ALEXANDER’S EXPERIENCE.
Words of fire and words of scorn
I have written—let them go!
Words of hate—heart-broken, torn
With this strong and sudden woe.
All my scorn, she could not doubt,
Was but love, turned inside out—OWEN MEREDITH.
“Alick, are you mad? Think what you do!”
Alick turned quickly and faced Dick Hammond, whose hand had touched his
shoulder.
“Mr. Hammond, you here? By what right, sir, do you dare——”
“By the right of kinship. Come, come, Alick, your father and my mother
were brother and sister. We are first-cousins and old playmates, Alick.
We have been rivals, but are so no longer. We need not be enemies. Let
us be friends, Alick,” said Dick, frankly holding out his hand.
“And do you begin your overtures of friendship by dogging my footsteps
and spying my actions?” demanded Alexander, putting his hands behind
him.
“Nonsense—no!”
“Why are you here then, sir? your party have gone home.”
“Our carriage was full. I lingered behind to call a hansom for myself,
and so became an accidental witness to your challenge of Prince Ernest,”
said Dick, good-humoredly.
The name of his imaginary rival sent Alexander off into another fit of
frenzy.
“Yes, I have challenged the diabolical villain, and, by my life, I will
meet him!” he exclaimed, grinding out the words between his set teeth
and livid lips.
Mr. Hammond knew that to argue with him then and there upon the subject
of the intended duel would be as useless as to reason with a lunatic.
Yet, in a few hours, he hoped he might be able to bring him to his
senses.
So, laying his hand kindly upon the demoniac’s arm, he said:
“Alick, go home with me, or permit me to go home with you, while we talk
this matter over.”
“No!” exclaimed the madman violently, throwing off the friendly grasp.
“Leave me to myself—I advise you to do so!”
“Alick, I dare not leave you, in your present state of mind. Even if we
were not cousins, we are still countrymen! Consider me your sincere
friend, and take me with you in this crisis of your affairs,” pleaded
Dick again, gently essaying to restrain the infuriated man.
“No! leave me alone, I say, Hammond! for your own good, take care of
yourself and don’t interfere with a desperate man!” cried Alexander,
breaking loose.
A hansom-cab was passing at the moment.
“Cab!” cried Alexander, seeing that it was empty.
The hansom pulled up, and Alexander threw himself into it, and was gone
before Dick could prevent him.
“I must get another, and follow him if possible,” said Mr. Hammond,
making the best of his way to the nearest cab-stand.
Meanwhile, General Lyon, Anna, and Drusilla returned to their lodgings.
General Lyon, after a few moments of gay bantering of Drusilla upon her
social triumphs of the evening, went to rest.
Drusilla, as soon as she was free, hurried to her own room, to look
after her little son.
Lenny was sleeping very quietly in his crib, beside his mother’s bed;
although, indeed, as the first beams of the morning sun were now
glinting through the crevices of the window-blinds, it was almost time
for Master Lenny to wake up for his morning bath and airing.
And now what did the queen of the ball do?
Tearing off her jeweled wreath of spring flowers, and throwing aside her
gems, she cast herself down upon her child’s bed and burst into a
passion of tears, and wept and sobbed as if her heart would break.
It was not her sobs or tears that awakened little Lenny. They were too
silent even in their vehemence to disturb the child’s serene rest. It
was probably his hour to wake. He opened his eyes, and, seeing his
mother in so much grief and believing from his brief experience that
nothing but his own naughtiness ever grieved “Doosa,” he put his arms
around her neck, and said;
“Don’t ky, Doosa—don’t ky! ’deed Lenny be dood boy!”
“Oh, Lenny, Lenny! love me, or my heart will break!” she cried,
gathering the child to her bosom and pressing him there.
“Lenny do love—don’t ky! ’deed Lenny be dood boy—’deed Lenny will!” said
the child, kissing and hugging her fondly.
“My darling child, you are the only comfort I have in this world,” she
sobbed, as she squeezed him to her bosom and covered him with kisses.
“Hey-day! There, I knew it! and that is the reason I came in,” said a
voice in the open doorway.
Drusilla looked up and saw Anna standing there.
“I was on my way to my own room, but found your door ajar, so I took the
liberty to look in,” said Mrs. Hammond.
“Come in, dear Anna. But I should think you would be tired enough to
hurry off to bed.”
“No, not yet; I haven’t get over the excitement of witnessing your
success, Drusa. And I have so much to say about it before I can sleep.
And besides Dick hasn’t got in yet.”
“Are you uneasy about him, Anna?” sympathetically inquired Drusilla.
“Not at all. I suppose he hasn’t been able to pick up a cab and has
perhaps started to walk home. Uneasy? No indeed! what is to hurt him in
broad daylight? But, Drusilla, you have been crying! You have been
crying hard! Now was it ever heard that the belle of the evening came
home from her triumphs and cried?” said Mrs. Hammond, sitting down
beside her friend.
“Oh, Anna! Anna! Oh, Anna! Anna! if you knew how little my heart was in
it all! What _could_ I care for all those strange people—I who only
longed to be reconciled with my Alick!” she answered, bursting into a
torrent of tears.
“He was there,” said Anna, quietly.
“Do I not know it? He was there all the evening. He was near me many
times. I felt that he was, though I did not see him; for oh, Anna, I was
afraid to look towards him and meet again that cold and cutting gaze
that almost slew me in the Tower!”
“Don’t ky, Doosa! Please don’t ky. ’Deed Lenny be dood boy. Let Lenny
wipe eye,” said the child, taking up the edge of his night-gown and
trying to dry his mother’s tears.
“My darling, you _are_ good, and I won’t cry to distress you, poor
little soul. I should have died long ago if it hadn’t been for you, my
little angel. There, Doosa has done crying now,” she said, wiping her
eyes and smiling on the child.
“Drusa, my dear, you were very brilliant last evening, not only
beautiful, but brilliant. I really thought you enjoyed queening it in
society. You laughed and talked and danced the whole evening. I should
never have suspected you of playing a part.”
“Oh Anna! I was not exactly playing a part either. Oh, Anna, you have
heard how the timid Chinese sound a gong and make a terrible noise to
drown their own fears and to dismay their foes when they go into battle?
Anna, it was much the same with me. I had to laugh and talk and dance
and jest to deafen me to the cry in my heart, which was almost breaking
all the while. Oh, Anna, he has ceased to love me now! I know it, he has
entirely ceased to love me!”
“I don’t feel so sure of that myself, Drusilla. If you, were afraid to
look at him, I was not. I saw him several times in the course of the
evening; and whenever I saw him he was standing near you and following
you with his eyes.”
“He was? He was, Anna?” eagerly, breathlessly inquired the young wife.
“Indeed he was.”
“You are sure?”
“Quite sure. I watched him.”
“Ah, but—perhaps he did so in hate or in anger,” said Drusilla, with a
sigh.
Anna was silent.
“Say! was it not in anger or in hate, Anna?”
“I thought it was in jealousy, and that you know is a sign of love.”
“Oh, if I thought so! if I thought so! how quickly I would set all that
jealousy at rest. How soon I would convince my Alick that I care for but
him in this whole world!” she exclaimed, fervently clasping her hands.
“Indeed, Drusilla, I hope you would do nothing of the sort. He richly
deserves to suffer.”
“Oh, Anna! you don’t like Alick,” said Drusilla, reproachfully.
“Like him? No, _that_ I don’t! That’s the gospel truth. But there is
Dick, so good-night, or rather good-morning, my dear,” said Mrs.
Hammond, kissing her cousin on the brow and then leaving the room.
“Oh, if I could believe as Anna suggests, how quickly, how gladly I
would set all my Alick’s doubts at rest. But ah! it is not so. He has
ceased to love me. I am sure of it now—sure of it!”
She struggled to keep back her tears, so as not to distress her child,
who was still sitting on her lap and watching her countenance with eyes
full of anxious sympathy.
As soon as Anna had left her, Drusilla rang for Pina, and with her
maid’s assistance changed her splendid evening dress for a cool white
wrapper. Then, before lying down, she superintended little Lenny’s
morning bath and toilet, and saw him eat his simple breakfast and sent
him out with his nurse for a walk.
Then at last she lay down to take an hour’s rest, if not sleep, before
joining the family at the late breakfast.
Meanwhile Anna hurried off to her own room. Anna was weary and drowsy,
and with no heavy cares on her mind, was only anxious to find her pillow
and go to sleep. But to rest was not to be Anna’s good fortune that
morning. She found Dick just come home, looking so haggard and harassed
that his aspect terrified her into the suspicion that her “unlucky dog”
had been so unfortunate as to meet with some of his friends.
“Dick! in the name of Heaven, what is the matter?” she exclaimed.
“Matter? Nothing,” answered Mr. Hammond, telling unscrupulously, and
almost unconsciously, the regulation lie in such cases made and
provided.
“Dick! when a man says there is nothing the matter, with such a look as
that on his face, it is a sign there is so much the matter that he dares
not confess it. Now, Dick, I will know,” she said, going to him, laying
her hands upon his shoulders and gazing steadfastly into his face.
“Well, Anna, what do you see?” he inquired, a little sadly, as he met
her eyes.
“I see that you are quite sober, at least, poor soul; but oh, Dick! you
unfortunate fellow, where have you been since we left you!”
“About town, Anna.”
“About town! Oh, yes, exactly! About town! I know too well what that
means. Oh, Dick! Dick! we ought never to bring you within sight of a
town! We ought to keep you in the woods all the time. Now make a clean
breast of it, Dick. Whom have you been with?”
“I happened to meet with an old friend down town,” answered Dick,
solemnly and a little maliciously.
“An old friend down town! Oh, precisely! I know what _that_ means also!
Dick! Dick! that proverb, ‘Save me from my friends,’ must have been
written for you. Now out with it at once! How much has your friend, or
set of friends, robbed you of this time?”
“Robbed me of, Anna?”
“Yes! robbed you of! You know what I mean. How much have you lost? A
thousand pounds—ten thousand?”
“Anna, you think I have been gambling?”
“What else can I think, Dick? It breaks my heart to think it, though.”
“Anna, dearest,” said Dick, taking her hands from his shoulder and
holding them in his own, while he sought her eyes, “Anna, did I not
promise you before we were married, that after I should become your
husband I would never touch cards or dice again? Answer me, Anna.”
“Yes, Dick, you did, dear.”
“And—bad as I was, at my very worst, did you ever know me to break my
pledged word?”
“No indeed, I never did, dear.”
“And do you think I would begin by breaking it to my wife?” he asked,
gazing sadly into her eyes.
“Oh, Dick, Dick, my darling, I beg your pardon! I do indeed!” she said,
throwing her arms around him and kissing him with such an effusion of
affection that it must have consoled him for her momentary injustice.
“Oh, Dick, forgive me, love!”
“All right, Anna,” he said, smiling and returning her caresses with
interest. “I cannot blame you for doubting and fearing for me, until
time shall prove how steadfastly I shall keep my pledge to you. I only
wish it could be otherwise with you, and that for your own peace you
could have full faith in me; but I know that this cannot be so, for it
must be a part of my punishment for past follies still to inspire doubt
of my future conduct.” He spoke gravely and sadly, and the tears rushed
to Anna’s eyes as she answered him:
“Oh, Dick, darling, not so! I never doubted you before, and, after this,
I _cannot_ do so again. It was I who was a sinner, Dick, to doubt you at
all, you dear, good, honest——”
—“Dog,” added Dick, laughing; “for even an unlucky dog may still be an
honest one. Yes, Anna,” he added, after a pause, “I do think you may
begin to trust me. We have been married about two years, and in all that
time not only have I never touched cards or dice, but I have not even
wished to do so. For your own peace of mind, try to trust me, my wife.”
“I _do_, Dick! I do! It was only your look that alarmed me; and, as we
were all safe at home here, I could not think of anything but your
‘friends’ that could happen to you. And, more than all, when I asked you
what was the matter, you answered, ‘nothing,’ which, as I hinted before
always means, ‘Nothing could be worse.’”
“Well, Anna, it really was ‘nothing,’ in one sense of the word,
‘nothing,’ or not much to us that is.”
“What was it, then?”
“Well, I suppose I may tell you without the risk of giving you any great
pain. Alexander Lyon has gone mad with jealousy.”
Anna at first looked startled, and then she burst into a hearty peal of
laughter.
“I never saw a man out of Bedlam so frantic,” continued Dick.
“I said so!” laughed Anna. “Who is he jealous of? You?”
“Of the whole world, I think!”
“I am very glad to hear it. I hope it will do him good.”
“Yes, but he has challenged Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden,” said Dick,
solemnly.
Anna became very grave.
“And if he should not be prevented he will fight him.”
“Fight a duel! Dick, do you know what you are saying? Are you in your
senses?”
“I am. It is Alick who is mad.”
“Fight a duel! What! in this age and in this country?”
“Yes, in this age and in this country, my dear! And I do not see, for my
part, how it can be helped—I mean prevented—except by the police. I saw
the whole thing, Anna. Just as your carriage drove off, Alick claps his
hand upon the prince and charges him then and there with insulting a
lady and stealing a bouquet. You should have seen Prince Ernest then.
Talk about the Germans being phlegmatic! Though Prince Ernest is an
Austrian, by the way. Why, Anna, he jumped two feet from the ground at
the first charge, and vaulted four feet into the air at the second. If
they are permitted to meet, he will eat Alick’s head.”
“A duel in England! and at this time of the world!”
“But you must remember that it is not to be between Englishmen, but
between an Austrian and an American and not, probably, in England; but
upon some of the little islands of the channel.”
“I thought duels had gone out about the time that railroads came in,”
said Anna.
“So did I.”
“Didn’t you speak to Alick? Didn’t you try to prevent the challenge?”
“Of course I did, but with what hope of success? I might as well have
preached to the winds as to Alexander; and as to Prince Ernest, after
the first words had passed, it would have been quite hopeless as well as
very presumptuous to have tried to expostulate with him. I did not even
attempt it. He had been outraged, grossly outraged, and was in a
towering passion that even overtopped Alexander’s fury. And if Alick had
not challenged the prince, the prince would have challenged him.”
“But the duel must be stopped!”
“Of course, if possible.”
“What can be done?”
“Our only hope is in the police. It was in this view of the case, and
not in any prospect of a successful interview with Alick, that I jumped
into a cab and tried to follow him and find out his address; but he had
a minute’s start of me, and so of course I lost him. I drove to
Mivart’s; but he does not stop there, I was told. I went on speculation
to several places where I hoped to hear of him; but without success.
Lastly, I did what I should have done at first—went to Scotland Yard and
lodged information of the projected breach of the peace with the police.
Then I came home. So you see, my dear, it was my anxious night race
through the London streets that gave me the haggard look of a ruined
gamester.”
“It was nice of you, Dick, to take so much trouble to save that good for
nothing fellow. Shall you tell Drusa?”
“Of course not. You would not advise me to do so?”
“No; for it would be useless as well as painful for her to know anything
about it.”
“You will tell grandpa?”
“Yes; as soon as he is up and has had his breakfast, I must consult with
him as to what further can be done. Now, Anna, dear, you had better try
to get a little sleep before breakfast; as for me, I shall go and take a
bath and get a cup of coffee, and be off to Scotland Yard again, and be
back time enough to meet my uncle when he appears.”
So saying, Dick rang for his valet and disappeared.
But sleep was driven far from Anna for that day. She, too, found her
best restorative in a bath, a change of dress, and a cup of strong
coffee. Having drank this last, she went down into the drawing-room to
wait for the other members of the family.
But even there she could not be at rest, the news of this intended duel
had excited her so much; and not that she cared for her cousin
Alexander, either, but that she cared for Drusilla: and she was anxious
for the return of Dick, to know whether the detective policemen had
succeeded in tracing Alexander in time to stop his murderous and
suicidal purpose. She walked from window to door, and from door to
window, unable to sit still; she took up a book, and laid it down; tried
her embroidery frame, and cast it aside, unable to read or work; she
opened her piano, but could not play. So she maundered about until the
family circle began to gather.
The first that appeared was little Lenny, in the arms of his nurse. He
looked fresh, bright and gay from his morning walk, and was full of
chatter about a monkey and an organ grinder.
Next came Drusilla, looking rather pale, but very pretty in her plainly
banded dark hair and her cool white morning dress. She greeted Anna, and
then sat down and called her child to her knee, and began to ask him
about his morning walks. And Lenny, having found his most interested
hearer, chattered away faster than ever.
The third comer was General Lyon, looking quite refreshed after several
hours of undisturbed repose.
“Good-morning, my dears. I hope I have not kept you waiting,” he said,
as he saluted the two ladies.
“Oh no, sir; we are almost just assembled,” said Drusilla.
“Then, my dear Anna, ring and order breakfast at once. But where is
Dick? At the nearest mews, giving his opinion of the proprietor’s latest
purchase, I dare say.”
“Oh, no, sir. He is not there; but he did not feel like sleeping, so he
took a bath and dressed and went out to take a walk. He told me he would
be back in time for breakfast,” said Anna.
“And you would have thought Anna was some young girl waiting a visit
from her betrothed, to have seen her go from one window to another, and
gaze out up and down the street,” said Drusilla.
“Anna, you do look a little nervous and excited; what is the matter?”
anxiously inquired the General, for he, too, feared that the ‘unlucky
dog’ might again have broken bounds and given her trouble. “What is it,
Anna?”
“It is loss of rest, grandpa. I could not sleep, so I did not even lie
down. These late hours are a terrible tax on a country-bred woman like
myself,” replied Anna, evasively.
“To everybody, Anna. I must really put my veto upon parties for _every
night_. For once a week now I would consent to them——But here is Dick at
last!—Why the deuce don’t that fellow serve breakfast! Did you ring,
Anna?”
“Yes, sir; and I hear the jingling of cups on a tray and so I suppose he
is coming,” said Anna, answering her grandpa, but looking anxiously at
her husband as he entered the room.
Dick saw that troubled gaze, and smiled to reassure her. Then, after
greeting the General and Drusilla, he turned to Anna and said,
metaphorically, but in a way that she understood:
“I think I can get that horse I went after, Anna.”
“There! I knew he had been to a stable, and Anna said he hadn’t,”
laughed the General.
“I did not know that he had gone to one, grandpa.”
“Of course you did not, my child, or you wouldn’t have spoken so. But
you see, I knew him better even than you did. And now let us have
breakfast.”
As soon as the morning meal was over, Drusilla took little Lenny and
retired to her own room. This was not her custom in the forenoon; but on
this occasion she acted with a purpose. She had not failed to see that
both Anna and Dick were seriously disturbed, and that they wished to be
alone with the head of the family; but she had not in her thoughts
connected their disturbance in any manner with her own husband. On the
contrary, she, too, unjustly suspected poor Dick of having in some
manner fallen from grace—of having, perhaps, been tempted to a gambling
table and lost more money than he could just then conveniently pay, and
of being forced to apply to the General. So hard, you see, it is for a
young man who has once lost the confidence of his friends, to recover
it, even from those who love him best. So never suspecting that
Alexander was on the verge of crime and death, but sighing over the
supposed danger of poor Dick, Drusilla sat down with little Lenny in her
own chamber.
As soon as the party in the breakfast parlor was left alone, General
Lyon rang for the waiter to take away the breakfast service, and when
that was done, he turned to his young people and said, somewhat sternly,
for he still suspected Dick:
“Now, then, what is it? Speak out. Let us hear the worst, and hear it at
once, for Heaven’s sake.”
“You should have heard it at once, but we could not say anything about
it before Drusilla,” said Dick.
“I suppose not. But she is gone now, so why do you hesitate? What is the
matter?”
“Sir, it is this: Alexander Lyon has challenged Prince Ernest of
Hohenlinden.”
“Good Lord! is the man mad?” exclaimed the General.
“Of course he is. Every man is mad who challenges another to mortal
combat.”
“Great Heaven! what is to be done? How did you know this, Dick?”
demanded the General, starting up and beginning to walk the floor with
rapid strides, as was his custom when greatly excited. “How do you know
this, Dick, I ask?”
Mr. Hammond related the discovery he had made on the morning after the
ball.
“But, good Heaven! this purpose cannot be carried out in a Christian and
civilized country. I do not think that at this day of the world any two
Englishmen would ever think of such a barbarism as fighting a duel, and
you may depend that no two foreigners are going to be allowed to do it.
Duel indeed! Chivalry is dead, and law reigns in its stead. Dick, you
and I must go before some magistrate and give the information. We must
go at once. I’ll put on my boots; you call a cab,” said the General,
excitedly.
“Sir, I went immediately and laid the information before the Chief of
Police at Scotland Yard. He promised to take prompt steps to arrest the
challenger and prevent the hostile meeting. An hour ago I went again to
the office, and learned that two detectives had been sent in pursuit of
the parties. They had not yet returned to report at the office.”
“And that is all you know?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then we must go all the same. I cannot rest quietly here while my dead
brother’s son is in peril, even if he is a fool and a madman!—Jake!” he
called to his passing servant, “bring my boots to my room, and then run
and call a cab. And, my dear Anna,” he said, turning to his
granddaughter, “put a guard upon your face as well as upon your lips, in
Drusilla’s presence. She must not know what has occurred.”
“I fear she already suspects something wrong,” answered Anna.
“Oh, she probably thinks as you did, Anna—that I have got into a scrape.
I saw how pitifully she regarded me as she left the room. She thinks I
have fallen among thieves again. Well, let her continue to think so;
better that than she should suspect the truth,” suggested Dick.
“Indeed she shall not harbor a doubt of you, Dick, darling, even to save
her from the pain of knowing the truth. But never fear; trust to me to
spare her feelings without compromising your character.”
In a very few minutes the General came in booted and gloved for his
drive. Dick was quite ready and the cab was announced to be waiting. And
so with a few last words of warning and encouragement to Anna, they left
her to go upon their anxious errand.
When they arrived at the office of the chief they received information
that the two detectives who had been sent in pursuit of the would-be
duellists had returned and reported.
And this was the substance of their report:
That Prince Ernest of Hohenlinden, with two gentlemen of his
_suite_—being his physician in ordinary and his second; and that Lord
Killcrichtoun, with two attendants, his second, and his servant, had
left London by the eight o’clock train for Southampton.
“And what the mischief have they done that for?” inquired General Lyon,
in perplexity.
“Their intention seems clear enough, I think. They mean to cross over to
some one of the Channel Islands, where they think they may blow each
other’s brains out comfortably without interruption,” answered the
chief.
“And now what the deuce is to be done? They left at eight, you say? It
is twelve now, and there is a train just starting, if I remember
rightly; and it is too late to pursue them by this train; and there will
not be another start until three o’clock, I think? At least such is my
impression of the hours of the trains to Southampton, from looking over
the time-table with young Spencer yesterday, before he went down to meet
a friend who had come by the American steamer,” said the General.
“Yes, you are quite right about the trains; and right also about the
uselessness of attempting to pursue these madmen by rail. But I have
telegraphed the police there to be on the lookout for them.”
“And we can do nothing in the meantime?”
“Nothing but wait patiently.”
“Can we wait here?” inquired the General.
“Certainly, if you can make yourselves comfortable, though it is not a
pleasant place to ask you to sit down in.”
“Thank you. We shall gladly avail ourselves of your kind permission. You
see we are so very anxious on this subject, that we should like to be at
hand when you receive an answer to your telegram. How long do you think
it will be before you get it?”
“Can’t say. If they received mine before the eight o’clock train from
London reaches Southampton, they might have met the parties at the
station and could have answered me immediately. If, however, the train
reached there first, of course the parties might have got out and got
off, and the officers would in that case have some trouble to look them
up.”
“So then you may get a telegram any moment now, or you may have to wait
several hours,” said Dick.
“Exactly,” replied the chief.
“Then, uncle,” said Dick, perceiving that their presence in the office
really annoyed or, at least, incommoded the civil officer, “I think we
will adjourn to the White Swan, which is only a few steps from this, and
wait there until Mr. Harding receives his telegram, when perhaps he will
be kind enough to send us word of the news.”
“Yes, certainly, if you prefer that arrangement, though you are quite
welcome to remain here, if you can make yourselves comfortable where
there are so many coming and going.”
“I thank you, but we will go to the White Swan,” said the General,
rising.
But just then the clicking of the telegraph-wire in the adjoining office
was heard, and the chief raised his hands, saying:
“Be kind enough to stop. That may be the answer we expect now.”
The General and Dick sat down and waited. A few minutes passed, and then
a man entered from the telegraph office, and handed the chief a folded
paper.
“Yes; here it is!” said Mr. Harding, opening and reading:
“_The parties reached here at ten o’clock and took the steamer for
Guernsey at a quarter after. We wait orders._”
“There you see, sir, it is as I feared! They got off before my telegram
could have reached Southampton—before, in point of fact, it had been
dispatched from London. And it is as I suspected—they are going to one
of the Channel Islands to kill each other at their leisure,” said the
chief.
“And now what the deuce is to be done? Can’t they still be followed and
stopped?”
“I fear not until they have accomplished their purpose. There is no
other boat leaves for Guernsey until to-morrow.”
“No other packet? But, good Heavens, can we not hire a yacht and go in
pursuit of them? We can run down to Southampton by the next train, and,
in so large a port as that, we could be sure of being able to charter a
vessel for the trip.”
“I fear, sir, I should not be justified in taking the responsibility of
incurring so great an expense,” said the chief, slowly.
“Oh, never mind the expense, man—I will take that upon myself! I would
not grudge a thousand pounds to save my mad nephew from this meditated
crime and folly. I will make you quite safe in regard to the expense,
only I should wish you to send a sufficient police-force with me to stop
the duel by force if it cannot be done by persuasion. Come! it is only
half-past twelve o’clock now, and the train for Southampton don’t start
until three. You have two hours and a half to make up your mind and make
all the necessary arrangements. Come, what do you say?”
“Oh, of course the thing can be done, sir, if you choose to incur the
heavy expense of hiring the vessel. You can take two of our men with
you, and procure two more at Southampton.”
“All right! Now we must go back to our hotel to prepare for our journey.
There is the address. Now how soon will you send the men up to us?”
“In an hour, sir, or at least in good time for you to reach the train;
or they can join you at the station.”
“I would rather they would come up within an hour at furthest to our
hotel, for then I should feel surer of them, and if they do not report
at the time specified, of course I should wait for them until we get to
the station, and then miss them there, we should have to go down to
Southampton without them. Send them to our hotel, if possible, and as
soon as may be, if you please, Mr. Harding.”
“I will do so, General,” answered the chief.
And the General and Mr. Hammond left the police office and returned to
the Morley House.
Here a difficulty met them—how to account to Drusilla for their sudden
journey without alarming her. Neither the General nor Dick had ingenuity
enough to invent a means of satisfying her mind without telling her an
untruth.
“We must leave it to Anna’s wit,” said Dick, as they entered the house.
And the General assented.
On entering the drawing-room, they found no one there, except Master
Lenny, attended by his nurse.
“Where are the ladies?” inquired the General.
“They are both in their rooms fast asleep, sir,” answered Pina.
“Then go and wake up Mrs. Hammond, and ask her to come to us quickly
here. And don’t, upon any account, disturb Mrs. Lyon,” said the General.
Pina left the room, with little Lenny lagging after her.
“It is very fortunate the two ladies are asleep, for now we can get Anna
here, and talk to her alone; tell her all that we have learned, and warn
her how to deal with Drusilla,” said the General.
Pina soon returned, with Mrs. Hammond, who in her great anxiety to hear
the news came into the drawing-room just as she had risen from her bed,
with her white dressing-gown wrapped around her, and her fair hair
flowing over her shoulders.
“And now?—And now?—What?” she eagerly, breathlessly demanded.
“Pina, my good girl, take little Lenny down to the walk,” said the
General. And when the nurse had taken the child from the room, he turned
to Anna, and said:
“We know all that can be known now, my love.”
“Good Heavens! they have not met with any fatal result?” she gasped.
“No, don’t be alarmed! They have not met! but they have gone off to one
of the Channel islands, to carry out their intentions. And Dick and
myself are going to follow them with police sufficient to stop the duel
by force, if we cannot do it by persuasion.”
“When do you leave?”
“By the three o’clock train. It is one now, and we should leave the
house a little after two; we have not much more than an hour to prepare;
so, my dear, I wish you would just order us up a lunch, and then go and
see to having a change of underclothing and a few pocket-handkerchiefs
put up for Dick and myself.”
“Yes;—but now—Drusilla? She is asleep. Of course, you would not wish her
disturbed?” said Anna, pausing at the door.
“By no means! For every reason, let her sleep until we are off. We must
go without bidding her good-by. And we must trust to you, Anna, to make
our apologies to her, and also to explain our absence, without telling
the cause of our journey.”
“A most difficult task, my dear grandpa; but I will undertake it,” said
Anna, as she left the room.
The General and his nephew also went to their chambers to put themselves
in what Dick called traveling rig. When they returned to the
drawing-room they found their lunch on the table, and their two
portmanteaus on the floor, and Anna presiding over these preparations.
“Half past one o’clock! We have scarcely an hour now to get our lunch
and reach the train in time. Sit down at once, Dick,” said the General,
placing himself at the table.
Dick and Anna followed his example.
“Where is little Lenny? I would like him to take lunch with us this last
time before we go. Where is he, Anna, my dear?” inquired the General.
“Dear grandpa, don’t you know you sent him out to walk with Pina?”
“Oh! yes! so I did! That was to get rid of the girl while I talked with
you,” said the General, in a low tone, then raising his voice, he called
to Jacob, who stood waiting at some little distance, and said:
“Here, you, Jake! Go out upon the sidewalk, or around the square, and
see if you can find Master Lenny and his nurse; and if you can, then
tell Pina to bring him home immediately, I wish to see him before I
leave.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll find them. I saw them on the corner watching of a Punch
and Judy, not half an hour ago,” said the boy, bowing and leaving the
room.
“I _do_ want to see the little fellow, and kiss him good-by before we
go,” said the General, apologetically, as he poured for himself a glass
of sherry.
“La, grandpa, you talk as if you were going to the antipodes,” laughed
Mrs. Hammond.
“I dare say I talk like an old fool, Anna, but I am very foolishly fond
of that little fellow.”
“Oh, grandpa, I did not mean to say anything of the kind, and I beg your
pardon.”
“Tut, tut, I knew you didn’t. Come, Dick, have you got through?”
“Very nearly. There is time enough, sir.”
“I wouldn’t miss the train for a thousand pounds. And bless my soul,
those men from Scotland Yard have not reported yet. I do hope they will
be punctual,” said the General, impatiently.
At that moment the waiter appeared, and announced two persons below
inquiring for General Lyon or Mr. Hammond.
“Our men at last,” said Dick, “tell them to wait for us in the hall.”
The waiter went out to take the message.
And the General and Dick completed their last preparations.
“And that child hasn’t come yet!” exclaimed the General, very
impatiently.
“Time enough, uncle—the cab hasn’t come yet,” said Dick.
But at that instant the waiter once more appeared and announced the cab.
“Let us go,” said Dick.
“Not yet; we can wait five minutes for little Lenny. Waiter, will you
oblige me by going out upon the sidewalk and looking for my servants,
and if you find them tell them to come in immediately with Master
Leonard. I want to see him before I leave town.”
“Certainly, sir,” said the man, hurrying from the room.
And General Lyon sat down to wait impatiently, while Dick and Anna stood
withdrawn into the bay window, making their adieux.
“Indeed, dear Anna,” said Dick, “I would rather you should let Drusilla
think it is some scrape of mine that has carried us off from London than
that you should permit her to suspect the truth. It will not matter to
let her deceive herself for a few hours or days, until the suspense and
danger shall be over.”
“I will do the best I can; but, oh, Dick! do you think that you can
possibly be in time? in time to prevent a fatal meeting?” she anxiously
inquired.
“We must try to do so; we must do our utmost and trust the event to
Providence.”
“Dick,” said the General, impatiently interrupting them, “our five
minutes are up, and neither little Lenny, our servants, or the waiter
has returned. Pray, Dick, oblige me by going out for a few minutes to
see if they are coming. I hate to trouble you, my boy, but I must kiss
little Lenny before we go.”
“Oh, I will look for him with pleasure, sir. I dare say he and his whole
suite of attendants are gathered around some organ grinder, monkey, or
dancing dog, and can’t tear themselves away from the attraction,”
laughed Dick, as he hurriedly left the room.
Again the General sat down to wait, but being very restless and
impatient, again started up and walked the floor with rapid strides for
three or four minutes.
“Another five minutes gone!” he presently exclaimed—“another five
minutes gone, and none of them returned yet; and now I have not a second
more of time left. I will go down and look after them myself.”
And so saying, he picked up his hat and rushed down-stairs and out of
the street door.
He met Dick, the waiter and Jacob, hurrying towards the house.
“Well! well! Where is little Lenny?” he quickly demanded.
“We cannot find him or his nurse anywhere,” said the waiter.
“I saw them with the Punch and Judy half an hour ago. I reckon as they
followed of ’em to some distant street,” said Jacob.
“I do not think there is the slightest reason to be alarmed. Pina is
quite capable of taking care of the child,” remarked Dick.
“Oh, I am not in the least alarmed about little Lenny; I was only
anxious to bid the little fellow good-by before leaving town; but, if I
cannot do so, I must be content. Well, Dick, my boy, we must really now
be off. We will run up and bid Anna good-by and go,” said the General.
But Anna saved them the trouble. She came down-stairs, followed by a
porter bringing the travelers’ portmanteaus, which were placed in the
cab. The policemen were in waiting.
General Lyon and Dick kissed and blessed Anna, and commended Drusilla
and little Lenny to her care; and then entered their cab, followed by
their attendants, and their whole party set out for the railroad
station.