Part 59 (1/2)
His pa.s.sport, showing that he was an English peer, obtained for him all the deference and respect foreign officials are accustomed to render to that t.i.tle, and the Prefect announced that if it suited his convenience, he would wait on his Lords.h.i.+p at his hotel to receive his deposition.
”I have nothing to depose, no information to give,” was the dry and not over-courteous response; but as the visit, it was intimated, was indispensable, he named his hour to admit him.
The bland and polite tone of the Prefect was met by a manner of cold but well-bred ease which seemed to imply that the traveller only regarded the incident in the light of an unpleasant interruption to his journey, but in which he took no other interest. Even the hints thrown out that he ought to consider himself aggrieved and his dignity insulted, produced no effect upon him.
”It was my intention to have halted a few days at Ma.s.sa, and I could have obtained another courier in the interval,” was the cool commentary he bestowed on the incident.
”But your Lords.h.i.+p would surely desire investigation. A man is missing; a great crime may have been committed--”
”Excuse my interrupting; but as I am not, nor can be supposed to be, the criminal,--nor do I feel myself the victim,--while I have not a claim to the character of witness, you would only hara.s.s me with interrogatories I could not answer, and excite me to take interest, or at least bestow attention, on what cannot concern me.”
”Yet there are circ.u.mstances in this case which give it the character of a preconcerted plan,” said the Prefect, thoughtfully.
”Perhaps so,” said the other, in a tone of utter indifference.
”Certainly, the companion of the man who is missing, and of whom no clew can be discovered, is reported to have uttered your name repeatedly in his ravings.”
”My name,--how so?” cried the stranger, hurriedly.
”Yes, my Lord, the name of your pa.s.sport,--Lord Glen-core. Two of those I have placed to watch beside his bed have repeated the same story, and told how he has never ceased to mutter the name to himself in his wanderings.”
”Is this a mere fancy?” said the stranger, over whose sickly features a flush now mantled. ”Can I see him?”
”Of course. He is in the hospital, and too ill to be removed; but if you will visit him there, I will accompany you.”
It was only when a call was made upon Lord Glencore for some bodily exertion that his extreme debility became apparent. Seated at ease in a chair, his manner seemed merely that of natural coolness and apathy; he spoke as one who would not suffer his nature to be ruffled by any avoidable annoyance; but now, as he arose from his seat, and endeavored to walk, one side betrayed unmistakable signs of palsy, and his general frame exhibited the last stage of weakness.
”You see, sir, that the exertion costs its price,” said he, with a sad, sickly smile. ”I am the wreck of what once was a man noted for his strength.”
The other muttered some words of comfort and compa.s.sion, and they descended the stairs together.
”I do not know this man,” said Lord Glencore, as he gazed on the flushed and fevered face of the sick man, whose ill-trimmed and s.h.a.ggy beard gave additional wild-ness to his look; ”I have never, to my knowledge, seen him before.”
The accents of the speaker appeared to have suddenly struck some chord in the sufferer's intelligence, for he struggled for an instant, and then, raising himself on his elbow, stared fixedly at him. ”Not know me?” cried he, in English; ”'t is because sorrow and sickness has changed me, then.”
”Who are you? Tell me your name?” said Glencore, eagerly.
”I'm Billy Traynor, my Lord, the one you remember, the doctor--”
”And my boy!” screamed Glencore, wildly.
The sick man threw up both his arms in the air, and fell backward with a cry of despair; while Glencore, tottering for an instant, sank with a low groan, and fell senseless on the ground.
CHAPTER XLVII. A FRAGMENT OF A LETTER
Long before Lord Glencore had begun to rally from an attack which had revived all the symptoms of his former illness, Billy Traynor had perfectly recovered, and was a.s.siduously occupied in attending him.
Almost the first tidings which Glencore could comprehend a.s.sured him that the boy was safe, and living at Ma.s.sa under the protection of the Chevalier Stubber, and waiting eagerly for Billy to join him. A brief extract from one of the youth's letters to his warm-hearted follower will suffice to show how he himself regarded the incident which befell, and the fortune that lay before him.
It was a long swim, of a dark night too, Master Billy; and whenever the arm of a tree would jostle me, as it floated past, I felt as though that ”blessed” courier was again upon me, and turned to give fight at once.
If it were not that the river took a sudden bend as it nears the sea, I must infallibly have been carried out; but I found myself quite suddenly in slack water, and very soon after it shallowed so much that I could walk ash.o.r.e. The thought of what became of my adversary weighed more heavily on me when I touched land; indeed, while my own chances of escape were few, I took his fate easily enough. With all its dangers, it was a glorious time, as, hurrying downward in the torrent, through the dark night, the thunder growling overhead, the breakers battering away on the bar, I was the only living thing there to confront that peril!