|Mrs. Calverley found Chetwynd in the library with the two young men,
who bowed very respectfully as she made her appearance.
“What has happened?” she said to Chetwynd. “I thought you were staying
with Sir Bridgnorth?”
“I have only just come from Charlton,” he replied. “We have got a
strange business on hand, as you will admit when you learn what it is.
You have heard me speak of an infamous scoundrel named Romney. Well, it
seems that this daring libertine, who for some time has persecuted
Rose Hartley with his addresses, has resolved to carry her off from
Brackley.”
“Such audacity seems scarcely credible!” exclaimed Mrs. Calverley.
“It is, nevertheless, certain he is about to make the attempt this very
night,” said Netterville. “My friend Tom Tankard discovered his design
in a very singular manner, as he will tell you.”
“Yes, ma'am,” said Tom, with one of his best bows; “I went to get my
hair cut yesterday by a _coiffoor_ named Sigebert Smart, and while I was
undergoing the operation, Sigebert, who is rather too familiar, says to
me, 'Do you remember Rose Hartley, Mr. Tom' 'To be sure I do!' says
I. 'And a very pretty girl she is. She has gone to Brackley Hall, in
Cheshire, with Miss Barfleur and Miss Calverley.' 'But she won't remain
there long,' remarked Sigebert. 'Why not?' says I. 'Don't she like the
place?' 'Can't tell about that,' observed Sigebert. 'But there's a
gentleman going to look after her.' 'Indeed!' says I, pricking up my
ears--for I thought of my friend, Harry Netterville. 'It won't be any
use if he does.' 'You're very much mistaken there, Mr. Tom,' says he,
with a knowing look. 'I'm going with him!' 'You!' says I, in
astonishment. 'Yes; and if we can't manage it, the deuce is in it!'
'Manage what?' says I. 'You don't mean to carry her off?' 'That will
depend,' said he. 'There may be an _enlevement._ But I dare say she'll
come willingly enough.”
“On hearing this, I said no more to alarm him, for I knew who he meant,
and wished to catch the rascal. But I presently inquired, 'When do you
set out on this expedition?' 'To-morrow,' he replied. 'We shall get down
to Brackley Hall in the dusk of the evening. But don't go and talk about
it--especially to Harry Netterville--or you'll spoil all.'
“I promised to keep silence, but had no sooner left the rascally
hairdresser's shop than I took a cab, and drove to Gray's Inn to see
Harry, and tell him what I had found out. At first, he didn't believe
it.”
“I couldn't,” said Netterville. “The attempt seemed too wild; but Tom
convinced me it would be made. We then arranged our plans, and having
ascertained from Lady Thicknesse's butler, Higgins, that Mr. Chetwynd
Calverley had gone to spend a few days with Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, we
set off for Stafford early this morning, and saw Mr. Calverley, hoping
he might feel disposed to accompany us, and he did not hesitate a
moment.”
“No,” cried Chetwynd; “and I confess the intelligence you brought gave
me the utmost satisfaction, for I felt that at last Romney had delivered
himself into my hands. I judged it best to come on here, instead of
proceeding direct to Brackley,” he added to Mrs. Calverley, “as I feared
to alarm the rascals. But I shall send over a note to warn Rose, and
give her some instructions. Romney must not escape me!”
“I should be very sorry for that,” said Mrs.
Calverley. “But it is rather unlucky that Mildred should have been taken
ill this morning, and Rose is obliged to be in attendance upon her.”
“She is not seriously ill, I trust?” inquired Chetwynd, anxiously.
“No; and Emmeline can stay with her, while Rose leaves her for a time,”
said Mrs. Calverley.
“Nothing more will be needful,” said Chetwynd.
Then turning to Netterville, and pointing to the writing materials on
the table, he added, “Sit down and prepare a note to Rose, and I will
send it off a once by a groom to Brackley, together with another letter
from myself.”
So saying, he quitted the library with Mrs. Calverley, but presently
returned for Netterville's letter which he gave to the groom, enjoining
him to set off at once.
Meanwhile, Norris came to the library, and invited the two young men to
come to the butler's pantry where a substantial repast was set out for
then together with a bottle of claret.
“I say, Harry,” remarked Tom, as he discussed the pigeon-pie, and
quaffed the claret, “I shouldn' mind an expedition like this every day,
if I could insure such prog. And what a beautiful creature that Mrs.
Calverley is! I declare I'm quite in love with her myself. How do you
feel?”
“Very comfortable,” replied Harry. “I can think of nothing but Rose.”
“Oh, Rose! lub'ly Rose!” chanted Tom. “Take another glass of claret.
That'll cure you!”