His Lordship's Leopard Part 26

"It is. The boss is going to bolt."

"Who? The Bishop?"

"That's it! Him and the lady."

"What lady?"

"The young 'un, I guess."

"What's all this stuff about?" demanded Marchmont.

"It ain't stuff, as you'll soon see," replied the tramp in an aggrieved tone. "There was a yacht come into Dullhampton last night, a nasty-lookin' boat and a quick steamer. The second mate and me, we got to know each other up to the inn--he's a furriner, he is--a Don, more'n likely. But he let on, havin' had some drink, as how he'd been sent there with the yacht to wait for the Bishop o' Blanford and a lady as was comin' down next day, and the Bishop was to give the sailin'

orders."

"Humph! What more?"

"This mornin' I seed 'em lookin' over a lot of flags on the deck of the yacht, and one of 'em was Spanish."

"So you came all the way up here to tell me this c.o.c.k-and-bull story!"

"Not till I'd squared the crew."

"Squared the crew?"

"I let on to 'em as how they'd been s.h.i.+pped under false orders to carry two Spanish spies out of the country, an' how we was on to the fact, and if they'd stay by us they'd not be held responsible; and I promised 'em ten s.h.i.+llin's apiece and give 'em all the drink they wanted, and they're ours to a man."

"And that's where you've wasted good money and good liquor. I tell you what you say is impossible. If the Bishop had had any idea of a move like that, I'd have got wind of it. Besides, his old cat of a sister would never let him leave Blanford again without her."

"Hist!" said the tramp, pointing across the lawn. "Look there, what did I say? My eyesight ain't what it was, from breakin' stones up to Sing Sing, and I can't see no faces at this distance, but there's somethin'

sneakin' along there, in bishop's togs."

Marchmont followed the direction he indicated, and saw two figures stealing round the corner of the palace, carrying hand-bags and showing every sign of watchfulness and suspicion. Having ascertained that the lawn was clear, they slipped rapidly across it, and, putting themselves in the protecting shade of a clump of bushes, turned into the high-road and disappeared. It had needed no second glance to identify them as his Lords.h.i.+p and Miss Arminster.

"By Jove!" gasped the journalist. "It is true, then! This will be a scoop of scoops! Come, we've got to run for it. We must take the same train, and they mustn't see us."

Some one else had witnessed the departure, in spite of all the precautions of the fugitives, and that person was Miss Matilda, who, from the vantage of an upper window, caught a glimpse of them just as they disappeared through the gate. Unwilling at first to believe her senses, she rushed to her brother's room and then to Miss Arminster's.

Alas! in each apartment the traces of hasty packing and missing hand-luggage gave d.a.m.ning evidence of the fact. She rushed downstairs, bursting with her dreadful intelligence. In the hall she met Cecil, delightedly waving a telegram in his hand.

"Hurrah! Aunt Matilda!" he shouted. "Such news! 'The Purple Kangaroo'

has reached its twentieth edition, and a truce is declared between the United States and Spain! Where are the others? I must tell them that the war is over."

"Bother your war!" exclaimed his aunt. "Do you know that your father and that shameless minx, Miss Arminster, have just eloped?"

CHAPTER IV.

IN WHICH THE BISHOP IS ABDUCTED.

All the way from Blanford to Dullhampton the Bishop was in the best of spirits, much on the principle of a naughty boy who, having played truant, means to enjoy his holiday to the full, well knowing that he will be caned when it is over. Indeed his Lords.h.i.+p became positively skittish, and Miss Arminster was obliged to squelch him a little, as that young lady, for excellent reasons of her own, had no more intention of becoming the mistress of Blanford than she had of wedding the author of "The Purple Kangaroo." On the other hand, she realised that it was one of the old gentleman's very rare treats, and she wanted him to have as good a time as possible; besides which, she had always longed to take a cruise on a steam-yacht, and now her ambition was about to be gratified.

The shock of disappointment was therefore all the greater when, on their arrival at Dullhampton, they were met by the captain, who informed them that Lord Downton had had a bad fall the day before and seriously sprained his ankle, so that the party had been given up. He had sent the yacht on, however, with the request that the Bishop would consider it at his disposal for the remainder of the week.

"Now that's exceedingly awkward," said his Lords.h.i.+p. "I fear we can hardly go yachting without a chaperon."

"Most certainly not," agreed Miss Arminster. "But let's take a little sail this afternoon, and return to Blanford in time for dinner."

"That's very well thought of," said the Bishop, "and to-morrow we can bring down some more of our party. It seems a pity we shouldn't use the yacht, now we're here. Does that arrangement meet with your approval, captain?"

"Well, your Lords.h.i.+p," replied the captain, "to be honest with you, I hadn't expected as how you'd be able to get away to-day, so I'd arranged to see my sister, who lives here, this afternoon, and the first mate's gone up to town to order some stores. But if you are only to be out for a few hours, as you say, my second mate's quite capable of taking the boat for you. I wouldn't like to trust him on a long cruise, for he's only joined a few weeks, and I know nothing about his character. He is a first-cla.s.s navigator, however, and for an afternoon in the Solent he'll do you very well."

"I'm sure we would not want to interfere with your plans, captain," said his Lords.h.i.+p, "so if Miss Arminster agrees--"

"Oh my, yes," acquiesced Violet. "I don't care who takes the yacht out, so long as we go."

"Right you are," said the captain. "Steam's up, and I've ordered lunch on board, as I thought you'd want that anyway. I'll tell Funk, the second mate, to run out into the Solent, and then you can give your own orders. What time will you be back?"

"Oh, not later than six," replied the Bishop, as they stepped on board Lord Downton's beautiful craft, the "Homing Pigeon."

She was a large boat and thoroughly seaworthy. Indeed her owner had made a voyage in her to the Mediterranean, but she was built for speed also, and decidedly rakish in cut.

They were at once introduced to the second mate, and Miss Arminster thought she had seldom seen a more unprepossessing individual. He was surly and s.h.i.+fty-eyed, and she confided to the Bishop, when they were alone, that she was glad they were not going far from land under that man's charge, for he looked like a pirate.

After glancing round the deck, which seemed charmingly arranged, they at once descended to the cabin for lunch, for their little journey had made them hungry. Here the captain left them with a few courteous words of excuse. A moment later, as he was leaving the s.h.i.+p, he met two strangers coming on board, laden with hand-baggage. They were, though unknown to him, the journalist and the tramp. On asking them sharply what their business was, Marchmont replied very glibly that he was his Lords.h.i.+p's valet, and that he had hired this man to bring down the luggage from the station.

"I don't think your master'll need his traps, as he's only going out for the afternoon," said the captain. "But you'd better take them down to the cabin, and see the porter gets off before they start. I don't allow strangers aboard."

The valet touched his hat respectfully, and went up the gangway, followed by the obsequious porter. A moment later they reached the deck, and no sooner had the captain disappeared round a corner than both men approached the second mate, with whom they had a hurried and earnest conversation, followed by an interchange of something which that officer transferred to his trousers-pocket and jingled appreciatively.

The ropes were now cast off, and they got under way, while Marchmont stole very quietly to the door of the hatchway which led down to the saloon where the Bishop and the actress were unsuspectingly lunching, and softly turned the key.

"Mayn't I cut you a slice of this cold ham, my dear?" asked the Bishop in his most fatherly tones.

"Not while the pigeon-pie lasts," said his fair companion. "But you may give me a gla.s.s of champagne, if you will. I see some going to waste in an ice-cooler over there in the corner."

"I was hoping the steward would come," ventured his Lords.h.i.+p.

"Well, I hope he won't. Being tete-a-tete is much more fun, don't you think? Give the bottle to me, and I'll show you how to open it and not spill a drop. In some respects your education's been neglected."

"I'm afraid it has," admitted the Bishop, a.s.sisting her with his pen-knife.

His Lords.h.i.+p felt recklessly jovial. To lunch alone with a young lady who opened champagne with a dexterity that bespoke considerable practice must be very wicked, he felt certain, and he was shocked to realise that he didn't care if it was. His years of repression were beginning to find their outlet in a natural reaction.

"Here, have a gla.s.s of champagne, and don't think about your shortcomings," she said.

"That's very nice," he replied, just tasting it.