d me he turned up half an hour since. Tom asked his Grace to
join our party," his Lordship laughed. "Duke said no--he was to be here
only half an hour, and Tom did not push him. He told me as a joke, and
thinks Chartersea came to meet some petite."
"Any one with him?" I asked.
"Yes. Tall, dark man, one eye cast,--that's Lewis. They have come on
some dirty work, Richard. Watch little Marmaduke. He has been fidgety
as a cat all night."
"That's true," said I. Looking up, I caught Dorothy's eyes upon us, her
lips parted, uneasiness and apprehension plain upon her face. Comyn
dropped his voice still lower.
"I believe she suspects something," he said, rising. "Chartersea is
gone off toward the Wilderness, so Tom says. You must not let little
Marmaduke see him. If Manners gets up to go, I will tune up Black-eked
Susan, and do you follow on some pretext. If you are not back in a
reasonable time, I'll after you."
He had been gone scant three minutes before I heard his clear voice
singing, "in the Downs", and up I got, with a precipitation far from
politic, and stepped out of the box. Our company stared in surprise.
But Dorothy rose clear from her chair. The terror I saw stamped upon her
face haunts me yet, and I heard her call my name.
I waited for nothing. Gaining the Grand Walk, I saw Mr. Marmaduke's
insignificant figure dodging fearfully among the roughs, whose hour it
was. He traversed the Cross Walk, and twenty yards farther on dived into
an opening in the high hedge bounding the Wilderness. Before he had made
six paces I had him by the shoulder, and he let out a shriek of fright
like a woman's.
"It is I, Richard Carvel, Mr. Manners," I said shortly. I could not keep
out the contempt from my tone. "I beg a word with you."
In his condition then words were impossible. His teeth rattled again,
and he trembled like a hare caught alive. I kept my hold of him, and
employed the time until he should be more composed peering into the
darkness. For all I knew Chartersea might be within ear-shot. But I
could see nothing but black trunks of trees.
"What is it, Richard?"
"You are going to meet Chartersea," I said.
He must have seen the futility of a lie, or else was scared out of all
contrivance. "Yes," he said weakly.
"You have allowed it to become the talk of London that this filthy
nobleman is blackmailing you for your daughter," I went on, without
wasting words. "Tell me, is it, or is it not, true?"
As
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