeweled fan in saucy greeting. He responded with a careless wave of the hand, and the next minute she was out of sight.
"'At a time when the whole country is terrorized by highwaymen and footpads, singly and in bands, news of the extermination of the notorious gang of robbers under the leadership of Robin Freemantle (recently condemned to be hanged at Tyburn for his crimes and later mysteriously released) will be highly gratifying to the traveling public who go in constant fear of their lives because of the boldness of these marauders, who infest the very streets of the metropolis. No longer ago than last Monday L—d B—ch—e was attacked by these very miscreants, robbed and held in captivity (doubtless for ransom) while Robin Freemantle, disguised in his captive's domino, attended the masquerade at Marlborough House and robbed the duchess' guests—not even sparing, if rumor may be credited, the queen's most sacred Majesty!!
"'But for this piece of shameless audacity, the ruffians might still be at large and the hangman still looking forward hopefully to his fees. We have it on unimpeachable authority that a certain beautiful v-sc-t-ss, renowned equally for her lively adventures and her incomparable charms, determined to avenge this outrage upon her sovereign mistress, and with undaunted courage and marvelous shrewdness, tracked the robber to his lair and actually recovered the stolen jewels!!! Then, at a preconcerted signal, soldiers surrounded the house, and when the robber-band attempted to escape by the river, sank the boat with all the fugitives on board. The exact number is not known, but must assuredly have been large—probably a dozen or a score. One thing only is certain—none remained in the house and none can possibly have escaped—'
"There is more about the affair, but nothing that will interest you as much as that last paragraph," said Sir Geoffrey, folding the sheet.
"It is certainly most interesting to hear that there were twenty miscreants in the house," cried Prue, who had had time during the reading (which was impressively deliberate and pompous) to recover her self-command. "My exploit is vastly enhanced by the large number of human lions and tigers I bearded in their den. I begin to feel myself a heroine indeed!"
"There could be but one opinion as to that," said Sir Geoffrey, with a profound bow that scarcely accorded with the cold irony of his smile.
"Pray keep my counsel, and do not tell any one that I never saw any of the twenty robbers, and in fact had no idea that there were any in the place," said Prue. "You don't know how much I am indebted to you, Sir Geoffrey, for all the information you have given me about my little adventure!"
"I am indeed happy in being the first to assure you of its fortunate ending," said Sir Geoffrey, rising. "Surely you will now permit me, dearest, to urge my suit"—he dropped upon one knee before her, and had pressed several passionate kisses upon her hand before she made any attempt to repel him.
"That will do for the present, Sir Geoffrey," she said at last. "Please get up and be rational. You do not expect me, I presume, to send for a parson and marry you offhand? Imaybe a widow again; but I must have surer proof of it than a mere rumor, such as this, before I wed again. I have yet to be convinced that Captain de Cliffe left that house—that he ever was in it! 'Tis strange you should insist upon that—methinks that for a suitor so eager to press his own claims, you are over-ready to accuse me of keeping tryst with another—husband!"
"Accuse, sweet Prudence! You mistake me altogether. Too well, alas! do I know the coldness of your heart and the inaccessible distance from which your adorers are expected to admire you. Surely, you do not think me capable of a doubt?"
"You were capable of spying on me and following me, by your own showing," she retorted sharply.
"For your own sake, dearest; merely to be ready in case you needed a strong arm and a skilled sword to defend you. And all I ask now is that you will accept that protection for life and give me the right to silence every malicious tongue with the public announcement of our approaching marriage. Who will dare," Sir Geoffrey went on, in his most grandiloquent manner, "to defame the lady of whom I am ready to say, 'This is my promised wife; her honor is mine?'"
"A truce to your braggadocio, my good friend," laughed Prue; "your tragic tones and frowning looks almost persuade me that I need protection! Believe me, you are in a far worse case than I; you stand greatly in need of a disinterested adviser, who would counsel you to leave me before too late, or at least take time—a year or two, we will say—to think it over."
"Was there ever a lover that listened to such counsel? Not if he loved as I do, dear one. So far from waiting a year, I swear that a week is too long, and that if you do not marry me to-morrow—"
He hesitated and Prue took him up sharply. "What if I do not marry you to-morrow? Pray finish your threat, so that I may know what fate awaits me, since I shall certainly not marry to-morrow, neither next week, nor, perchance, next year!"
"And does your ladyship imagine that I, Geoffrey Beaudesert, will swell the ranks of those whom the beautiful Viscountess Brooke has left lamenting at the church-door?" demanded the suitor, giving way at last to his long-suppressed fury. "No, no, you can not play with me as you did with Beachcombe, O'Keefe, Sutherland and a dozen others. To-day I love you to distraction; you may bend me to your lightest caprice with a kind word. But scorn me, and to-morrow you will have an enemy with the will, as well as the power, to cover you with shame. Aye, shame, Lady Prudence Brooke!" as she sprang to her feet with blazing eyes. "Where will you hide your head when all the world knows how and why you became the wife of an outlaw and a felon—the thief who stole the queen's necklace, for a nuptial gift to his bride! Ha, ha! that will be a feast indeed for the scandal-mongers of London Town!"
"And Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert—how will he appear in the affair?" she retorted. "This is not the first time to-day that you have threatened me, Sir Geoffrey, but I advise you to let it be the last, for I warn you that if you drive me to do so, I may tell the story myself; and my version of it will not leave you entirely unscathed. How could I have done this thing—thisshameful, scandalousthing, as you truly call it—if you had not helped; nay, pushed me into it? Who bought the ring and license, and hired the parson? He was an ordained Church-of-England clergyman, was he not? If I am not mistaken, it was you who ordered him to make the marriage-service 'brief and binding,' and bade him keep his own counsel until his evidence was needed to prove me Captain de Cliffe's widow? If the scandal-mongers of London Town feast at my expense, they will certainly banquet at yours! And if you talk of enemies—but no, we are not silly children to wrangle over trifles, and scratch and slap each other's face because we can not have our own way all the time. Let us forget this folly and talk of pleasanter things."
"No subject is pleasant to me but one—yourself," said Sir Geoffrey, with an effort to resume his ordinary manner. "Believe me, however impatient I may appear as a lover, as a husband you will find me a pattern of indulgence. But do not, I entreat you, try my patience much longer."
"No doubt, Sir Geoffrey, I ought to be flattered by your persistence," replied Prue petulantly, "but if you have so little delicacy as to press one husband upon me before the other is in his grave, you surely are not anxious to inflict upon me the possible fate of a bigamist? If, perchance, one of these twenty highwaymen escaped, and that one proved to be the one you helped me to marry, your hasty wooing might cause poor Prudence Brooke to blossom on Tyburn Tree or, worse still, to end her days on a cotton plantation. 'Tis strange how much more anxious you are to wed me since I became a wife, than you were when I wasreallya widow! Then I heard nothing about post-chaises and elopements—"
"Because then, dear Prue, I had not known the torture of Tantalus, the anguish of seeing you within reach of my arms, yet held at an inaccessible distance by the accursed phantom of a husband, who was no husband and never could be one. Pardon me if I am unable to restrain my jealous ardor, and believe me, if you will but set a time for rewarding my devotion, I will endeavor, however difficult the task, not to offend again."
Prue reflected a few moments. Then she rose, with an air that left Sir Geoffrey no choice but to follow her example.
"Sir Geoffrey," she said, "I am invited to accompany the queen to Windsor, whither she intends to go this week for a few days' rest, and perchance to be out of hearing of the wrangling of Whigs and Tories for a season. When I return, if you are still in the same mind, I promise to be ready with an answer, with which I shall hope to satisfy you. In the meantime, I shall not take it amiss if you reflect seriously upon the many defects of my character and the great disadvantages you will bring on yourself by marrying penniless me, instead of seeking out some charming heiress—of whom I could point out several, both maids and widows—to whom your many noble qualities—and your title—would be irresistible."
She made him the deepest of curtseys, preserving all the time a countenance so grave and dignified that he was completely silenced, and was withdrawing without further remonstrance, when the door was flung open, and James, in his most impressive; manner, announced:
"Lord Beachcombe."
CHAPTER XXI
AN AFFAIR OF FAMILY
There was a momentary pause of embarrassment. Lord Beachcombe's last visit to Lady Drumloch's house had been under circumstances that made the present one quite unforeseen. Also he had not met Sir Geoffrey since their hostile encounter in Hyde Park, therefore a meeting in the presence of the woman who had been so disturbing an element in both their lives, was mutually disconcerting.
Sir Geoffrey was the first to recover himself, greeting the new arrival with exaggerated politeness and inquiring after his health with a solicitude that Lord Beachcombe did not attempt to reciprocate. The wound he had received from Sir Geoffrey's sword was slight enough to be patched up with a few strips of court-plaster; the wound to his vanity still gaped. He looked on with a sardonic smile while Sir Geoffrey, pressing several impassioned kisses upon Prue's reluctant hand, bade her "a brief adieu," and slowly backed himself to the door.
"I trust I am not driving Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert away," said Beachcombe stiffly.
"By no means," cried Prue with alacrity. "Sir Geoffrey was taking his leave when you entered. Sir Geoffrey, farewell. No doubt we shall meet at Lady Rialton's, or elsewhere, later in the day; our world is so small, we can not get away from one another even for an hour; don't you find it sometimes grows monotonous, Lord Beachcombe?"
As the door closed upon the parting guest, Beachcombe approached her with an air of distant respect, bowing profoundly, with his hand upon his breast.
"Pardon this intrusion, Lady Prudence, and permit me to lay my homage at your feet," he said.
Prue curtsied again. "Pray, my Lord, do not wound me by apologizing for a friendly visit," she returned, with a sweet smile. "Be seated, and let me offer you a cup of chocolate."
The little torment had jumped quickly to the conclusion that some motive of strong personal interest had brought her old lover to the house he had never entered since, scarcely a year ago, their troth had been broken with bitter words and thinly veiled insults on both sides. Her quick intuition warned her that his visit might, very possibly, add another snarl to the tangle in which she felt herself becoming hopelessly enmeshed. So she exerted all her tact and skill to keep him on tenter-hooks, and give herself time to gather her forces, while she discussed frothy scandals and airy nothings, pretending not to notice his lack of response and ill-repressed impatience, until suddenly she turned full upon him her clear and dazzling glance and changed her tactics without a moment's warning.
"But I had forgotten," she said, "how little you care about scandal and poetry, and I can scarcely flatter myself that my frivolous conversation can be very entertaining to you. My tongue runs away with me sadly, doesn't it? I dare say you remember of old what a chatterbox I am. Well," with a sudden change of tone, "now tell me what really brought you to see me?"
Her abrupt question had the intended effect of confusing her visitor and throwing him off his guard, while her ingenuous smile disarmed him.
"Your conversation is delightful at all times, Lady Prudence," he began hurriedly; "so much information—such—ah—intimate knowledge of society—and literature is as rare as it is agreeable. Nothing should I enjoy so much, if I did not have my head so full of a subject which—a—private family affair—which—which—"
He trailed off helplessly, and she let him flounder until his embarrassment ceased to amuse her. Then she said quietly:
"How canIbe of any assistance to you, Lord Beachcombe, in a private family affair? That seems quite out of my province."
"Alas! I am but too well aware that I have forfeited all right to ask favors of you, Viscountess," he pleaded, "but I know your generous nature so well that I am emboldened to cast myself upon your mercy."
"You flatter me!" she cried, with her dazzling smile. "What can my generosity and mercy do for Lord Beachcombe?"
"I scarcely know. 'Tis but an idea; a mere catching at a straw. Still, I have been credibly informed that you were decoyed last night to the den of Robin Freemantle, the highway-robber, whence, with unparalleled courage, you rescued the queen's necklace—"
"Surely," she interrupted, with some impatience, "Her Majesty's necklace can not be your private family affair?"
He laughed explosively. "Is nothing sacred to you, Lady Prudence? I only wished to felicitate you upon your most remarkable adventure, and its brilliant result, and to implore you to tell me if you found any papers or documents in the—the place where the necklace was hidden."
"Was the necklace hidden anywhere?" she inquired, in a tone of surprise. "I did not find it; it was given to me—"
"By Robin Freemantle—is it not so?" he eagerly interrupted.
"Robin Freemantle! What could make you imagine that he gave it to me?" she cried, in an accent of intense astonishment.
"My dear Viscountess, surely you are aware that this rascal, disguised in my mask and domino, followed you the whole evening of the masquerade-ball—"
"Is it possible?" cried Prue, with the prettiest imaginable air of incredulity. "La! what strange things happen at a masquerade!"
"Possible? 'Tis a fact," replied Beachcombe; "and 'tis easy to understand that having fallen madly in love with you—"
"The outrageous monster!" shrieked Prue.
"Even monsters are human, dear Viscountess, and who can wonder that the beauty that has wrought such havoc in my—in our—-in all beholders, should have smitten this fellow, who is reported to have shadowed your footsteps all Monday night, disguised in a red domino and mask. That mask and domino were mine, and he robbed me of them in the same house by the river-side where you were taken last night. A den of thieves, Viscountess, from which your escape unharmed was hardly less than a miracle."
"My escape? Nobody attempted to detain me. In fact I saw no one, and the only danger I escaped was of being taken prisoner by the soldiers who came to search for—rebels, I understood them to say."
"Rebels! Ha! ha! 'tis true, this jailbird has the audacity to mix himself up with Jacobite plots and claim that he only steals purses on the chance of their containing papers of value to the Pretender's cause! Speaking of papers brings me back to my own affairs. When this villain stole my domino, he also robbed me of a packet of papers. He returned the domino—after putting it to the use you wot of—but the papers, of great value, he refused to give up. Is it possible, dear Lady Prudence, that while you were in this robber's den, you saw such a packet?"
Prue shook her head. "The soldiers took everything they could find in the place," she said reflectively. "If I were you, I would make inquiries of them."
"I have done so," he said; "but they brought away no such packet."
"Perhaps it was opened and they have the contents."
"I have reason to think that unlikely," replied Beachcombe, biting his lips and scowling.
"Or destroyed?" she suggested.
"No, indeed; if I could hope for that—!"
"What, hope for the destruction of valuable private papers? It is not to you, then, that they are valuable?" she cried shrewdly.
He started and eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "To no one else," he replied emphatically; "but you can surely understand, Lady Prudence, that some family documents would be better destroyed than in the hands of—an enemy."
"Was Rob—Captain Freemantle—your enemy?" she asked ingenuously. "It seems to me that some one—who can it have been?—said he was your relative. He calls himself De Cliffe, doesn't he?"
Lord Beachcombe looked at her again with growing mistrust. "Did he have the impudence to call himself De Cliffe, when he addressed you at the ball, Viscountess?" he demanded.
"La! no; and if he had—people can say anything behind a mask, without fear of being believed," she retorted, laughing. "I recollect now that 'twas Barbara Sweeting, when she told us of the loss of the queen's necklace. She told us how you had obtained his pardon when condemned to be hanged, and afterward set the soldiers upon him—"
Beachcombe bent his sullen glance upon the carpet, tracing out its faded pattern with his Malacca cane. "Every family has its painful secrets, Lady Prudence," he began, "and this packet contains one of the De Cliffe family secrets—a painful one, but not important—oh—not at all important. Had the soldiers found it, it would have been an easy matter to recover it—a few guineas at most—but if it is still in his possession—"
"What like was it?" Prue inquired listlessly, for she was growing weary of a subject that had so little of personal interest for her.
"The packet? Oh! a small thing, about the size and appearance of a letter—abillet-doux"—he forced a laugh—"sealed and addressed to Mistress—Mistress—the name has escaped me for the moment, but 'twas in care of the Hostess of theFox and Grapes."
A sudden glow of color swept across Prue's face. In her joy at finding that the source of many a jealous pang was not Robin's after all, it is to be feared that she quite overlooked the gravity of Lord Beachcombe's accusation. What did it matter to her, whose letter it was—if it were not Robin's—written to another woman? She had an impulse to return it, and her hand involuntarily rose to the laces about her neck, where she had kept it concealed except when she thrust it under her pillow, where it lay all night pervading her dreams.
She checked herself quickly, though not quite unobserved. Beachcombe, of course, did not suspect anything so preposterous as that Prue could be interested in the highwayman, beyond the fact that he had made her the heroine of a successful escapade, but her change of countenance, slight as it was, and her gesture, though instantly diverted to a readjustment of the rose at her breast, did not escape his keen eye.
"You recognize the superscription?" he suggested insinuatingly. "You saw the packet in his hands, perhaps? If—so—"
"If so," she interrupted quickly, "you have little chance of recovering it, since 'tis said he was drowned last night."
"If I could only believe that true!" he exclaimed fiercely. "But no! he escaped; there can be no doubt of that; in fact I have reason to know—"
"To know that he is safe!" she cried, in a thrilling accent of unmistakable joy. "Oh! Heaven—" then suddenly she remembered that this man was his enemy and desired his death. She stopped short and then went on hurriedly, conscious that she had betrayed herself—"Is it possible that this—this miscreant is still alive and at liberty?"
He looked at her dubiously, but although a growing suspicion that she was acting a part disturbed him, it did not yet enlighten him with any ray of the truth.
"I am as sure of it, as I am that he pursued you at the ball, under cover of my domino—and, for his punishment, fell in love with you," he said boldly.
"Fell in love with me!" cried Prue disdainfully. "Again, sir? How dare you suggest such presumption!"
"The fellow certainly does not lack presumption," replied Beachcombe, "and as to his having fallen in love with you, did he not prove his infatuation by surrendering his priceless booty for the sake of seeing you once more, even at the peril of his life? Believe me, dear Viscountess, the man who will risk so much, will risk still more; you have not seen the last of Captain Freemantle."
"You think not?" cried Prue. "What do you suppose he will do next?"
"Probably he will repeat the tactics that he has already pursued with such enviable success," said the earl, with a scarcely perceptible sneer, "and send one of his followers to your ladyship to beseech another interview; or perhaps he will come to you himself."
"Heaven forbid!" cried Prue. "I trust he will not attempt anything so—so audacious."
"On the contrary, my dear lady," replied Beachcombe blandly, "if you will be guided by me, I think we can turn this fellow's impudence to our mutual advantage.Imost sincerely trust that he will come or send to you, because now he has been routed out of his house by the river-side, we no longer know where he is in hiding. He is not like to return there, but gentlemen of his profession have many haunts, and having induced your ladyship to visit one of them, he will, no doubt, try another."
"You seem to forget that there is only one queen's necklace," she cried incautiously. Then, conscious of her indiscretion, she added with too eager precipitation, "Besides, Robin Freemantle had nothing to do with my visit to that house; I was guided there—"
"By a messenger sent by him, as I understand," interrupted Beachcombe. "'Tis no secret that your ladyship was induced by means of a letter—"
"Secret! I should think not!" she cried petulantly, tossing the letter upon the table beside him. "All the town seems talking about it, and all the world may read it, for aught I care! I defy the most ingenious scandal-monger to make anything out of it."
Lord Beachcombe took it up, and slowly unfolding it, read it carefully, and then looked up with a smile of triumph, that struck a sudden chill to Prue's heart. From his breast he drew a letter addressed to "The Right Honorable Lord Beachcombe. At Rodney House, Saint James' Park, London," and placing the two papers side by side, contemplated them with vindictive satisfaction.
"There can be no further doubt," he said. "See for yourself, Viscountess, the writing is identical."
She looked, and had some difficulty in maintaining her indifference. Furious at herself for having given Beachcombe an opportunity to confirm his suspicions, she had just enough self-command left to see that it was a case ofqui s'excuse s'accuse, and that any attempt at explanation would only plunge her into an inextricable tangle of falsehood. So she merely remarked, in as casual a tone as she could assume, "La me! how curious!" and stretched out her hand for her own document.
Beachcombe withheld it. "Pray permit me to retain this, Lady Prudence," he entreated. "It is an important piece of evidence."
"More important to me than to your lordship!" she retorted sharply. "Be good enough to return it to me!" and as he still hesitated, she snatched it from his grasp, exclaiming with an angry laugh, "Evidently the liking for other people's 'private papers' runs in the blood of the De Cliffes."
With a savage scowl, Lord Beachcombe half-rose from his seat. But Prue had already recovered from her spurt of passion, and with the prettiest deprecating gesture and the most alluring smile she could call up at a moment's notice, she stemmed the tide of his wrath.
"Oh! forgive me, Lord Beachcombe," she said sweetly. "I am not used to be so cross-questioned and my temper, as you know well, is none of the most patient. Do not let us quarrel over such a trifle as a fancied resemblance between two scraps of writing."
"'Tis no fancied resemblance, Lady Prudence, said Beachcombe doggedly.
"Then if it is a real one, would it not be better for us to see how we can turn it to our mutual advantage, than to wrangle over it?" she suggested. Beachcombe's brow cleared at her conciliatory tone, and his half-awakened suspicions melted under the influence of a sweet and beaming smile.
"There is nothing easier than to turn it to our advantage and his destruction, dear Viscountess, if you will be guided by me," he said eagerly. "If Captain Freemantle should make another attempt to see you—as I feel convinced he will—surely woman's wit can manage to bring us face to face, or at least to let me know where he is to be found. I am convinced that I could show him excellent reasons for giving up those papers, which would prove dangerously compromising—to him—if discovered in his possession. You could secure yourself from further molestation and promote the ends of justice in this way, and place me under a lifelong obligation."
"And how about Captain Freemantle?" suggested Prue. "Would his obligation to me also be lifelong?"
"Why—no doubt," he replied, with a sinister smile.
"Well, Lord Beachcombe," said Prue, with a charming smile, "I will give your message to this Knight of the Road—whenI see him—and I doubt not he will wait upon your lordship to receive the benefits you are so anxious to bestow upon him. Oh! you need not thank me" (he had no intention of doing so); "I am always glad to oblige an old friend. And pray do not hurry away; I hear the voice of my gossip, Barbara Sweeting, and presently the rest of London will flock round me to repeat what every one is saying about me, and find out something new to tell in their turn. You, who have given me so much information, can help me to entertain them."
CHAPTER XXII
IN A CHAIRMAN'S LIVERY
Lady Barbara rustled into the room in the most expansive of hoops and the loftiest of heads of lace and feathers, the height, literally, of the mode.
"Prue, you sly minx, I have come to give you the scolding you deserve," she began, and half-mirthful, half-reproachful, was about to embrace her when her glance fell upon Lord Beachcombe. She started back and turned her eyes from one to the other with exaggerated disapproval, behind which lurked the excitement of the keen hunter on a promising trail.
Beachcombe's dark face flushed with an embarrassment that he vainly attempted to conceal under the elaborate politeness of his greeting, but Prue, all innocent smiles, and thoroughly enjoying a situation which put her inquisitor to confusion, flew into her dear friend's arms.
"How are you, dearest Bab?" she cried. "I am simply perishing for a long, long talk with you. Oh! I havesomuch to tell you—"
"Not so much as you think, perhaps, wicked one," retorted Barbara, still reproachfully, "but I own I am dying for the key to your mysterious adventures."
"Have you, too, come to cross-question me about last night?" cried Prue petulantly. "Before I was out of my bed, the house was besieged. Ah! here is Peggie, who can tell you more about my visitors than I can, for half of them came while I was yet asleep."
"'Tis not your visitors I want to hear about, Prue, but yourself. To think, that with such a frolic to the fore, my Prue should have left me without a hint of what was happening! How can I ever forgive it?"
"Lady Brooke should be pardoned all things for the sake of her heroism," said Beachcombe, with cold irony. "Yet it seems a pity that she should have braved alone the dangers so many of her friends would willingly have shared."
"You too?" cried Barbara, raising hands and eyes appealingly to the offended heavens. "Can neither matrimony nor paternity cure the Prue-fever?—nor even phlebotomy at the hands of so skilful a chirurgeon as Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert? Pray, if one may venture to inquire, what may be your interest in the recovery of the queen's necklace, since surely it can not be either friendship or love?"
The look he gave her certainly suggested neither of these emotions, but his voice was under better control.
"My interest, dear Lady Barbara, is so far selfish that as the robbery was perpetrated under cover of my domino, I should certainly have wished to take part in the finding of the jewel—and the thief."
"La!" cried Barbara, smiling enigmatically. "How unfortunate that the necklace has been returned and the thief arrested without your assistance!"
"Arrested!" her auditors exclaimed together, but in very different tones. Lord Beachcombe's vibrated with gratified hatred, Prue's trembled with dismay. The color dropped from her cheek, and but for Peggie's promptitude, her agitation would have betrayed her beyond concealment. She, however, had been hovering on the threshold trying to attract her cousin's attention, and now ran forward with great vivacity, and by a torrent of eager questions, drew attention to herself and gave Prue time to recover from her perturbation, though not before it had been observed with malicious inference by Lord Beachcombe.
"Why, truly, I scarcely expected to bring news to the fountain-head," Barbara ran on. "Yet 'tis a fact, my poor Prue, that your romance has a very commonplace finale. 'Tis no dashing exploit of a bold highwayman, after all, no hairbreadth escape from a robber's den, but merely the outcome of an intrigue between a chambermaid and a scrivener's clerk; and a fit of vulgar jealousy has pricked the bubble of your romance, my love!"
Greatly to the astonishment of both her visitors, Prue's face, instead of falling in dismay, became irradiated with the loveliest expression of joy. Her eyes, softly luminous, swam in a rapturous mist and dimples played in the damask that suddenly drove the pallor from her cheek. Such a transformation could hardly fail to astonish even those most accustomed to the swift variations of this creature of caprice.
"Tell us quickly, dear Barbara," she cried, with a little tremolo of excitement in her voice. "You know 'twas near midnight when the duchess brought me home, and I was so tired I slept until noon—all my visitors this morning have come to seek information—not to impart it. Do, pray, tell me what has happened."
"La! Prue, I thought you would be mortified to death at such a tame ending to your romantic adventure, and you seem delighted," replied Barbara, with pique. "One of the serving-wenches at Marlborough House, finding the royal tiring-room for a moment unguarded, took her sweetheart in, and not content with gazing, they must needs carry their audacity to the point of fingering Her Majesty's toilet-articles, and so came upon the necklace in its case, which so dazzled them, I presume, that they turned crazy, and hearing voices at one door, ran out of another and found themselves back in the servants' quarters with the necklace in their possession. The girl swears they did not mean to steal it, but did not know how to get it back unobserved, and finally the lover, in a panic, fled from the house, carrying the perilous pelf with him."
"A probable story, indeed!" cried Beachcombe scoffingly. "It might account for the disappearance of the jewel, but scarcely for its restoration."
"Oh! that was a case of conscience, a thing quite incomprehensible of course to an 'esprit fort,' such as your lordship," retorted Barbara. "The girl suffered tortures, it appears, during which she was a dozen times on the point of confessing, but hesitated for fear of incriminating her lover. Then came the story of the return of the necklace, which, by the time it reached the still-room, had grown to the wildest of marvels. After that, no one seems to know exactly what happened, but possibly, between fear of her own part in the affair and rage at the treachery of her lover, the wretched creature lost what few senses she had and actually forced her way into the presence of the duchess, where she groveled on the floor, confessing and accusing and Lord knows what besides, and was carried out raving and foaming at the mouth."
"And so she confessed that she and her lover had stolen, or at any rate carried off the necklace," commented Prue thoughtfully.
"Then how do you account for its restoration by Robin Freemantle?" Beachcombe inquired, with his stealthy eyes upon her.
"Do you persist, even now, in connecting him with this affair?" she retorted, facing him defiantly. "For my part, I am now thoroughly convinced that it was a very vulgar matter and that I have been made a fool and a tool of by a pack of low wretches. Do not let any one who does not wish to offend me, ever mention my part in it again."
"On the contrary—" Barbara was beginning, when Peggie, from the window, uttered a cry of admiration.
"Is that your new chair at the door, Barbara?" she cried. "Sure, 'tis the finest in town!"
"Ah! I had for the moment forgotten—'twas but to display it I came here this afternoon—to show that and to scold Prue for a faithless friend."
They all followed her to the window, and in the street below stood a most superb sedan-chair, all carving and gilding, lined and curtained with crimson, and borne by four strapping footmen in liveries to match.
"'Tis truly magnificent," cried Lord Beachcombe. "All the world admires the taste of Lady Barbara Sweeting, but this time she has given us something to marvel at."
While he was speaking, Peggie plucked at Prue's sleeve and murmured in her ear, "In the library," with a glance and gesture that needed no interpretation. With an immense effort of self-control, Prue stopped long enough to compliment her friend on her new and gorgeous equipage, and then slipped away, with her heart throbbing in her throat, and ran down-stairs, to find Robin awaiting her, rather inefficiently disguised in a gold-laced velvet coat and a voluminous periwig, in which his marked resemblance to Lord Beachcombe struck Prue with absolute consternation.
"Robin, Robin!" she cried, when the door was closed, "how could you dream of coming here, of all places?"
"I have dreamed of nothing else," he replied. His eyes were glowing and his whole countenance transformed by a sublime transport of adoration. Few men are capable of this ecstasy and few women privileged to behold it; none, it may be conjectured, can resist its enchantment. Prue, trembling with a strange joy, yielded to the arms of her lover-husband, and there forgot everything else for a few blissful moments.
"Dearest, you must not stay here," she murmured, when he released her lips, "your worst enemy is in this house." And in a few rapid words she told him of Lord Beachcombe's search after the papers, his prediction of Robin's visit and his suggestion of using her as a bait to the trap he proposed setting for him.
"Go, now—at once, Robin, my husband, and send me word where to come to you; it is safer so. Oh! I will come! you need not fear—you see, I do not even ask if you want me to! Send for me, and be not too tardy about it—"
"Tardy, Heart of my heart," he murmured, with his lips to hers. "Every moment I spend away from you is an eternity in purgatory. If I must go, tell me that you love me, that I may have something to live upon until we meet again."
"Oh! I love you, Robin—indeed I love you—yet I take blame to myself for telling you so often, who have never yet said it to me. Some day you will, mayhap, remind me that I did all the wooing, and all the marrying, too! Nay, swear to me, Robin, that thou'lt forget that ever I asked thee to many me—" and she hid her face, all blushing with love and shame, upon his shoulder.
"Forget!" he exclaimed. "If ever I forget, it will be because my body is dust and my soul in torment! Yet I can not believe it. I fear to close my eyes in sleep, lest when I wake I shall find I have been dreaming—dreaming that these arms have held the dearest and sweetest woman in all the world and these most unworthy lips have been permitted to offer her worship. Oh! I scarcely dare to say, 'I love you.' I would I knew some other word that could express the adoration that fills my heart to bursting! I loved you the moment my eyes fell on your angel face—from the moment I kissed you. Oh! how dared I kiss you? Yet I was punished! You can not imagine the fire that kiss left in my veins—the unappeasable longing in my heart!" His lips were seeking hers again, but she thrust him away with tender vehemence.
"No, no," she cried, "don't stop to kiss me now, but go, while yet the way is open."
She had her hand upon the lock when it turned gently and the door opened a few inches. The eyes of Lord Beachcombe and Robin met over Prue's head and the flash of mutual animosity struck through her like an electric current. She glanced quickly from one to the other, and the secret of their kinship revealed itself so convincingly in the two faces that she did not even feel surprised. It seemed as if she must always have known that they were brothers.
The door closed again so swiftly that the whole incident was over before any one could have drawn a breath.
"It is too late!" whispered Prue, then threw herself into Robin's arms in a kind of desperation that was half rapture. "He will betray you, but they must take me too; I will not be separated from you."
"He will not come here for me," said Robin, cool and practical in the presence of danger. "It will be best for me to go at once, before he has time to call assistance. I can surely beat off half-a-dozen of his lackeys single-handed. If I give him time to set a posse of constables in wait for me, I may have more trouble with them. Farewell, Heart of gold; I will send a safe messenger to you soon. Oh! I must see you again very soon; I have so much to say to you—"
"Yet, wait," said Prue, detaining him. "Let me think; I would not risk your life unnecessarily. Stay here and I will return instantly."
She was back in a few minutes accompanied by a gorgeous vision of rich brocade and costly lace. These embellishments fitly set off a stately figure that had once been slenderer and a charming face that showed few of the ravages of time and, indeed, had more than replaced the graces of youth by the archness and gaiety time had but enhanced.
"Barbara, this is my friend Captain de Cliffe," said Prue. "We met in the North Country. Permit me to present him to you."
Lady Barbara's evident astonishment did not affect the ceremoniousness of her deep curtsey, to which Robin, not less surprised by Prue's manoeuver, responded with a gravely respectful salute.
"Methinks I have heard of your meeting with this gentleman—on Bleakmoor," said Barbara, with twinkling eyes. "I, myself, claim a distant kinship with the De Cliffes; what branch do you belong to, Captain?"
"I am an unworthy twig of the senior branch," replied Robin.
"Ah! that accounts for your strong resemblance to the late earl," said Barbara, seating herself near the window, and so compelling him to face the light, while she coolly scrutinized him. "And if the present earl were a handsome fellow, you would be like enough for brothers. As it is—"
"As it is, he hates me like a brother," said Robin negligently, "and in that the resemblance between us is not to be denied."
"Dear Barbara," cried Prue, "let me make a confession to you. Captain de Cliffe is also known as Robin Freemantle, the highwayman."
"And when I told you so t'other day, you pretended to be surprised," cried Barbara reproachfully. "Little did I ever expect that my Prue would so deceive me."
"'Twas not to deceive you, dear Barbara, but a roomful of curious gossips, all ready to fall upon poor little me and tear my secret to shreds. Scold me as much as you will, some other time, dearest Bab, but help us now!"
"Us?" cried Barbara, turning her shrewd eyes from one to the other with sudden enlightenment. "Aha!" she smiled knowingly, and Prue, blushing and faltering, found no word to explain away her unvoiced suspicion. "I am glad, at any rate," she went on rather dryly, "to find Sir Geoffrey's nose out of joint! But if you want help, why did you not ask Beachcombe, who seems all too willing to return to your feet, and who has already, if I am not mistaken, once rescued this gentleman from Newgate?"
"Barbara, he wishes nothing so much as to get him back there. Scarce an hour ago he proposed to me to decoy him here that he might seize him and rob him of valuable papers. No doubt he would kill him if he resisted, or throw him into prison. So now, dear Barbara, help me to devise some way of getting him away from here unobserved."
"That is not difficult," Barbara assured her. "My new chair is amply large for two. If Captain de Cliffe will give me his arm, we will walk out of this house together and he can escort me home."
"But, Bab, if that wretch is on the watch, he may attack you. Remember, he has seen Rob—Captain de Cliffe here, and if you had seen his face as I did, when he looked in at the door! Oh, you may be sure that even you would not be safe at his hands, if you stood between him and the object of his hatred!"
"I have a better plan," said Barbara, laughing mischievously, "and one that promises more diversion. You are tall, Captain," she looked him over with an approving eye, "a proper man, i' faith! Do you think you could be trusted to take the place of one of my chairmen? They are all six-foot men, chosen to match in size; I am very fastidious in such matters. Three are new to my service, but the fourth is a faithful lad, who can be trusted to hold his tongue. In his livery you can defy my Lord Beachcombe and his myrmidons and walk away under their noses."
This proposition was quite to Prue's taste and Robin, who was too anxious to get away without causing her any serious trouble, to care much in what guise he fared forth, gratefully consented. So James was despatched to call Lady Barbara's man Thomas, to whom she conveyed her commands in the fewest possible words, and the two ladies withdrew while the exchange of costume was effected, and the stolid Thomas, too well accustomed to his mistress' whims to raise the least question, resigned his crimson coat and gold-laced hat, his silk stockings and buckled shoes, and even his powdered bob-wig, to the new chairman.
By this time Prue's usual afternoon court was assembling in far greater numbers than the little house could easily accommodate, and the rustle of brocades and the ripple of gay voices filled the air. Outside the library Barbara hesitated. "I think I will not go back to your visitors, Prue, my tongue is apt to slip out of my control and I might say something compromising," she said. Then, seeing the door open into the empty dining-room, she went in, drawing Prue after her.
"Is it serious, child?" she demanded, with a hand on each shoulder and Prue's eyes vainly attempting to meet her searching gaze unflinchingly. "Is it possible that the heart that has resisted a hundred and one skilled assaults can have surrendered to the 'Stand and deliver' of a brigand? Come, tell me everything!—if you are in love with him—"
"Oh! no, no!" cried Prue, shrinking in horror from the extent of the revelation she might be drawn into if she began with such an admission. "Love! what nonsense—for a highwayman?" and she laughed, though with less than her usual abandon.
"Yet he is a charming fellow," said Barbara insinuatingly. "He might have caught your fancy—but, in fact," in a gay tone, "I'm glad he has not, for to own the truth, I am more than half disposed to carry off your highwayman and hold him prisoner for a day or two. 'Twill be safer for him and his adventures will surely keep me entertained for a while—and, who knows? I might amuse myself by making a conquest of this gentle savage!"
"Oh! Barbara, fie!" cried Prue, to whom the picture of Robin under the influence of another woman's fascinations was far from agreeable.
"It is condescension enough for you to save his life—"
"Condescension i' faith," laughed Barbara. "At least I can promise thatmycondescension shall end—where charity begins—at home! Eh, Prue? Well, I hear my new retainer in the hall, so fare thee well, dear Gossip," and with a kiss on either cheek, she rustled out and was respectfully assisted into her chair by Robin, who then took Thomas' vacant place at the rear pole.
The street was thronged with the equipages of Prue's visitors and, mingling with the crowd, Lord Beachcombe, closely followed by half-a-dozen lusty fellows, exchanged greetings here and there, without relaxing his vigilant watch upon the entrance. He scarcely vouchsafed a glance toward Lady Barbara, and as she swung past him in her gorgeous sedan-chair, with her four tall chairmen at full trot, she was so elated that she had half a mind to stop and speak to him. But wisdom prevailed with her, for once, and she contented herself with waving her jeweled fan in saucy greeting. He responded with a careless wave of the hand, and the next minute she was out of sight.