Part 19 (1/2)
Lady Coleville was inside. I placed Elsin Grey, and, at a motion from Sir Peter, closed the door.
”Home,” he said quietly. The footman leaped to the box, the whip snapped, and away rolled the coach, leaving Sir Peter and myself standing there in Pearl Street.
”Your servant Dennis sought me out,” he said, ”with word that Walter Butler had been busy sounding the panels in your room.”
Speech froze on my lips.
”Further,” continued Sir Peter calmly, ”Lady Coleville has shared with me the confidence of Elsin Grey concerning her troth, clandestinely plighted to this gentleman whom you have told me is a married man.”
I could not utter a sound. Moment after moment pa.s.sed in silence. The half-hour struck, then three-quarters. At last from the watch-tower on the Fort the hour sounded.
There was a rattle of wheels behind us; a coach clattered out of Beaver Street, swung around the railing of the Bowling Green, and drew up along the foot-path beside us; and Dr. Carmody leaped out, shaking hands with us both.
”I found him at Fraunce's Tavern, Sir Peter, bag and baggage. He appeared to be greatly taken aback when I delivered your cartel, protesting that something was wrong, that there could be no quarrel between you and him; but when I hinted at his villainy, he went white as ashes and stood there swaying like a stunned man. Gad! that hint about his wife took every ounce of blood from his face, Sir Peter.”
”Has he a friend to care for him?” asked Sir Peter coldly.
”Jessop of the Sappers volunteered. I found him in the tap-room. They should be on their way by this time, Sir Peter.”
”That will do. Carus will act for me,” said Sir Peter in a dull voice.
He entered the coach; I followed, and Dr. Carmody followed me and closed the door. A heavy leather case lay beside me on the seat. I rested my throbbing head on both hands, sitting swaying there in silence as the coach dashed through Bowling Green again and sped clattering on its way up-town.
CHAPTER VI
A NIGHT AND A MORNING
As our coach pa.s.sed Crown Street I could no longer doubt whither we were bound. The shock of certainty aroused me from the stunned lethargy which had chained me to silence. At the same moment Sir Peter thrust his head from the window and called to his coachman:
”Drive home first!” And to me, resuming his seat: ”We had nigh forgotten the case of pistols, Carus.”
The horses swung west into Maiden Lane, then south through Na.s.sau Street, across Crown, Little Queen, and King Streets, swerving to the right around the City Hall, then sharp west again, stopping at our own gate with a clatter and clash of harness.
Sir Peter leaped out lightly, and I followed, leaving Dr. Carmody, with his surgical case, to await our return.
Under the door-lanthorn Sir Peter turned, and in a low voice asked me if I could remember where the pistol-case was laid.
My mind was now clear and alert, my wits already busily at work. To prevent Sir Peter's facing Walter Butler; to avoid Cunningham's gallows; could the first be accomplished without failure in the second?
Arrest might await me at any instant now, here in our own house, there at the Coq d'Or, or even on the very field of honor itself.
”Where did you leave the pistol-case that day you practised in the garden?” I asked coolly.
”'Twas you took it, Carus,” he said. ”Were you not showing the pistols to Elsin Grey?”
I dropped my head, pretending to think. He waited a moment, then drew out his latch-key and opened the door very softly. A single sconce-candle flared in the hall; he lifted it from the gilded socket and pa.s.sed into the state drawing-room, holding the light above his head, and searching over table and cabinet for the inlaid case.
Standing there in the hall I looked up the dark and shadowy stairway.
There was no light, no sound. In the drawing-room I heard Sir Peter moving about, opening locked cupboards, lacquered drawers, and crystal doors, the s.h.i.+fting light of his candle playing over wall and ceiling.