ilding created a diversion by leading Ruth to a chair that stood at the
far end of the table, and drawing it forward for her. "Ah, yes," said
Feversham airily, "let Madame sit."

"You are very good, sir," said Ruth, her voice brave and calm.

"But somewhat lacking in spontaneity," Wilding criticized, which set
Wentworth staring and the Frenchman scowling.

"Shall I call the guard, my lord?" asked Wentworth crisply.

"I t'ink yes," said Feversham, and the captain gained the door, and
spoke a word to one of the soldiers without.

"But, my lord," exclaimed Blake in a tone of protest, "I vow you are too
ready to take this fellow's word."

"He 'as spoke so few," said Feversham.

"Do you know who he is?"

"You 'af 'eard 'im say--t'e lady's 'usband."

"Aye--but his name," cried Blake, quivering with anger. "Do you know
that it is Wilding?"

The name certainly made an impression that might have flattered the man
to whom it belonged. Feversham's whole manner changed; the trivial air
of persiflage that he had adopted hitherto was gone on the instant, and
his brow grew dark.

"T'at true?" he asked sharply. "Are you Mistaire Wildin'--Mistaire
Antoine Wildin'?"

"Your lordship's most devoted servant," said Wilding suavely, and made a
leg.

Wentworth in the background paused in the act of reclosing the door to
stare at this gentleman whose name Albemarle had rendered so excellently
well known.

"And you to dare come 'ere?" thundered Feversham, thoroughly roused
by the other's airy indifference. "You to dare come 'ere--into my ver'
presence?"

Mr. Wilding smiled conciliatingly. "I came for my wife, my lord," he
reminded him. "It grieves me to intrude upon your lordship at so late an
hour, and indeed it was far from my intent. I had hoped to overtake Sir
Rowland before he reached you."

"Nom de Dieu!" swore Feversham. "Ho! A so great effrontery!" He swung
round upon Blake again. "Sare Rowlan'," he bade him angrily, "be so kind
to tell me what 'appen in Breechwater--everyt'ing!"

Blake, his face purple, seemed to struggle for breath and words. Mr.
Wilding answered for him.

"Sir Rowland is so choleric, my lord," he said in his pleasant, level
voice, "that perhaps the tale would come more intelligibly from
me. Believe me that he has served you to the best of his ability.
Unfortunately for the success of your choice plan of murder, I had news
of it at the eleventh hour, and with a party of musketeers I was able
to