FLIGHT!
It was a long time before Lord Ravenspur replied. He paced up and down
the studio immersed in his own gloomy thoughts. Then gradually his
face cleared, his eyes flashed with resolution.
"I begin to see my way," he said. "It is not for my sake, but that of
the child. I hope you will believe me when I say I am no coward. If it
were six months hence I could laugh at the danger, because, whatever
happened to me, I should have succeeded in my purpose. In six months'
time Vera will be of age. At the expiration of that period she can
become a naturalized British subject. Then the Crown will look after
her interests, and see that the estates which she will some day
inherit are properly administered. Six months hence Vera will be her
own mistress. She has already been informed what her mother is like,
and she will know how to behave towards that woman. It will be a
satisfaction for me to know that we have baffled those bloodthirsty
wretches after all."
"And in the meantime?" Walter asked. "Don't you think we should have
Silva arrested, so that at any rate we should be safe as far as he is
concerned? We could easily find him."
"I don't think so," Ravenspur said, thoughtfully. "I know my enemy by
sight, which you will admit is a very great advantage. If another
assassin comes along, he will have a tremendous pull over me. Besides,
you made a suggestion just now which gave me a brilliant idea. You
said that it was a pity we hadn't got the dogs here. We will have a
couple of bloodhounds up the first thing in the morning, and one of
them shall sleep in my bedroom, the other in the studio. The hounds
are not in the least dangerous to those who know them. But I pity the
midnight intruder who comes along and gets introduced to one of them.
That will be one way of protecting myself for a time, and it will give
the scoundrels something to do to devise fresh means of putting an end
to me. I have thought it all out, and the best thing we can do is to
disappear."
"Disappear!" Walter cried. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I say. The thing can be done tomorrow night.
There is nothing easier."
"But tomorrow night we are going to Lady Ringmar's great reception,"
Walter urged. "I understand that it is to be one of the biggest things
of the season, and I know that Vera is looking forward to it with the
greatest possible pleasure."
"Well, we can go," Ravenspur said, a trifle impatiently. "Now my
scheme is this: we go to Lady Ringmar's, and stay there till about two
o'clock in the morning. We take certain wraps with us, and we leave
the house, not in one of the carriages, but in a hired fly which will
subsequently take us to Waterloo Station. By special train we will go
down to Weymouth, and at that point hire a yacht to convey us to
Jersey. There we shall be able to stay a few days, and settle our
plans. The servants can easily get all we want together early tomorrow
morning, and send the bags down to Weymouth as luggage in advance. The
next day the papers will contain the information that Lord Ravenspur
has suddenly been attacked with a mysterious illness, and that he has
been ordered to leave London at once. As perfect rest and quietness
are prescribed, he is keeping his address a secret, and has given
strict orders that no communication of any kind is to be forwarded.
Even the servants in Park Lane will profess not to know where we have
gone, which will be nothing less than the truth. How does the idea
strike you?"
Walter murmured something in reply. As a matter of fact, he was not in
the least in love with the scheme, though Lord Ravenspur appeared to
be so eager and happy about it, that he had not the heart to throw
cold water on the programme. From his more youthful point of view, the
idea of flight seemed cowardly. He would have placed the matter in the
hands of the police. He would not have shrunk from the utmost
publicity. But still, there was Vera to be considered. The girl's
future was of the first importance.
"Very well," he said, "I will give up my time tomorrow to getting
ready. I suppose now that you won't want me to telegraph to the
Hampshire place for the dogs?"
"Oh, I think you had better," Ravenspur said. "One never knows what
may turn up. And there is always the chance of the secret being
discovered. And now let us go to bed, and try to get some sleep. I
haven't had a night's rest for a week. I am longing to find myself on
board a yacht again. I shall be safe there at all events. Good-night,
my boy."
It was after lunch the following day that Vera came into the
billiard-room in search of Walter. The latter had practically finished
his preparations. He had done everything that his uncle had entrusted
to him, and there was nothing now but to wait the turn of events. In a
well-regulated establishment like that of Lord Ravenspur's, everything
had proceeded smoothly enough. By luncheon time the whole of the boxes
and portmanteaux had been packed, and the luggage despatched. Still,
there was a perplexed look in Vera's eyes as she came into the
billiard-room.
"I have been looking for you everywhere, Walter," she said. "I want to
know what is the meaning of all this mystery. I have seen enough
baggage leave the house to supply us with all we want for a season in
Scotland. When I asked my maid what she was doing, she simply said
that she had been instructed by the housekeeper to get my things
ready. Of course, I raised no objection, but I should certainly like
to know what it all means."
Walter looked a trifle embarrassed. He had quite forgotten that Vera
might show a natural curiosity.
"We are going away for a little time," he explained. "The fact of the
matter is, your guardian has not been at all well lately. But you must
have noticed that for yourself. He has had a great deal to try him,
too, and he is afraid of a breakdown. We are going to Weymouth direct
from Lord Ringmar's House, and not a soul is to know anything about
it. You see, if we stay and make elaborate preparations, it will take
quite a week to make a start. It is far better to let people know
afterwards that Lord Ravenspur has been ordered away peremptorily, and
that he is to have perfect rest for the next month or so. Only I can't
sufficiently impress upon you the necessity of keeping this thing
absolutely secret."
"Even from Lady Ringmar?" Vera cried.
"From everybody," Walter said, somewhat sternly. "Vera, your guardian
is in great danger. You are in great danger yourself. I dare not tell
you more now, but perhaps I shall be permitted to say it later on. Go
about your business or pleasure today just as if nothing had
happened."
Vera asked no further questions. She was perhaps just a little hurt
that Walter had refused to take her into his confidence. At the same
time, she was young and vigorous, and the thought of a change was not
displeasing. She passed out of the house presently with a view to a
walk in the park. She stopped before a feeble, blind old man who was
dolefully grinding out hymns on a dilapidated organ. A boy of some ten
or twelve years was guiding the unfortunate man along the pavement.
Vera took out her purse, and placed a shilling in the little tin cup
which the boy was carrying.
"I have not seen you here before," she said kindly.
The man murmured something to the effect that this was his first day
with the organ. He seemed uneasy and undecided in his manner, and,
naturally enough, Vera put this down to the strangeness of his
surroundings. Then she hastened on to the park, and the little
incident passed from her mind. She had tea subsequently with a friend
in Grosvenor Square, and when she came back, barely in time to dress
for dinner, she saw that the blind man was still in the Lane, grinding
industriously at his melancholy airs.
"I suppose Walter has told you," Ravenspur said as they sat down to
dinner. "You know where we are going?"
"He told me part," Vera said. "Really, I don't quite understand what
all this mystery means."
"Indeed, it is absolutely necessary," Ravenspur said gravely. "It is
as necessary for your happiness as it is for mine. I have done my best
to safeguard your welfare----"
"Oh, yes, yes," Vera cried contritely. "I am a most ungrateful girl to
speak in that way. After all, I am looking forward to the trip. It is
probably the last happy time we shall have together. Yes; I have quite
made up my mind to get my own living. But we won't discuss that
tonight."
Dinner was over at length and the carriage was ordered round. Vera
came downstairs presently; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were
sparkling. She was very alluring and attractive in her white dress.
She had made up her mind to be absolutely happy tonight. The dress
was a special present from Lord Ravenspur, and Vera had been afraid to
ask what the Paris house had charged for it. Still, it was the last
extravagance she was going to put Lord Ravenspur to.
"I declare there is my old blind man still," she said, as she got into
the carriage. "He must have been here all day. I must make inquiries,
and see what I can do for him."
The door of the carriage was banged to, and the horses trotted away.
As they passed the spot where the blind man was standing he suddenly
ceased his doleful airs and whistled softly. A moment later and a
shabby figure came shuffling down the Lane.
"That's right, Stevens," the blind man said in a quick, clear voice.
"Now here's the note, and, mind, you are not to deliver it before
half-past twelve. This is most important. If you are successful, come
back to me at the appointed spot, and I will see that you get your
money--fifty pounds."