reach the group,Sir Harry Payne, by a brutal exercise of his strength, swung Claire awayfrom her sister; and as she staggered on the turf she would have fallenbut for the quick way in which Richard Linnell caught her in his arms.
She clung to him wildly, as she strove to recover herself.
"Help! Mr Linnell! Quick! my sister!" she panted, as Sir Harry Paynehurriedly threw open the door of the chaise.
"In with you--no nonsense, now," he cried to May. "Be ready, my lads--gallop hard. I'll pay!"
He was leaning towards the postboys as he spoke, but as the words lefthis lips they were half drowned by a piercing shriek that rang out uponthe night, sending a thrill through every bystander. It was nohysterical cry, but the agony and dread-born appeal for aid from one inmortal peril.
Sir Harry held the door open, and stood as if paralysed by the cry, foras if instantaneously, a dark lithe figure had glided out from beneaththe chaise, caught May's arm, and, as the word "_Perfida_!" seemedhissed in her ear, there was a flash as of steel, and a sharp blow wasdelivered like lightning, twice over.
"Curse you!" cried Sir Harry. "Cowardly dog!" He seized May'sassailant by the throat, but only to utter a low cry of pain, andstagger back from the effect of the heavy blow he received in theshoulder.
To the startled spectators at hand it was all like some scene in thehalf-light of a drama. No sooner had the dark figure rid himself ofPayne than he glided rapidly beneath the chaise again, and before thosewho ran up to arrest him could reach the farther side of the vehicle, hehad darted into the wood and was gone. Just then a voice cried: "Help!for heaven's sake, or she'll bleed to death."
Volume Three, Chapter VII.
"TOO LATE! TOO LATE!"
The words uttered by the first to run to May Burnett's help seemed toparalyse the party instead of evoking aid, while in the horror andconfusion there was no attempt made to pursue, so stunned were all bythe rapidity with which one event had succeeded the other.
Lord Carboro' was the first to recover himself.
"This is no place for you, Miss Denville," he said. "Will you placeyourself under my protection? Or, no," he added hastily; "Mr Barclay,take Miss Denville home."
Barclay took a step towards Claire, who stood as if turned to stone,staring wildly at where her sister lay upon the turf, with Mellershkneeling beside her, while Sir Harry Payne also lay without motion.
"Who was that man who struck Mrs Burnett?" said Lord Carboro' sharply,but no one answered. "Mr Burnett," he continued to that individual, ashe stood aloof looking on, but speechless with mortification and rage."Will no one speak? Who is this? You, Mellersh?"
"Yes," was the reply, in a low, pained voice. "This is a terriblebusiness, Lord Carboro'."
"It generally is when a lady tries to elope and is stopped. Curse me,though, what a coward that Burnett was to set some one to strike her."
"Did he?" said Mellersh, in a curious tone.
"Yes; didn't you see? Is she fainting?"
"Yes," said Mellersh. "Here, Linnell, help Miss Denville into thechaise, and she can support her sister."
"No; I forbid it," cried Lord Carboro' sharply. "I--"
"Hush, my lord!" whispered Mellersh. "Do you not see? The wretchedwoman is stabbed."
"Stabbed!"
"Claire! Claire! Help! Claire!" wailed May faintly. At her sister'swild cry a spasm seemed to shoot through Claire's frame, and she wrestedherself from Linnell, and threw herself beside the wretched little womanwhere she lay.
"May--sister," she whispered.
"Take me--take me home," said May, in a feeble, piteous voice. "Did yousee him? I was frightened. I was going and he--he stabbed me."
"Help! A doctor! For heaven's sake, help!" cried Claire. "May, May,speak to me--dear sister."
She raised the frail little figure in her arms as she spoke, till thepretty baby head rested upon her bosom, and Linnell shuddered as, in thedim light, he saw the stains that marked her dress and Claire's hands.
"Miss Denville," he whispered, "let Colonel Mellersh place her in thechaise. She must be got home at once."
"Yes," said Mellersh solemnly. "I can do no more."
As he spoke he gave a final knot to the handkerchief with which he hadbound the slight little arm.
"Who did this?" cried Lord Carboro' quickly. "Mr Burnett, do youknow?"
Burnett did not speak, and the answer came from May, in a feeble, dreamyvoice.
"It was poor Louis," she said. "I saw him this evening--watching me--hemust have followed. Ah!"
"Quick! Get in first, Miss Denville," cried Mellersh. "Draw her away,Dick, for God's sake! The poor little thing will bleed to death. Goodheavens!"
The last words were uttered in a low tone, as from out of the darkness atall gaunt figure staggered up and sank down beside the injured girl.
"Too late! Too late! May! my child! Blood! She is dead--my darling.She is dead!"
"Hush, sir! She has fainted," cried Linnell. "Mr Denville! Forheaven's sake, sir, be firm. Command yourself. A terrible mishap.Mrs Burnett must be got back to the town at once. Can you act calmly?"
"Certainly. I'll try," groaned the Master of the Ceremonies; and then,"Too late--too late!"
He rose, holding one little hand in his as Claire tottered into thecarriage, and May was lifted to her side.
"Now, Mr Denville. In--quick!" cried Linnell. "Straight home. Thepostboys shall warn a doctor as they pass."
The door was banged to, the orders given, and the next minute the horseswere going at a canter, on no flight to London, but back to the Parade.
Richard Linnell stood gazing after the departing post-chaise for a fewmoments, to start as a hand was placed upon his shoulder.
"Is she hurt badly, Mellersh?" he whispered.
"Badly? Yes," was the reply. "I'm afraid it is the last ride she willtake--but one."
"For heaven's sake, gentlemen, lend a hand here," cried Lord Carboro'impatiently; and they turned to where Barclay was now kneeling by SirHarry Payne, that worthy having just struggled back from a fit offainting.
"Cursed cowardly blow," he said in a shrill voice. "Who was it--Burnett? Why couldn't he call me out?"
"Don't talk, man," cried Lord Carboro'. "Here, Mellersh, the fellow'sbleeding like a pig."
"Am I?" cried Sir Harry faintly. "Damn it. A surgeon. Thepost-chaise."
"A knife," said Mellersh shortly, as he made as rapid an examination ashe could in the darkness.
A pocket-knife was handed to him by Barclay, and he ripped up the coatand threw it aside.
"Is--is it dangerous?" faltered Sir Harry.
"Dangerous enough for you to be more silent," said Mellersh. "Anotherhandkerchief, please. That'll do. Yes. I'll use both. There, SirHarry," he said, as he bound up the prostrate man's arm, "we are only amile from the barracks. You must contrive to walk."
"Sick as a dog," muttered Sir Harry; but he struggled to his feet with alittle help. "Don't--don't let that little beast Burnett come near me.Mellersh, your arm."
There was no need for his desire to be attended to, for Burnett hadstood looking on for a few minutes, and then gone off, to be slowlyfollowed by the others, the wounded man being compelled by faintness tohalt from time to time till the barrack gate was reached.
Half an hour later Lord Carboro' was in consultation with Barclay,Mellersh, and Linnell outside the Denvilles' house.
"Gravani?" said Lord Carboro', "to be sure--Louis Gravani. I gave himsome painting to do when he was here. Italian--and the knife--a formerlover, of course?"
"Mrs Barclay tells me, my lord," said Barclay, gravely, "that he wasreally Mrs Burnett's husband."
"Dick," said Mellersh, as they were walking slowly back, "of what areyou thinking?"
"Of Claire."
Mellersh said no more, but when they reached home sat musing over thefact that there was a light in Cora's window, and that she was lookingout. But it was not for him.
Volume T
hree, Chapter VIII.
THE FRIEND IN NEED.
There was quite a meeting at little Miss Clode's the next morning, aftera heavy storm that had set in during the night; but, though the ordinaryatmosphere was fresh, clear, cool and bright after the heavy rain, thesocial atmosphere grew more dense and lurid, hour by hour, as thecallers rolled the news snow-ball on till Annie Clode's eyes looked asif they would never close
The Master of the Ceremonies Page 70