“But—but why, in heaven’s name?”
“I have no idea,” said his Grace placidly. “Come here, rat.”
The boy came to him timidly, and allowed Justin to turn his face to the light.
“Quite a pretty child,” the Duke remarked. “I shall make him my page. So entertaining to possess a page, body and soul.”
Davenant rose, and took one of the boy’s hands in his.
“I suppose you will explain, some time or another,” he said. “For the present, why not feed the poor child?”
“You are always so efficient,” sighed the Duke. He turned to the table, on which a cold supper was laid, awaiting him. “Wonderful. You might almost have known that I should bring home a guest. You may eat, little rat.”
The boy looked up at him shyly.
“Please, milor’, I can wait. I—I would not eat your supper. I would rather wait, if—if you please.”
“I do not please, my child. Go and eat.” He sat down as he spoke, twirling his quizzing glass. After a moment’s hesitation the boy went to the table and waited for Hugh to carve him a leg of chicken. Having supplied his wants, Hugh came back to the fire.
“Are you mad, Justin?” he asked, faintly smiling.
“I believe not.”
“Then why have you done this? What do you, of all men, want with a child of his age?”
“I thought it might be an amusement. As you doubtless know, I am suffering from ennui. Louise wearies me. This—” he waved one white hand towards the famished boy—“is a heaven-sent diversion.”
Davenant frowned.
“You surely do not intend to adopt the child?”
“He—er—adopted me.”
“You are going to make him as your son?” persisted Hugh incredulously.
The Duke’s eyebrows rose, rather superciliously.
“My dear Hugh! A child from the gutter? He shall be my page.”
“And what interest will that afford you?”
Justin smiled, and his glance travelled to the boy.
“I wonder?” he said softly.
“You have some special reason?”
“As you so sapiently remark, my dear Hugh, I have some special reason.”
Davenant shrugged his shoulders, and allowed the subject to drop. He sat watching the child at the table, who presently finished his repast, and came to the Duke’s side.
“If you please, sir, I have finished.”
Avon put up his eyeglass.
“Have you?” he said.
The boy knelt suddenly and, to Davenant’s surprise, kissed the Duke’s hand.
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Avon disengaged himself, but the boy knelt still, looking up into the handsome face with humble eyes. The Duke took a pinch of snuff.
“My esteemed child, there sits the man you had best thank.” He waved his hand towards Davenant. “I should never have thought of feeding you.”
“I—I thanked you for saving me from Jean, milor’,” the boy answered.
“You are reserved for a worse fate,” said the Duke sardonically. “You now belong to me—body and soul.”
“Yes, sir. If you please,” murmured the boy, and sent him a swift glance of admiration from beneath his long lashes.
The thin lips curled a little.
“The prospect is no doubt pleasing?”
“Yes, sir. I—I would like to serve you.”
“But then, you do not know me very well,” said Justin, with a slight chuckle. “I am an inhuman taskmaster, eh, Hugh?”
“You are not the man to care for a child of his age,” said Hugh quietly.
“True, very true. Shall I give him to you?”
A trembling hand touched his great cuff.
“Please, sir——”
Justin looked across at his friend.
“I do not think I shall, Hugh. It is so entertaining, and so—er—novel, to be a gilded saint in the eyes of—er—unfledged innocence. I shall keep the boy for just so long as he continues to amuse me. What is your name, my child?”
“Léon, sir.”
“How delightfully brief!” Always a faint undercurrent of sarcasm ran beneath the surface of the Duke’s smooth voice. “Léon. No more, no less. The question is—Hugh will of course have the answer ready—what next to do with Léon?”
“Put him to bed,” said Davenant.
“Naturally—And do you think—a bath?”
“By all means.”
“Ah yes!” sighed the Duke, and struck a handbell at his side.
A lackey came in answer to the summons, bowing deeply.
“Your Grace desires?”
“Send me Walker,” said Justin.
The lackey effaced himself, and presently a neat individual came in, grey-haired and prim.
“Walker! I had something to say to you. Yes, I remember. Walker, do you observe this child?”
Walker glanced at the kneeling boy.
“Ay, your Grace.”
“He does. Marvellous,” murmured the Duke. “His name, Walker, is Léon. Strive to bear it in mind.”
“Certainly, your Grace.”
“He requires several things, but first a bath.”
“Ay, your Grace.”
“Secondly, a bed.”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Thirdly, a nightgown.”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Fourthly, and lastly, a suit of clothes. Black.”
“Black, your Grace.”
“Severe and funereal black, as shall befit my page. You will procure them. No doubt you will prove yourself equal to this occasion. Take the child away, and show him the bath, the bed, and the nightgown. And then leave him alone.”
“Very good, your Grace.”
“And you, Léon, rise. Go with the estimable Walker. I shall see you to-morrow.”
Léon came to his feet, and bowed.
“Yes, Monseigneur. Thank you.”
“Pray, do not thank me again,” yawned the Duke. “It fatigues me.” He watched Léon go out, and turned to survey Davenant.
Hugh looked full into his eyes.
“What does this mean, Alastair?”
The Duke crossed his legs, and swung one foot.
“I wonder?” he said pleasantly. “I thought that you would be able to tell me. You are always so omniscient, my dear.”
“Some scheme you have in mind, I know,” Hugh said positively. “I have known you long enough to be sure of that. What do you want with that child?”
“You are sometimes most importunate,” complained Justin. “Never more so than when you become virtuously severe. Pray spare me a homily.”
“I have no intention of lecturing you. All I would say is that it is impossible for you to take that child as your page.”
“Dear me!” said Justin, and gazed pensively into the fire.
“For one thing, he is of gentle birth. One can tell that from his speech, and his delicate hands and face. For another—his innocence shines out of his eyes.”
“How very distressing!”
“It would be very distressing if that innocence left him—because of you,” Hugh said, a hint of grimness in his rather dreamy voice.
“Always so polite,” murmured the Duke.
“If you wish to be kind to him——”
“My dear Hugh! I thought you said you knew me?”
Davenant smiled at that.
“Well, Justin, as a favour to me, will you give me Léon, and seek a page elsewhere?”
“I am always sorry to disappoint you, Hugh. I desire to act up to your expectations on all possible occasions. So I shall keep Léon. Innocence shall walk behind Evil—you see, I forestall you—clad in sober black.”
“Why do you want him? At least tell me that?”
“He has Titian hair,” said Justin blandly. “Titian hair has ever been one of—my—ruling—passions.” The hazel eyes glinted for a moment, and were swiftly veiled. “I am sure you will sympathize with me.”