IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL
As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with
head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised
his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him.
"What!" cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. "I little looked to see you here, Mr.
Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business--"
"Meaning by that--?"
"What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your
little affair with Wilson?"
"My little affair?"
"Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now,
and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days,
he being chosen by Wilson for his friend--and said he had at last found
you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never
in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said
you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody
Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said
to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since
this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished.
He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late
enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more
dinner."
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Law, mystified still.
"Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith,
man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?"
"Sir Arthur," said the other, slowly, "you do me too much justice. I
have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do
so."
"Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no
masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
gone to meet you this very hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
not sent back so prompt and bold an answer."
"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen
Castleton at all."
"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
annoyance.
"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the
misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly."
"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual.
Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
wonder.
"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does
everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!"
As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
empty.
There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
crimes. A strange feeling of oncoming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother
gone?" he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the
ill-lighted passage-way.
"Gone, good sir?" said she, quaveringly. "Why, how should I know where
he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in
Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with
four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your
blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here
alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room.
Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first,
and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your
brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir!
How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand?
Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you
two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell
Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then
you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you
are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know."
Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair.
"'Twas to Bloomsbury Square," he said, as he sprang into saddle and set
heel to the flank of the good horse. "To Bloomsbury Square, then, and
fast!"