Part 17 (1/2)

Below, the four gentlemen were unhooking their swords from the wall. Mr.

Allonby now smiled with cherubic sweetness. ”I, too,” said he, ”think that all our differences might be arranged by ten minutes' private talk.” He came back, came up the stairs. ”You had left your sword,” he said to Mr.

Vanringham, ”but I fetched it, you see.”

Vanringham stared, his lips working oddly. ”I am no Siegfried,” said he, ”and ordinarily my bedfellow is not cold and--deplorable defect in such capacity!--somewhat unsympathetic steel.”

”But you forget,” the boy urged, ”that the room is public. And see, the hilt is set with jewels. Ah, Mr. Vanringham, let us beware how we lead others into temptation--” The door closed behind them.

VI

Said Mr. Babington-Herle, judicially, ”That's eshtrornary boy--most eshtrornary boy, and precisely unlike brother.”

”You must remember,” the Colonel pointed out, ”that since his marriage Gerald is a reformed man; he has quite given up punks and hazard, they say, for beer and cattle-raising.”

”Well, but it is a sad thing to have a spirited tall rogue turn pimp to b.a.l.l.s and rams, and Mrs. Lascelles will be inconsolable,” Sir Gresley considered.--”Hey, what's that? Did you not hear a noise up-stairs?”

”I do not think,” said the Colonel, ”that Mallison finds her so.--Yes, i'cod! I suppose that tipsy boy has turned over a table.”

”But you astound me,” Sir Gresley interrupted. ”The constant Mallison, of all persons!”

”Nevertheless, my dear, they a.s.sure me that he has made over to her the heart and lodgings until lately occupied by Mrs. Roydon--Oh, the devil!”

cried Colonel Denstroude, ”they are fighting above!”

”Good for Frank!” observed Mr. Babington-Herle. ”Hip-hip! Stick young rascal! Persevorate him, by Jove!”

But the other men had run hastily up the stairway and were battering at the door of Vanringham's chamber. ”Locked!” said the Colonel. ”Oh, the unutterable cur! Open, open, I tell you, Vanringham! By G.o.d, I'll have your blood for this if you have hurt the boy!”

”Break in the door!” said a voice from below. The Colonel paused in his objurgations, and found that the Duke of Ormskirk, followed by four attendants, had entered the hallway of the _Three Gudgeons_. ”Benyon,” said the Duke, more sharply, and wheeled upon his men, ”you have had my orders, I believe. Break in yonder door!”

This was done. They found Mr. Francis Vanringham upon the hearthrug a tousled heap of flesh and finery, insensible, with his mouth gaping, in a great puddle of blood. To the rear of the room was a boy in pink-and-silver, beside the writing-desk he had just got into with the co-operation of a poker. Hugged to his breast he held a brown despatch-box.

Ormskirk strode toward the boy and with an inhalation paused. The Duke stood tense for a moment. Then silently he knelt beside the prostrate actor and inspected Vanringham's injury. ”You have killed him,” the Duke said at last.

”I think so,” said the boy. ”But 'twas in fair fight.”

The Duke rose. ”Benyon,” he rapped out, ”do you and Minchin take this body to the room below. Let a surgeon be sent for. Bring word if he find any sign of life. Gentlemen, I must ask you to avoid the chamber. This is a state matter. I am responsible for yonder person.”

”Then your Grace is responsible for perfectly irresponsible young villain!”

said Mr. Babington-Herle. ”He's murderer Frank Vanringham, of poor dear Frank, like a brother to me, by Jove! Hang him high's Haman, your Grace, and then we'll have another bottle.”

”Colonel Denstroude,” said the Duke, ”I will ask you to a.s.sist your friend in retiring. The stairs are steep, and his conviviality, I fear, has by a pint or so exceeded his capacity. And in fine--I wish you a good-evening, gentlemen.”

VII

Ormskirk closed the door; then he turned, ”I lack words,” the Duke said.

”Oh, believe me, speech fails before this spectacle. To find you, here, at this hour! To find you--my betrothed wife's kinswoman and life-long a.s.sociate,--here, in this garb! A slain man at your feet, his blood yet reeking upon that stolen sword! His papers--pardon me!”

Ormskirk sprang forward and caught the despatch-box from her grasp as she strove to empty its contents into the fire. ”Pardon me,” he repeated; ”you have uns.e.xed yourself; do not add high treason to the list of your misdemeanors. Mr. Vanringham's papers, as I have previously had the honor to inform you, are the state's property.”