Six years drifted slowly by without bringing any news of Lord John, and then, two months ago, journeying from London to Wyncham, Richard's coach had been waylaid, and by a highwayman who proved to be none other than the scapegrace peer.
Richard's feelings may be imagined. Lord John had been singularly unimpressed by anything beyond the humour of the situation. That, however, had struck him most forcibly, and he had burst out into a fit of laughter that had brought a lump into Richard's throat, and a fresh ache into his heart.
Upon pressure John had given his brother the address of the inn, "in case of accidents," and told him to ask for "Sir Anthony Ferndale" if ever he should need him. Then with one hearty handshake, he had galloped off into the darkness. . . .
The lawyer stopped his restless pacing to listen. Down the passage was coming the tap-tap of high heels on the wooden floor, accompanied by a slight rustle as of stiff silks.
The little man tugged suddenly at his cravat. Supposing-supposing debonair Lord John was no longer debonair? Supposing-he dared not suppose anything. Nervously he drew a roll of parchment from his pocket and stood fingering it.
A firm hand was laid on the door-handle, turning it cleanly round. The door opened to admit a veritable apparition, and was closed again with a snap.
The lawyer found himself gazing at a slight, rather tall gentleman who swept him a profound bow, gracefully flourishing his smart three-cornered hat with one hand and delicately clasping cane and perfumed handkerchief with the other. He was dressed in the height of the Versailles fashion, with full-skirted coat of palest lilac laced with silver, small-clothes and stockings of white, and waistcoat of flowered satin. On his feet he wore shoes with high red heels and silver buckles, while a wig of the latest mode, marvellously powdered and curled and smacking greatly of Paris, adorned his shapely head. In the foaming lace of his cravat reposed a diamond pin, and on the slim hand, half covered by drooping laces, glowed and flashed a huge emerald.
The lawyer stared and stared again, and it was not until a pair of deep blue, rather wistful eyes met his in a quizzical glance, that he found his tongue. Then a look of astonishment came into his face, and he took a half step forward.
"Master Jack!" he gasped. "Master-Jack!"
The elegant gentleman came forward and held up a reproving hand. The patch at the corner of his mouth quivered, and the blue eyes danced.
"I perceive that you are not acquainted with me, Mr. Warburton," he said, amusement in his pleasant, slightly drawling voice. "Allow me to present myself: Sir Anthony Ferndale, à vous servir!"
A gleam of humour appeared in the lawyer's own eyes as he clasped the outstretched hand.
"I think you are perhaps not acquainted with yourself, my lord," he remarked drily.
Lord John laid his hat and cane on the small table, and looked faintly intrigued.
"What's your meaning, Mr. Warburton?"
"I am come, my lord, to inform you that the Earl, your father, died a month since."
The blue eyes widened, grew of a sudden hard, and narrowed again.
"Is that really so? Well, well! Apoplexy, I make no doubt?"
The lawyer's lips twitched uncontrollably.
"No, Master Jack; my lord died of heart failure."
"Say you so? Dear me! But will you not be seated, sir? In a moment my servant will have induced the chef to serve dinner. You will honour me, I trust?"
The lawyer murmured his thanks and sat down on the settle, watching the other with puzzled eyes.
The Earl drew up a chair for himself and stretched his foot to the fire.
"Six years, eh? I protest 'tis prodigious good to see your face again, Mr. Warburton. . . . And I'm the Earl? Earl and High Toby, by Gad!" He laughed softly.
"I have here the documents, my lord. . . ."
Carstares eyed the roll through his quizzing glass.
"I perceive them. Pray return them to your pocket, Mr. Warburton."
"But there are certain legal formalities, my lord-"
"Exactly. Pray do not let us mention them!"
"But, sir!"
Then the Earl smiled, and his smile was singularly sweet and winning.
"At least, not until after dinner, Warburton! Instead, you shall tell me how you found me?"
"Mr. Richard directed me where to come, sir."
"Ah, of course! I had forgot that I told him my-pied-à-terre when I waylaid him."
The lawyer nearly shuddered at this cheerful, barefaced mention of his lordship's disreputable profession.
"Er-indeed, sir. Mr. Richard is eager for you to return."
The handsome young face clouded over. My lord shook his head.
"Impossible, my dear Warburton. I am convinced Dick never voiced so foolish a suggestion. Come now, confess! 'tis your own fabrication?"
Warburton ignored the bantering tone and spoke very deliberately.
"At all events, my lord, I believe him anxious to make-amends."
Carstares shot an alert, suspicious glance at him.
"Ah!"
"Yes, sir. Amends."
My lord studied his emerald with half-closed eyelids.
"But why-amends, Warburton?" he asked.
"Is not that the word, sir?"
"I confess it strikes me as inapt. Doubtless I am dull of comprehension."
"You were not wont to be, my lord."
"No? But six years changes a man, Warburton. Pray, is Mr. Carstares well?"
"I believe so, sir," replied the lawyer, frowning at the deft change of subject.
"And Lady Lavinia?"
"Ay." Mr. Warburton looked searchingly across at him, seeing which, my lord's eyes danced afresh, brim full with mischief.
"I am very delighted to hear it. Pray present my compliments to Mr. Carstares and beg him to use Wyncham as he wills."
"Sir! Master Jack! I implore you!" burst from the lawyer, and he sprang up, moving excitedly away, his hands twitching, his face haggard.
My lord stiffened in his chair. He watched the other's jerky movements anxiously, but his voice when he spoke was even and cold.
"Well, sir?"
Mr. Warburton wheeled and came back to the fireplace, looking hungrily down at my lord's impassive countenance. With an effort he seemed to control himself.
"Master Jack, I had better tell you what you have already guessed. I know."
Up went one haughty eyebrow.
"You know what, Mr. Warburton?"
"That you are innocent!"
"Of what, Mr. Warburton?"
"Of cheating at cards, sir!"
My lord relaxed, and flicked a speck of dust from his great cuff.
"I regret the necessity of having to disillusion you, Mr. Warburton."
"My lord, do not fence with me, I beg! You can trust me, surely?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Then do not keep up this pretence with me; no, nor look so hard neither! I've watched you grow up right from the cradle, and Master Dick too, and I know you both through and through. I know you never cheated at Colonel Dare's nor anywhere else! I could have sworn it at the time-ay, when I saw Master Dick's face, I knew at once that he it was who had played foul, and you had but taken the blame!"
"No!"
"I know better! Can you, Master Jack, look me in the face and truthfully deny what I have said? Can you? Can you?"
My lord sat silent.
With a sigh, Warburton sank on to the settle once more. He was flushed, and his eyes shone, but he spoke calmly again.
"Of course you cannot. I have never known you lie. You need not fear I shall betray you. I kept silence all these years for my lord's sake, and I will not speak now until you give me leave."