Part 83 (2/2)

”I do not trust the villain, but he may come in,” I said, at length.

She gave me the one lingering, anxious look, and opened the door.

Never had I beheld such a change in mortal man as there was in Mr.

Allen, my old tutor, and rector of St. Anne's. And 'twas a baffling, intangible change. 'Twas as if the mask bad been torn from his face, for he was now just a plain adventurer that need not have imposed upon a soul. The coa.r.s.e wine and coa.r.s.e food of the lower coffee-houses of London had replaced the rich and abundant fare of Maryland. The next day was become one of the terrors of his life. His clothes were of poor stuff, but aimed at the fas.h.i.+on. And yet--and yet, as I looked upon him, a something was in his face to puzzle me entirely. I had seen many stamps of men, but this thing I could not recognize.

He stepped forward with all of his old confidence, and did not regard a farthing my cold stare.

”'Tis like gone days to see you again, Richard,” he cried. ”And I perceive you have as ever fallen into the best of hands.”

”I am Mr. Carvel to my enemies, if they must speak to me at all,” I said.

”But, my dear fellow, I am not your enemy, or I should not be here this day. And presently I shall prove that same.” He took snuff. ”But first I must congratulate you on coming alive out of that great battle off Flamborough. You look as though you had been very near to death, my lad.

A deal nearer than I should care to get.”

What to say to the man! What to do save to knock him down, and I could not do that.

”There can be no pa.s.sing the time of day between you and me, Mr. Allen,”

I answered hotly. ”You, whose machinations have come as near to ruining me as a man's can.”

”And that was your own fault, my dear sir,” said he, as he brushed himself. ”You never showed me a whit of consideration, which is very dear to men in my position.”

My head swam. Then I saw Dolly by the door regarding me curiously, with something of a smile upon her lips, but anxiety still in her eyes. With a ”by your leave, ma'am,” to her, Mr. Allen took the chair abreast me.

”You have but to call me when you wish, Richard,” said she.

”Nay, Dorothy, Mr. Allen can have nothing to say to me that you may not hear,” I said instantly. ”And you will do me a favour to remain.”

She sat down without a word, where I could look at her. Mr. Allen raised his eyebrows at the revelation in our talk, but by the grace of G.o.d he kept his mouth shut.

”And now, Mr. Allen,” I said, ”to what do I owe the pain of this visit?”

”The pain!” he exclaimed, and threw back his head and gave way to a fit of laughter. ”By the ma.s.s! your politeness drowns me. But I like you, Richard, as I have said more than once. I believe your brutal straight-dealing has more to do with my predilection than aught else.

For I have seen a deal of rogues in my day.”

”And they have seen a deal of you, Mr. Allen.”

”So they have,” he cried, and laughed the more. ”Egad, Miss Dorothy, you have saved all of him, I think.” Then he swung round upon me, very careless. ”Has your Uncle Grafton called to express his sympathies, Richard?” he asked.

That name brought a cry out of my head, Dolly seizing the arm of her chair.

”Grafton Carvel in London?” I exclaimed.

”Ay, in very pretty lodgings in Jermyn Street, for he has put by enough, I'll warrant you, despite the loss of his lands. Your aunt is with him, and his dutiful son, Philip, now broken of his rank in the English army.

They arrived, before yesterday, from New York.”

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