"Gentlemen," said Colonel Lascelles, "I am going to ask you to excuse
me. You know my old fashion--bed betimes. Rockley will take the chair,
and I hope you will enjoy yourselves. Good-night."
The grey-headed old Colonel quitted the mess-room, and the wine was left
for the card-tables, after the customary badinage and light conversation
that marked these meetings.
It had been a special night, and a few extra toasts had been proposed,
notably the healths of Sir Matthew Bray and his lady, it having leaked
out that the young baronet had at last led the fair Lady Drelincourt to
the altar, with all her charms.
Sir Matthew, prompted a great deal by Sir Harry Payne--who had but
lately rejoined the regiment, looking pale and ill--had made his
response, and he was a good deal congratulated, the last to speak to him
about his noble spouse being Sir Harry.
"Why, Matt," he exclaimed, "you look as if you were going to be hung.
Aren't you happy, man?"
"Happy!" said Sir Matthew, in deep, melodramatic tones. "You speak as
if you had not seen my wife."
Sir Harry stared him full in the face for a few moments, and then burst
into a hearty laugh, but winced directly, and drew in his breath
sharply, for the knife Louis Gravani had used struck pretty deep.
Card-playing went on for a time, the stakes being light, and then
succeeded a bout of drinking, when, with a contemptuous look at
Mellersh, Rockley, who had been drinking hard, and was strange and
excitable, called upon the party to honour a toast he was about to
propose.
"Claire Denville," he cried in a curious, reckless tone which made Sir
Harry stare.
Mellersh involuntarily glanced round, as if fearing that Richard Linnell
was present.
"Well, Colonel," said Rockley mockingly, "you don't drink. Surely you
are not trying to steal away my mistress."
"I? No," said Mellersh. "I did not know you had one."
"Hang it, sir!" cried Rockley, "I have just given her name as a toast.
Do you refuse to drink it?"
"Yes," said Mellersh coldly. "It seems to me bad taste to propose the
health of a lady whose father is under sentence of death, and whose
brother is dying not many yards away."
"Curse you, sir! who are you, to pretend to judge me?" cried Rockley
furiously. "Gentlemen, I protest against this sort of thing. What was
Lascelles thinking about to invite him, after what has taken place
between us?"
"Here, Rockley, be quiet," said Sir Matthew.
"I shall not," cried Rockley. "It is an insult to me. The Colonel
shall answer for it, and this Mellersh too."
"Nonsense!" cried Sir Harry. "Nonsense, man; you can't quarrel with a
guest. Never mind the toast. Sit down, and let's have a rubber.
Rockley's a bit excited, Mellersh. Don't take any notice of a few hot
words."
"Silence!" cried Rockley, whose voice was thick with the brandy he had
been imbibing day by day. "I want my toast drunk as it should be--
Claire Denville."
"Sit down, man," cried several of his brother-officers. "Here, let's
have a rubber. Sit down, Rockley, and cut. Come, Mellersh."
The latter shrugged his shoulders, and allowed himself to be drawn into
a game, cutting, and finding himself Rockley's adversary.
He was singularly fortunate, and in addition he played with the skill of
a master, the consequence being that he and Sir Harry Payne won.
Rockley rose from the table furious with suppressed anger, and, catching
up a pack of cards, he would have thrown them in Mellersh's face had not
Sir Harry struck at his arm, so that the cards flew all over the room.
Mellersh turned pale, but a couple of the most sober officers drew him
aside, Sir Matthew joining them directly.
"Don't take any notice, Mellersh," he said. "We're all sorry.
Rockley's as drunk as an owl. They're going to get him off to bed."
"It was a deliberate insult, gentlemen," said Mellersh quietly.
"Yes, but he doesn't know what he's about," said Sir Matthew. "We all
apologise."
Meanwhile the rest had summoned several of the regimental servants to
help in getting Rockley from the room; but he resisted till, seeing that
his case was hopeless, he suddenly exclaimed:
"Well, then, I'll go, if you'll let me propose one more toast."
"No, no!" was chorused.
"Then I shan't go," cried Rockley; "I'll stop and see it out."
"Let him give a toast," said Sir Harry, "and then he'll go. On your
honour, Rockley?"
"On my honour," he said: and he seemed to have grown suddenly sober.
"Fill, gentlemen. The toast is a lady--not Miss Denville, since it
offends Colonel Mellersh. I will give you the health of a lady who has
long been one of my favourites. Her health even that arch sharper will
not refuse to drink--my mistress, Cora Dean."
In rapid succession, and in the midst of a deep silence, the claret in
Colonel Mellersh's glass, and the glass itself, were dashed in Major
Rockley's face.
Rockley uttered a howl of rage that did not seem to be human; and he
would have sprung at Mellersh's throat had he not been restrained, while
the latter remained perfectly calm.
"There is no need for us to tear ourselves like brute beasts,
gentlemen," he said. "Major Rockley shall have the pleasure of shooting
the arch sharper--myself--where you will arrange--to-morrow morning; but
before I leave I beg to say that Miss Dean is a lady whom I hold in
great honour, and any insult to her is an insult to me."
"Loose me, Bray. Let me get at the cowardly trickster and cheat,"
yelled Rockley. "He shall not leave here without my mark upon him. Do
you hear? Loose me. He shall not go."
He struggled so furiously that he freed himself and was rushing at
Mellersh, when the door was thrown open and the grey-headed old Colonel
of the regiment entered.
"What is this?" said the Colonel sternly. "Major Rockley, are you mad?
I have business, sir, at once, with you."
Rockley stared from one to the other, and seemed to be sobered on the
instant.
"Business with me?" he said quickly. "Well, what is it? Payne, I leave
myself in your hands. Now, Colonel, what is it?"
The old Colonel drew aside and pointed to the door.
"Go to my quarters, sir," he said sternly. "But you should have some
one with you beside me. Sir Harry Payne, you are Major Rockley's
greatest intimate. Go with him."
Sir Harry was, after Mellersh, the most sober of the party, his wound
having necessitated his being abstemious, and he turned to the Colonel.
"He was very drunk," he said. "We'll get him to bed. I'll talk to
Mellersh when he is gone, and nothing shall come of it."
"You have misunderstood my meaning, Payne," said the Colonel sternly.
"I am not interfering about a card quarrel, sir, or a contemptible brawl
about some profligate woman. This is an affair dealing with the honour
of our regiment, as well as Major Rockley's liberty."
A spasm seemed to have seized Rockley, but he was calm the next moment,
and walked steadily to the Colonel's quarters, not a word being spoken
till the old officer threw open the door of his study, and they were in
the presence of Lord Carboro', Barclay, Morton Denville, and the Chief
Constable.
The Colonel was the only one who took a chair, the others bowing in
answer to the invitation to be seated, and remaining standing.
"Now, Mr Denville," said the Colonel, "Major Rockley is here: will you
have the goodness to repeat the words that you said to me? I must warn
you, though, once more, that this is a terrible charge against your
brother-officer, and against our regiment. I should advise you to be
careful, and unless you have undoubted proof of what you say, to
hesitate before you repeat the charge."
"Sir," said Morton, standing forward, "I am fighting the battle of my
poor father, who has been condemned to death for a crime of which he is
innocent."
"He has been tried by the laws of his country, Mr Denville, and
convicted."
"Because everything seemed so black against him, sir, through the
devilish machinations of that man."
"Be careful, sir," said the Colonel sternly. "Once more, be careful."
"I must speak out, sir," cried Morton firmly. "I repeat it--the
devilish machinations of this man--who has been the enemy and persecutor
of my family ever since he has been here."
"To the point, sir," said the Colonel, as Rockley stood up with a
contemptuous look in his dark eyes, and his tall, well-built figure
drawn to his full height.
"I will to the point, sir," said Morton. "I charge this man, the
insulter and defamer of my sister, with being the murderer of Lady
Teigne!"
"Hah!"
It was Major Rockley who uttered that ejaculation: and, springing
forward, he had in an instant seized Morton Denville by the throat and
borne him against the wall.
It was a momentary burst of fierce rage that was over directly; and,
dropping his hands and stepping back, the Major stood listening as
Morton went on.
"Taking advantage of the similarity of figure between himself and my
unfortunate brother, he took Frederick Denville's uniform one night for
a disguise, and to cast the suspicion upon an innocent man, should he be
seen, and then went to the house and killed that miserable old woman as
she slept."
"You hear this charge, Rockley?" said the Colonel.
"Yes, I hear," was the scornful reply.
"Go on, Mr Denville: I am bound to hear you," said the Colonel. "What
reason do you give for this impossible act?"
"Poverty, sir. Losses at the gaming tables. To gain possession of Lady
Teigne's jewels."
"Pish!" ejaculated Rockley, with his dark eyes flashing.
"Those jewels proved to be false," continued Morton, "and at the first
opportunity Major Rockley took them, in the dead of the night, and threw
them from the end of the pier into the sea."
"How do you know that?" said the Colonel.
"I was on the platform beneath, fishing, sir; and the fisherman I was
with dredged them up afterwards, and sold them to Mr Barclay."
"Yes," said that individual. "I have them still."
"Bah! Absurd!" cried Rockley, throwing back his head. "Colonel
Lascelles, are you going to believe this folly?"
"I am powerless, Major Rockley," said the Colonel in a quick, sharp
manner. "This charge is made in due form."
"And it is enough for me, sir," said the constable, stepping forward.
"Major Rockley, I arrest you on the charge of murder."
Rockley made a quick movement towards the door, but stopped short.
"Pish! I was surprised," he exclaimed, as the constable sprang in his
way. "What do you want to do?"
"Take you, sir."
"What? Disgraced like this?" cried Rockley furiously.
"Colonel, you will not allow the insult to the regiment. Give your word
that I will appear."
"I am helpless, sir," cried the old Colonel.
"Place me under arrest then, and let me appear in due time."
"I claim Major Rockley as my prisoner, sir," cried the constable
stoutly. "I have a warrant in proper form, and my men waiting. This is
not an ordinary case."
"Oh, very well," cried Rockley contemptuously; "I am ready. The charge
is as ridiculous as it is disgraceful. I presume that I may return to
my quarters, and tell my servant to pack up a few necessaries?"
"Of course; of course, Rockley," said the Colonel. "There can be no
objection to this."
He looked at the constable as he spoke, but that individual made no
reply. He placed himself by Rockley's side, and Sir Harry Payne went
out with them.
"I don't believe it, Rockley," cried the latter. "Here, I'll stand by
you to the end."
Rockley gave him a grim nod, glanced sharply round, and then strode out
to his own quarters only a few yards away.
"Well, gentlemen," said the Colonel, looking from one to the other;
"this is a most painful business for me. Mr Denville, as your father's
son, I cannot blame you very much, but if you had been ten years older
you would have acted differently."
"Colonel Lascelles," said Lord Carboro' coldly, "I do not see how Mr
Morton Denville could have acted differently."
"I will not argue the point with you, my lord," said the Colonel. "May
I ask you to--My God! What's that?"
It was a dull report, followed by the hurrying of feet, and the
excitement that would ensue in a barrack at the discharge of fire-arms.
Before the Colonel could reach the door, it was thrown open, and Sir
Harry Payne staggered in, white as ashes, and sank into a chair.
"Water!" he exclaimed. "I'm weak yet."
"What is it? Are you hurt?" cried the Colonel.
"No. Good heavens! how horrible," faltered the young man with a sob.
"Rockley!"
"Rockley?" cried Morton excitedly.
"He has blown out his brains!"
Volume Three, Chapter XXVII.