Part 44 (1/2)

”I never said any such thing,” cried I, vexed to the bone.

”It wasna necessary,” she said airily.

”Was it the ghost of a lady?” asked the Duke, who had been greatly amused by the dialogue.

”The question could only be asked,” said Charles, ”by one who has not the advantage of knowing Master Wheatman.”

He laid a hand on my arm and drew me nearer. ”My lord Duke,” he went on, ”I present to you the latest addition to my army, Mr. Oliver Wheatman of the Hanyards, the first-fruit, I am convinced, of a rich harvest from the gentry of his s.h.i.+re.”

It was no plan of mine to cry stinking fish to a Prince who had engentried me in such distinguished company. ”I'll have two blue stars and a jack in my coat-armour,” thought I, as I bowed to the Duke, who made himself singularly graceful.

There was now a general movement down the corridor, headed by the Prince with one of the unknown ladies on his arm. There was no other formal pairing though Lady Ogilvie deftly snapped up the Duke as he was coming for Margaret, and thus left her to me.

She let the last pair get a yard or two ahead of us, and then looked at me, her eyes full of laughter, curtsied, and said, ”Good morrow, Sir Kiss-the-ghost!”

”Good morrow, madam,” said I stoutly.

She put her arm in mine and, as we moved off, whispered mockingly, ”Sensible ghost!”

CHAPTER XXI

MASTER FREAKE KNOWS AT LAST

Dinner was a success from the Prince's point of view. The Duke was completely won over to the idea of our going on, and even the Lord Ogilvie at one time wavered before the Prince's onslaught. The Irishmen were strongly in favour of it, and Mr. Secretary, when thawed by wine, grew expansive over its advantages. I incline to think that the rascal had ratted already, and was anxious to get all he could out of the Government by leading the Prince into a trap. Trap it would have been, as Culloden plainly showed. Against English regular soldiers, resolutely led, the Highlanders would work no more miracles.

So for a s.p.a.ce the chatter and laughter went on. Charles was already in St. James's, and the ladies were already queening it in the new Court over the renegade beauties of the old one. Even Margaret caught some of the enthusiasm, so that I whispered to her, ”You beat our Kate at counting your unhatched chickens.”

Whereat she sobered all of a sudden, and whispered, ”Maybe you are right, Oliver!”

”I hope for your sake they are true prophets,” I said. ”I should dearly like to see you a marchioness before I go back to my farming.”

”That's one of the chickens I've not counted,” she said.

She looked at me very steadily, and then turned and plunged into the stream of conversation flowing around her.

Her father had steered clear of all awkward topics, taking for granted that we were going on. Charles got less cautious as he got surer, and moreover, as I could not but observe, he was mellowing somewhat under the brandy he was drinking. Princes commonly have no judgment of men, having never the need of noting their humours in order to mould them to their will. So now Charles bluntly attacked the Colonel again on the military aspect of the situation, which was merely b.u.t.ting against a stone wall.

”You must remember, Colonel,” he said, ”that my Highlanders have driven the English soldiery before them like sheep. They wiped out an army of them at Gladsmuir in less than fifteen minutes, and only lost thirty men killed in doing it.”

”Sir,” said the Colonel, ”give me one thousand English soldiers for a week and I'll pit them against any thousand Highlanders you like to bring against 'em.”

”Then it's a good job you're on my side,” said Charles.

”It is indeed, sir,” said the Colonel, very quietly, ”and under favour, sir, you will be well advised to have your troops exercised in the best ways of charging men who don't mean to run from them. There's no military science wanted to beat men who run away from you as soon as you attack. As I understand it, your Highlander fires his piece from a good distance, throws it away, and then rushes to the attack. If the enemy stands, he catches the bayonet of the man in front of him in his leather s.h.i.+eld, where it sticks, and so has him at mercy, and through you go like a knife through a cheese.”

”That's just how it's done, Colonel,” said Charles merrily.

”Well, sir, that's just how it wouldn't be done if I was in command against you.”

There was neither eating nor drinking going on now, except that the Prince poured out his third gla.s.s of brandy. Everybody was intent on the dialogue. Ogilvie, his hand clasping his wife's under the skirt of the napery, looked so intently at the Colonel that his face was like a figure in a Euclid book.