The Master of the Ceremonies Part 113

"Don't you fidget yourself about that, young man," said Mrs Barclay with quite a snort. "Your dear sister's too proud for any jack-a-dandy fellow to win her heart."

"You're a good woman," said Fred softly. "I'm not much account as a man, but I know a good woman when I meet one, and I wish I'd had such a one as you by me when I was a boy. If I had, I shouldn't have been a common soldier now. Good-bye, ma'am; good-bye, sir. Heaven bless you both."

He hurried out, afraid of showing his emotion, and Mrs Barclay turned round wiping her eyes.

"There, Jo-si-ah, you see everybody don't think ill of us, bad as we are."

"Humph! no," said Barclay thoughtfully; "but I don't understand that chap--he's so strange. Why, surely, old girl, he had no hand in that murder."

"Lor'! Jo-si-ah, don't! You give me the creeps all over. I do wish you wouldn't think about murders and that sort of thing. You give me quite a turn. I wouldn't have my dear Claire hear you for the world."

"All right! I won't say anything before her; but this young chap has set me thinking; he seemed so strange."

Other people thought Fred Denville strange, notably Major Rockley, who, in company with Sir Matthew Bray and Sir Harry Payne, was on the Parade, as, with brows knit and eyes bent down, the dragoon came along, walking swiftly.

The three officers were in undress uniform, having just left parade, and each carried his riding-whip.

Fred did not notice them, he was too deep in thought, and walking straight on he went right between them, unintentionally giving Sir Matthew Bray a rough thrust with his shoulder, for of course an officer could not give way to a private.

It was Fred Denville's duty, in the character of James Bell, private dragoon, to have saluted his officers and given them all the path, if necessary; but at that moment he could see nothing but the grey white-faced old man in the cell at the gaol, in peril of his life and threatened with a felon's death.

"I must have been drunk," he was muttering to himself. "Yes: I remember, I was horribly drunk that night, and didn't know what I was doing. Poor old father! with all your faults you did not deserve this.

Yes: I must have been drunk."

At this point he was brought from his musings to the present by a stinging cut from a riding-whip across the back, his tight uniform being so little protection that the sharp whalebone seemed to divide the flesh.

With a cry of rage he turned round, and flung out his fist, striking Sir Harry Payne, who had given the blow with the whip, full on the nose, and sending him backwards.

"You insolent dog!"

"You scoundrel!"

The epithets were delivered in a breath by Major Rockley and Sir Matthew Bray, just as Lord Carboro' approached, walking by Lady Drelincourt's bath-chair.

It was an opportunity for showing how an insolent drunken private should be treated; and as several loungers of society were coming up, the two officers accompanied their words with a couple of blows from their whips.

It is dangerous to play with edged tools, is proverbially said; and, in his then frame of mind, Fred Denville felt no longer that he was James Bell, the disciplined, kept-down servant and private. He felt as a man smarting from the blows he had received. The service, the penalty for striking an officer, were as nothing to him then; he saw only the big, pompous, insolent bully of his regiment, Sir Matthew Bray, and the man who had insulted him a thousand times, which he could have forgiven, and his sister again and again, which he could not forgive.

With one bound he was upon Sir Matthew Bray, whom he struck full in the chest, so that he staggered back, tripped his heels on the front wheel of Lady Drelincourt's bath-chair, and fell heavily into the road.

With another bound he was upon Rockley, who had followed and struck him again a sharp, stinging cut.

There was a momentary struggle, and then the whip was twisted out of Rockley's hand, his wrist half dislocated, and for a couple of minutes the thin scourge hissed and whistled through the air as, half mad with rage, Fred lashed the Major across shoulders, back, and legs, and finally dashed him down with a parting cut across the face.

"That for you, you horsewhipped cur and scoundrel! You disgrace the uniform you wear!"

There was a little crowd gathering, but only one man dared to seize upon the fierce-looking dragoon, and that one was Lord Carboro'.

"Loose my arm," roared Fred, turning upon him with uplifted whip; but, as he saw who held him, and that Bray and Payne were holding aloof, and helping Rockley to rise, he lowered his whip. "Loose my arm, my lord; you're an old man, I can't strive with you."

"You rascal! You have struck your superior officers."

"Superior!" raged out Fred. "I have horsewhipped a vile _roue_ for the blow he struck me, and ten times as much for--Keep off!" he roared, as Colonel Mellersh and Linnell joined the group.

"I shall hold you till a picket comes from the barracks, sir, to take you in arrest," cried Lord Carboro' sternly.

Fred Denville did not attempt to wrest his arm away, but smiled half contemptuously at the padded, made-up old n.o.bleman, and gave the whip a lash through the air as he stared hard at Rockley, who was white with rage, but talked to him who held his arm.

"Look here, my lord," he said, "is it amongst your set a social sin for a man to horsewhip the blackguard who insults his sister?"

"No," said Lord Carboro' stoutly; "but you have struck your superior officer."

"I have thrashed the scoundrel who would have dragged my sister in the mire could he have had his way. It was my last act as a free man, and thank G.o.d I have had the chance."

"James Bell," cried Sir Matthew Bray, "I arrest you. Give up that whip."

"Touch me if you dare," roared Fred. "Stand back, or I'll kill you."

"Private Bell--"

"d.a.m.n Private Bell!" cried the young man fiercely. "My name is Frederick Denville, and I am a gentleman."

Lord Carboro's hand dropped to his side, and as the young man faced him for a moment, it was anything but anger that flashed from the old n.o.bleman's eyes as he muttered to himself:

"Damme, so he is; and he has Claire's very look."

Fred Denville strode right away along the Parade, followed at a distance by Linnell and Mellersh, till, to their surprise, they saw him enter their door, no attempt being made to arrest him then.

Volume Three, Chapter XVII.

"SURRENDER!"

"No, Mr Denville, I am a soldier, and yours is a terrible crime against discipline, but I can't say a word in condemnation of your act."

"Thank you, Colonel. Will you give me a few words here with Mr Linnell?"

"Yes; but I should advise you to be quick," said Mellersh. "Hang it, man, they'll shoot you for this. What's to be done, d.i.c.k? Look here, Denville, can't you knock one of us down, take a suit of plain clothes and make off. There's twenty pounds on the chimney-piece yonder."

"Thank you, sir, thank you," said Fred, smiling sadly; "but I'm not going to run. I shall give myself up."

"No, no," cried Linnell excitedly. "For heaven's sake don't do that, man. There's trouble enough in your home. You'll break her heart."

Fred Denville swung round in an instant, and caught Linnell's hands in a strong grip.

"Then you do love her," he cried, his voice quivering. "My little true-hearted, suffering darling. Oh, man, man, man, don't let wretched shadows stand between you now. I know everything, and how you have been ready to believe all kinds of unhappy scandals about the best girl who ever lived. Look here--no, don't go, Colonel; you've heard the beginning, you may as well hear the rest. It came out like a flash.

Stop now, and hear me, both of you. Ours is an unhappy family; I've been a wild, foolish scamp: my father lies in prison under a false charge; he is innocent. I know that such a family is not one that a gentleman would seek to enter, save under exceptional circ.u.mstances; but I've watched you, Richard Linnell, and I know you loved my sister, and I know that she never had a thought save for you."

Linnell clenched his hands, compressed his lips, and began to pace the room.