The Master of the Ceremonies

by George Manville Fenn

alarm as Barclay dashed to the fireplace, and caughtup the poker, before running towards the door.

  "Jo-si-ah!" she cried, catching his arm.

  "Just got away in time, a scoundrel--and before my very face! Yousuffered it, too, madam."

  "Oh--oh--oh--oh!" sobbed Mrs Barclay hysterically, as she took thepoker away, and replaced it in the fender before throwing herself on herhusband's breast. "My own dear old man! I won't ever say a word againabout money. The best and dearest fellow that ever lived!"

  Barclay drew her close to him and played the elderly lover verypleasantly and well, leading his plump wife to a sofa, and sitting downby her with her head resting upon his shoulder.

  "Hush, old lady, don't cry so," he whispered. "What's the good ofhaving money if you don't try and do some good with it? I like littleClaire; she's about as near an angel as we find them in Saltinville; andas for poor old Denville, he has been the most unlucky of men. He's nota bad fellow at heart, and as for that affair about old Lady Teigne--well, there's no knowing what a man may do when tempted by poverty andwith a lot of jewels twinkling before his eyes."

  "Oh, hush, Jo-si-ah, you don't think--you can't think--"

  "Hush, old girl! we must not think it of him aloud. We must get himoff, but I'm very much afraid."

  "Oh, Jo-si-ah, don't say it, dear."

  "Only to you, my gal. I'm afraid the poor old fellow was trying to--well, say borrow a few diamonds, and what happened afterwards was anaccident."

  "Oh, my dear! my dear!"

  "It looks sadly like it."

  "But this Fred Denville says he did it."

  "Yes, poor lad, to get clear of his officers, and to save his father'slife. That will go for nothing. Soldiers often charge themselves withcrimes to get out of the army. That story will never be believed."

  Morton Denville shivered as he approached the prison, and felt halfdisposed to turn back as he encountered a couple of men of his regiment;but he mastered his nervousness and walked boldly up to the gate and wasadmitted.

  He found his father in much the same despondent attitude as he hadoccupied when Fred Denville came to the prison, and Morton stood withhis lip quivering and breast heaving, looking down for some minutes atthe wasted form.

  "Father," he said at last, but there was no reply, and when the lad wentand laid a hand upon his shoulder, the old man did not start, but raisedhis head in a dazed manner, as if he did not quite realise who it was.

  Then, recognising him, he rose from his stool, smiling sadly.

  "You, Morton!" he said. "You have come!"

  Morton did not answer for a few moments, struggling as he was withintense emotion, and the Master of the Ceremonies looked at him keenlynow. His face changed directly, though, as Morton threw his arms roundhim and stood with his head bowed down upon the old man's shoulder.

  "I'm glad: very glad. Egad, Morton, my son," said Denville, trying toassume his old parade manner, but with his piping voice quavering, andsounding forced and strained, "you make me feel very proud of you. Itis, of course--yes, egad--of course--a very painful thing for agentleman--an officer--to have to visit--a relative in prison--a mansituated as I am--to a man in your position, it is a terrible thing--and--and you'll pardon me--my son--I could not have felt--er--surprisedif you had--stayed away; but--but--you have come; and--God bless you, myboy--my boy."

  The old man would have sunk upon his seat quivering with emotion, butMorton held him in his clasp.

  "No, no, father," he said with spirit, "you must not give way. We mustmeet this trouble like men. You must advise with me. I've been playingthe boy too long. There, sit down and let's talk. What shall I doabout your trial?"

  Denville took his son's hand, and looked at him proudly, but he shookhis head.

  "What do you mean, father?" cried Morton, the lad flushing and lookingmanly as he spoke. "This is no time for indecision. I have seen MrBarclay and Mr Linnell. They have engaged counsel, and what we wantnow is your help over your defence."

  Denville smiled sadly, and again shook his head,

  "No, my boy, no," he said, "you can do nothing. It is very brave andtrue of you."

  "But, father--"

  "Hush, my son! Let me speak and act as my knowledge and experiencedictate. I am glad you have come, for you have been much in my mind;and I want to get you as free as I can from this horrible disgrace."

  "My dear old father, don't think of me," pleaded Morton, "but ofyourself."

  "Of myself, my boy? No, I am only an old worn-out stock, and I am quiteresigned to my fate--to my duty. I am old; you are young. There isyour future to think of, and your sister's. Look here--"

  "But, my dear father," cried Morton, "I must insist. I am only a mereboy, I know, but I am forced to take command."

  "Not yet, Morton; I have not resigned. You'll pardon me, my son--wounded, but not unfit to command--as yet. Morton, my boy, LordCarboro' has always been my friend. Go to him, my son, and ask him touse his influence to get you an exchange into some other regiment. Tryforeign service, my boy, for a few years. It will be taking you clearof the stain upon our name. Claire has friends, I have no fear forher--good, true woman. It is about you I am concerned. You mustexchange and get right away from here. Go at once. Carboro' will seethe necessity, and advise and help you."

  "And leave you here in prison--in peril of your life; charged with acrime you did not commit? Father, you don't know me yet."

  The old man's lip quivered, and he grasped his son's hand firmly.

  "It is my wish, my boy. For your sake and for your sister's," he saidfirmly. "You must go at once."

  "And leave you here--like this, father?"

  "Yes, my boy--it is my fate," said the old man sadly. "I can bear it.You must go."

  "And leave Fred in his trouble?"

  "Silence! Don't name him. Don't let me hear his name again," said theold man, firing up.

  But it was only a flash of the old fire which died out at once, and hegrew pale and weak again, his head sinking upon his breast.

  "Father!" cried Morton, "I can't bear this. You are too bitter againstpoor Fred, and it seems doubly hard now."

  "Hush! Say no more, my boy. You do not know," cried the old manangrily. "You do not know."

  "It is you who do not know, father. You have not heard that he has beenshot down."

  "Fred--my son--shot?"

  "Yes, while attempting to escape from arrest, father. He is dangerouslywounded. Forgive me for telling you at such a time, but you seem sohard upon him."

  "Hard, my boy? You do not know."

  "I know he is dangerously wounded, and that he is your son."

  "My God!" muttered Denville, with his lip quivering--"a judgment--ajudgment upon him for his crime."

  "And that in his misery and pain he raised his voice bravely to try andsave you, father, by charging himself with the murder of Lady Teigne."

  "What?" cried the old man excitedly. "Fred--my son--charged himselfwith this crime?"

  "Yes; he boldly avowed himself as the murderer."

  "Where--where is he?" cried Denville excitedly.

  "In the infirmary; weak with his wound. Father, you will forgive thepast, and try to be friends with him when--when you meet again."

  The Master of the Ceremonies looked up sadly in his son's face and bowedhis head slowly.

  "Yes," he said sadly; "I will try--when we meet again. But tell me, myboy," he cried agitatedly; "they do not believe what he says--this--thischarge against himself?"

  "No; they look upon it as what it is--a brave piece of self-denial tosave his father from this terrible position. Oh, father! you did notthink he could be so staunch and true."

  "They don't believe it," muttered Denville. "No; they would not. Itdoes not alter the situation in the least. I shall suffer, and he willbe set free."

  "You shall not suffer, father," cried Morton impetuously. "Surely thereis justice to be had in England. No, I will not have you give way
inthis weak, imbecile manner. There: no more now; I must go, and I shallconsult with your friends."

  "No; I forbid it," cried the old man sternly. "You will not bedisobedient to me now that I am helpless, Morton, my son. You cannotsee it all as I see it."

  "No, father; I hope I see it more clearly."

  "Rash boy! you are blind, while it is my eyes that are opened. Morton,one of us must die for this crime. I tell you I could not live,