THE LADIES MAKE INQUISITION
On the steps Vane Trevor was encountered by Mr. Kincton Knox, in his
drab gaiters and portly white waistcoat, and white hat, and smiling in
guileless hospitality, with both hands extended. “Very good, Vane, my
dear boy—very happy—now we’ve got you, we’ll keep you three weeks at
least. You must not be running away as usual. We’ll not let you off this
time, mind.”
Vane knew that the hospitable exuberances of the worthy gentleman were
liable to be overruled by another power, and did not combat the
hospitable seizure, as vigorously as if there had been no appeal. But he
chatted a while with the old gentleman, and promised to walk down and
see the plantations, and the new road with him. By a sort of silent
compromise, this out-door department was abandoned to Mr. Kincton Knox,
who seldom invaded the interior administration of the empire, and in
justice, it must be alleged that the empress seldom interfered directly
with the “woods and forests,” and contented herself with now and then
lifting up her fine eyes, and mittened hands, as she surveyed his
operations from the window in a resigned horror, and wondered how Mr.
Kincton Knox could satisfy his conscience in wasting money the way he
did!
She had learned, however, that his walks, trees, and roads, were points
on which he might be raised to battle; and as she knew there was little
harm in the pursuit, and really little, if anything done, more than was
needed, and as some one _must_ look after it, she conceded the point
without any systematic resistance, and confined herself to the sort of
silent protest I have mentioned.
While Vane Trevor lingered for a few minutes with the old gentleman,
Master Howard Seymour Knox, who was as little accustomed to wait as
Louis XIV., stumped into the drawing-room, to demand an order upon the
gamekeeper’s wife for Vane Trevor’s revolver.
“Vane Trevor come?” exclaimed Clara.
“I want a note,” cried Howard.
“We shall hear all about the quarrel,” observed the old lady
emphatically, and with a mysterious nod, to her daughter.
“I won’t be kept here all day,” cried Master Howard, with a stamp.
“Well, wait a moment,” cried Clara, “and you shall have the other box of
bonbons. I’ll ring and send Brooks; but you’ve to tell me where Vane
Trevor is.”
“No I won’t, till I get the bonbons.”
Miss Clara was on the point of bursting forth into invective, but being
curious, she did not choose a rupture, and only said,
“And why not, pray?”
“Because you cheated me of the shilling you promised me the same way,
and I told all the servants, and they all said you were a beast.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Sir.”
“You _do_, right well,” he replied; “you asked me to tell you all about
the tutor, and when I did you said it was not worth a farthing, and you
would not give the shilling you promised; that was cheating; you cheat!”
“Do you hear him, mamma?”
“Howard, my dear! what’s all this? Tut, tut!” exclaimed Mrs. Kincton
Knox.
The arrival of the bonbons, however, did more to re-establish peaceful
relations; and the boy, who was anxious to get away, delivered his news
as rapidly as he could.
“Yes, Vane Trevor’s come. When I and Herbert were in the long larch walk
he met us, and they seemed very glad to meet.”
“Ah! Like people who knew one another before?” asked Miss Clara,
eagerly, in tones little above a whisper.
“Yes, and Vane called Herbert, _Maubray_—yes he did.”
“_Maubray?_ Are you _quite_ sure of that?” demanded the elder lady,
peering into his face and forgetting her dignity in the intensity of her
curiosity.
“Yes, that I am, quite sure,” replied the boy wagging his head, and then
spinning himself round on his heel.
“Be _quiet_, Sir,” hissed Miss Clara, clutching him by the arm; “answer
me,—now do be a good boy and we’ll let you away in a minute. How do you
remember the name was Maubray, and not some other name _like_ Maubray?”
“Because I remember Sir Richard Maubray that you and mamma’s always
talking about.”
“We’re _not_ always talking about him,” said Clara.
“No, Sir, we’re _not_,” repeated the matron, severely.
“I’ll tell you no more, if your both so cross. I _won’t_,” retorted
Master Howard, as distinctly as the bonbons would allow him.
“Well, _well_, _will_ you have done, and answer my question? Did he call
him Maubray often?” repeated Clara.
“Yes—_no_. He _did_, though—he called him Maubray twice. I’m sure of
that.”
Mother and daughter exchanged glances at this point, and Mrs. Kincton
made a very slow little bow with compressed lips, and her dark eyes
steadily fixed on her daughter, and then there was a little “h’m!”
“And they seemed to know one another before?” said Mrs. Kincton Knox.
“Yes, I told you that before.”
“And glad to meet?” she continued.
“Yes, that is, _Vane_. I _don’t_ think _Herbert_ was.”
Again the ladies interchanged a meaning glance.
“Where is Vane Trevor now?” inquired the elder lady, gathering up her
majestic manner again.
“He was talking to the governor at the hall-door.”
“Oh! then we shall see him in a moment,” said Mrs. Kincton Knox.
“Mind now, Howard, you’re not to say one word to Mr. Herbert or to Vane
Trevor about your telling us anything,” added Miss Clara.
“Aint I though? I just will, both of them, my man, unless you pay me my
shilling,” replied Master Howard.
“Mam_ma_, do you _hear_ him?” exclaimed Miss Clara in a piteous fury.
“What do you _mean_, Sir?” interposed his mamma vigorously, for she was
nearly as much frightened as the young lady.
“I mean I’ll _tell_ them; yes I _will_, I’m going,” and he skipped with
a horrid grimace, and his thumb to his nose, toward the door.
“Come _back_, Sir; how dare you?” almost screamed Miss Clara.
“Here, Sir, take your shilling,” cried Mrs. Kincton Knox, with a stamp
on the floor and flashing eye, fumbling hurriedly at her purse to
produce the coin in question. “There it is, Sir, and _remember_.”
Whether the oracular “remember” was a menace or an entreaty I know not;
but the young gentleman fixed the coin in his eye after the manner of an
eye-glass, and with some horrid skips and a grin of triumph at Miss
Clara, he made his exit.
“Where _can_ he learn those vile, low tricks?” exclaimed Miss Clara. “I
don’t believe there is another such boy in England. He’ll _disgrace_ us,
you’ll find, and he’ll kill _me_, I know.”
“He has been extremely troublesome; and I’ll speak to him by-and-by,”
said the matron.
“_Speak_, indeed; much he cares!”
“I’ll make him care, though.”
There was a little silence, and the ladies mentally returned to the more
momentous topic from which the extortion of Howard Seymour had for a
moment diverted them.
“What do you think of it?” murmured Mrs. Kincton Knox.
“Oh! I think there’s but _one_ thing to think,” answered Miss Clara.
“I look upon it as _perfectly conclusive_; and, in fact, his appearance
tallies so exactly with the descriptions we have heard that we hardly
needed all this corroboration. As it is, I am satisfied.”
At this moment the door opened, and Vane Trevor was announced.
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