Part 33 (1/2)

”Is London very gay just now, my lady?” asked the physician, understanding the face of affairs at a glance, and good-naturedly taking up his cue.

My lady, never at a loss for small talk, instantly plunged into an ocean of that diluted composition, and the minutes sped on.

At half-past seven, punctual to the second, came an imperative ring at the great door.

Margaret started up with a quivering face, murmured, ”Excuse me,” and glided out to conceal the terrible agitation of her features.

She took refuge in an ante-room and summoned the housekeeper.

”Show Colonel Brand in here instead of the reception-room,” she said, ”and stay with me while I speak to him.”

”To act sheep-dog?” asked Chetwode, venturing on a pleasantry.

”Yes,” shuddered the girl; ”one can never depend on a wolf.”

The colonel was accordingly ushered in, and the housekeeper, knitting in hand, took her seat at a distance, as if prepared for a long interview.

”How shall I get back my composure?” thought Margaret. ”I dare not face Lady Juliana until I am calm, else she would jump at this man's name.”

”I have come in answer to a kind invitation from Miss Walsingham,” said the man, approaching her with an insolent bravado of manner.

”Yes, I have work for you to-night.”

”For or against my cause, fair lady? I decline to stand in my own light.”

His evil eyes were fastened tauntingly upon her; his hand was toying with the breast of his coat.

”St. Udo Brand should fear nothing,” mocked Margaret.

His eyeb.a.l.l.s quivered and fell; the veins grew black upon his brow.

”One of your silly women had a narrow escape from being torn to pieces,”

he said, sourly, changing the subject.

”Yes,” retorted Margaret, ”I hear you keep a dangerous dog--the sooner you _stab him_ the safer we shall feel.”

His hand dropped from his bosom as if an adder had bitten him; her meaning was unmistakable.

”Tell the woman not to venture upon dangerous ground,” he growled from beneath his closed teeth. ”Argus is a fierce brute, and hates a spy.”

”Do not apologize for your dog's ferocity. I can well afford the loss of a cloak for the tableau I had the pleasure of witnessing.”

Her pallid, daring face pointed her meaning. Colonel Brand bowed to hide his livid face as if he had received a fine compliment; those Satanic white spots were slowly disappearing when he ventured to speak again.

”Since it was my lovely hostess, and not an inquisitive kitchen-wench, who was frightened,” sneered he, ”Argus shall be consigned to the bottom of the mere.”

”Argus knew his master Ulysses after they had been parted twenty years.

Would your dog recognize you by the name of St. Udo Brand, do you suppose?”