Harley went straight to Peschiera's hotel. He was told that the Count
had walked out with Mr. Frank Hazeldean and some other gentlemen who
had breakfasted with him. He had left word, in case any one called,
that he had gone to Tattersall's to look at some horses that were
for sale. To Tattersall's went Harley. The Count was in the yard
leaning against a pillar, and surrounded by fashionable friends. Lord
L'Estrange paused, and, with a heroic effort at self-mastery, repressed
his rage. "I may lose all if I show that I suspect him; and yet I must
insult and fight him rather than leave his movements free. Ah, is that
young Hazeldean? A thought strikes me!" Frank was standing apart from
the group round the Count, and looking very absent and very sad. Harley
touched him on the shoulder, and drew him aside unobserved by the Count.
"Mr. Hazeldean, your uncle Egerton is my dearest friend. Will you be a
friend to me? I want you."
"My lord--"
"Follow me. Do not let Count Peschiera see us talking together."
Harley quitted the yard, and entered St. James's Park by the little
gate close by. In a very few words he informed Frank of Violante's
disappearance, and of his reasons for suspecting the Count. Frank's
first sentiment was that of indignant disbelief that the brother of
Beatrice could be so vile; but as he gradually called to mind the
cynical and corrupt vein of the Count's familiar conversation--the
hints to Peschiera's prejudice that had been dropped by Beatrice
herself--and the general character for brilliant and daring profligacy
which even the admirers of the Count ascribed to him--Frank was
compelled to reluctant acquiescence in Harley's suspicions; and he
said, with an earnest gravity very rare to him--"Believe me, Lord
L'Estrange, if I can assist you in defeating a base and mercenary
design against this poor young lady, you have but to show me how. One
thing is clear--Peschiera was not personally engaged in this abduction,
since I have been with him all day; and--now I think of it--I begin to
hope that you wrong him; for he has invited a large party of us to make
an excursion with him to Boulogne next week, in order to try his yacht;
which he could scarcely do, if--"
"Yacht, at this time of the year! a man who habitually resides at
Vienna--a yacht!"
"Spendquick sells it a bargain on account of the time of year and other
reasons; and the Count proposes to spend next summer in cruising about
the Ionian Isles. He has some property on those Isles, which he has
never yet visited."
"How long is it since he bought this yacht?"
"Why, I am not sure that it is already bought--that is, paid for.
Levy was to meet Spendquick this very morning to arrange the matter.
Spendquick complains that Levy screws him."
"My dear Mr. Hazeldean, you are guiding me through the maze. Where
shall I find Lord Spendquick?"
"At this hour, probably, in bed. Here is his card."
"Thanks. And where lies the vessel?"
"It was off Blackwall the other day. I went to see it--'The Flying
Dutchman'--a fine vessel, and carries guns."
"Enough. Now, heed me. There can be no immediate danger to Violante, so
long as Peschiera does not meet her--so long as we know his movements.
You are about to marry his sister. Avail yourself of that privilege
to keep close by his side. Refuse to be shaken off. Make what excuses
for the present your invention suggests. I will give you an excuse. Be
anxious and uneasy to know where you can find Madame di Negra."
"Madame di Negra?" cried Frank. "What of her? Is she not in
Curzon-street?"
"No; she has gone out in one of the Count's carriages. In all
probability the driver of that carriage, or some servant in attendance
on it, will come to the Count in the course of the day; and, in order
to get rid of you, the Count will tell you to see this servant, and
ascertain yourself that his sister is safe. Pretend to believe what the
man says, but make him come to your lodgings on pretense of writing
there a letter for the Marchesa. Once at your lodgings, and he will
be safe; for I shall see that the officers of justice secure him. The
moment he is there, send an express for me to my hotel."
"But," said Frank, a little bewildered, "if I go to my lodging, how can
I watch the Count?"
"It will not then be necessary. Only get him to accompany you to your
lodgings, and part with him at the door."
"Stop, stop--you can not suspect Madame di Negra of connivance in a
scheme so infamous. Pardon me, Lord L'Estrange; I can not act in this
matter--can not even hear you, except as your foe, if you insinuate a
word against the honor of the woman I love."
"Brave gentleman, your hand. It is Madame di Negra I would save, as
well as my friend's young child. Think but of her, while you act as I
intreat, and all will go well. I confide in you. Now, return to the
Count."
Frank walked back to join Peschiera, and his brow was thoughtful, and
his lips closed firmly. Harley had that gift which belongs to the
genius of Action. He inspired others with the light of his own spirit
and the force of his own will. Harley then hastened to Lord Spendquick,
remained with that young gentleman some minutes, then repaired to his
hotel, where Leonard, the Prince, and Giacomo still awaited him.
"Come with me, both of you. You, too, Giacomo. I must now see the
police. We may then divide upon separate missions."
"Oh, my dear lord," cried Leonard, "you must have had good news. You
seem cheerful and sanguine."
"_Seem!_ Nay, I _am_ so! If I once paused to despond--even to doubt--I
should go mad. A foe to baffle, and an angel to save! Whose spirits
would not rise high--whose wits would not move quick to the warm pulse
of his heart?"