‘Yes, of course,’ Nicky said, with a warning glance cast in Elinor’s direction. ‘Well, what’s the damage? It’s only a scratch, isn’t it?’
‘Ay, you were born under a lucky star, sir, as I have told you before,’ said Greenlaw, opening a case of horrid-looking instruments.
‘Yes, when I fell off the stable-roof, and broke my leg,’ said Nicky, eyeing his preparations with some misgiving. ‘What are you meaning to do to me, you murderer?’
‘I must extract the ball, Mr Nicky, and I fear I shall hurt you a trifle. Some hot water, ma’am, if I might trouble you!’
‘I have it here,’ Elinor said, picking up the brass can from before the fire, and hoping that she did not look as queasy as she was beginning to feel.
But she and Nicky alike underwent the ordeal with great fortitude, Elinor by dint of turning her eyes away from the doctor’s probing hands, and Nicky by gritting his teeth, and bracing every muscle. The doctor encouraged them both with a gentle flow of irrelevant conversation to which neither attended. Elinor was glad to discover that he was deft and quick. The ball was not deeply lodged, and was soon extracted, and the wound washed, and dressed with basilicum powder. Greenlaw bound it up comfortably, measured out a cordial, and obliged Nicky to swallow it. ‘There, you will do very well, sir!’ he said, drawing the bedclothes over his patient. ‘I shan’t bleed you.’
‘No, that you won’t!’ retorted Nicky, faint but indomitable.
‘Until to-morrow,’ finished Greenlaw grimly.
He then beckoned Elinor out of the room, gave her a few instructions, told her that as Nicky would in all probability sleep soundly now for several hours she might as well go back to her bed, and, after promising to return later in the day, took himself off. Nicky did indeed seem sleepy, so as soon as she had taken the precaution of locking the door into the room that gave access to the secret stair, Elinor retired to her own room again, and once more went to bed.
It was long before she slept, however. Setting aside his desperate behaviour, the return of her mysterious visitor most seriously alarmed her. That he did indeed want something from Highnoons was now established, and since his conduct clearly indicated that he would stop at nothing to obtain it she was unable to view with the smallest equanimity a continued sojourn in the house. The scutter of a mouse across the floor made her jump nearly out of her skin, and she was kept awake for a long time by an uncontrollable anxiety to strain her ears on the chance of catching any alien noise in the house. Her dreams, when she did at last fall asleep, were troubled, and she arose in the morning feeling very little rested, and considerably incensed with Carlyon for having placed her at Highnoons.
Nicky, whom she found sitting up in bed and partaking of a substantial breakfast, seemed to be little the worse for his adventure. Mrs Barrow had fashioned a sling for his left arm, and whenever he did not need the use of this arm he gratified her by slipping it into the sling. He too had been thinking over the night’s adventure, and he greeted Elinor with the pleasing suggestion that his assailant had been a French spy.
‘A spy!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, do not say so!’
‘Well, one of Boney’s agents,’ he amended. ‘John says he has any number of them, and we do not know them all by any means.’
‘But what should a French agent want with your cousin?’
‘I don’t know, and, to tell you the truth, I should not have thought Eustace was the kind of fellow to be of the least use to anyone,’ he replied. ‘But depend upon it, that is what it is!’ He inserted a generous portion of cold beef into his mouth, and added, somewhat thickly: ‘I dare say we have not seen the last of that fellow, not by a very long way. Why, for anything we know we have stumbled upon a really bang-up adventure!’
It was plain that he viewed the prospect with enthusiasm. Elinor could not share it. She said, with a shiver: ‘I wish you will not talk so! If it were true, only consider what might happen to us in this dreadful house!’
‘Just what I was thinking,’ nodded Nicky, spreading mustard over another portion of beef. ‘There is no saying indeed! I shall stay here.’
‘Well, I shall not!’ declared Elinor tartly. ‘I have no desire to lead a life of such adventure!’
‘You would not like to catch one of Boney’s agents?’ said Nicky incredulously.
‘Not at all. I should not know what to do with him if I did. Yes, I should, though! I should set your horrid dog to guard him!’
‘Yes, and he would do so, wouldn’t he?’ grinned Nicky. ‘Oh, Cousin Elinor, would you be so very obliging as to let the old fellow out of the stables? I told Barrow to do so, but he would not. He is a paltry creature!’
‘Will he bite me if I do?’ demanded Elinor.
‘Oh, I should not think he would do so!’ Nicky said encouragingly. ‘But pray do not let him make off! I should not like Sir Matthew’s curst keepers to shoot him.’
‘I should!’ retorted Elinor, going off to release the prisoner.
Bouncer, so far from offering to bite her, greeted her as a benefactress from whom he had been parted for years. He jumped up at her several times, barking on a high, ear-splitting note, dashed three times round the stable-yard at speed, and finally brought her an unwieldy branch of wood which he seemed to think she might like to throw for him. She declined to enter upon a sport of which, she guessed, he would not readily tire, and invited him to accompany her to the house. Picking up his branch, he trotted along beside her. He would have carried his toy into the hall had she not prevented him. Since he remained deaf to her adjurations to him to drop it, she laid hold of one end, and tried to pull it away from him. Pleased that she was ready to play a game he knew and liked, he threw himself whole-heartedly into a tug-of-war, growling in a blood-curdling way, and wagging his tail furiously. Fortunately, since Elinor was no match for him, the groom came round the corner of the house just then, and Bouncer, perceiving him, let go of the branch in order to chase him back to his proper quarters. Elinor hastily threw the branch into a thicket of brambles. Bouncer soon returned to her, prancing along in the manner of a dog who has acquitted himself well, and cocked his ears at her expectantly. He consented to accompany her into the house, but obviously thought poorly of her taste in choosing to be indoors on a fine morning. But when she took him upstairs to Nicky’s room nothing could have exceeded his joy at being reunited with the master whom he had not seen for ten hours. He leaped up on to the bed, uttering screaming barks, and ecstatically licked Nicky’s face. After that, being forcibly adjured thereto, he jumped down again, cast himself down by the fire, and lay panting.
‘What he needs, of course, is a good run,’ said Nicky, fondly regarding him.
‘Oh, yes?’ said Elinor politely.
‘I was only thinking, cousin, that if you did happen to be going out for a walk you might like to take him with you,’ he explained.
‘I know that that is what you were thinking,’ she returned. ‘I am well able to imagine what that walk would be like, I thank you!’
‘Oh, but he is quite well-behaved now!’ Nicky assured her. ‘I have very nearly trained him not to kill chickens, or chase sheep, and if only you do not meet any other dogs you will not have the least trouble with him.’
‘He has already had a very nice run, chasing the groom,’ said Elinor hard-heartedly. ‘And I do not mean to go out walking to-day.’
‘Oh, well, I dare say I shall be able to take him myself presently!’ he said.
‘You will not get up to-day!’
‘Not get up? Good God, of course I shall! There is nothing amiss with me beyond this hole in my shoulder!’
She extracted a promise that at least he would not get up until Dr Greenlaw had seen him, and went off to confer with Mrs Barrow. By the time she had emerged from the kitchen the doctor’s gig was at the door, and he was taking off his greatcoat in the hall. She was able to give him a comfort
able account of his patient, but begged him, as she led him upstairs, not to permit of Nicky’s leaving his bed that day. He said dryly that he doubted whether anyone could keep Nicky in bed if he had taken it into his head to get up.
‘I wish his brother were here!’ she said.
‘Ay, Mr Nicholas would mind him,’ he agreed.
‘I hold myself entirely to blame for what has happened!’
He looked surprised. ‘I am sure I do not know why you should, ma’am.’
She recollected that Nicky had not taken him into his confidence, and said quickly. ‘For permitting him to remain here last night, I mean!’
‘Ah, well!’ he said. ‘If it is not one thing with Mr Nick, it must needs be another! He has taken no serious hurt, ma’am.’
When he saw Nicky, he found that the wound was healing quite as well as could be expected, and that the pulse, though a little fast, was by no means tumultuous. He condemned in round terms the breakfast which he learned, upon enquiry, that Nicky had consumed, and said that he would bleed him, to be on the safe side.
‘Oh, no, you will not!’ Nicky said, drawing the bedclothes up to his chin.
‘Ay, but I will, Mr Nick,’ said Greenlaw, once more getting out his bag of instruments. ‘We do not want to run the risk of any fever.’
‘I have no fever, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you cup me!’
‘Now, sir, you know I have often done so, and you have been the better for it!’
Nicky would by no means allow it to have been so, and vociferated his protests so loudly that Bouncer sat up, bristling. He had not so far paid any heed to the doctor, with whom he was acquainted, but he now clearly perceived that his attitude was menacing, and with a growl of warning he bounded up on to the bed, and stood astride Nicky’s legs, daring Greenlaw to touch him.
Nicky gave a shout of laughter, and grasped him by the scruff of his neck. ‘Good dog, Bouncer! Sick him off, then!’
‘Very well,’ said Greenlaw, smiling reluctantly. ‘But if you are in a high fever by nightfall, do not blame me, sir!’
After this episode, Elinor was not surprised, an hour later, to encounter Nicky somewhat shakily negotiating the stairs. He was wearing a dressing-gown of such startling design and varied colour that she blinked at him. He told her that he had bought it in Oxford, and that it was all the crack. ‘Only fancy that old rascal’s wanting to bleed me!’ he said. ‘Why, I must have lost pints already, for I’m as weak as a cat!’
‘Of course you are, and you should be in bed!’ she said. ‘You must lie on the sofa in the book-room, and, mind! if you do not stay there quietly to bed you must and shall go!’
He made a face at her, but he was glad enough to stretch himself out on the sofa, and to allow her to rearrange his sling more comfortably. But he became very recalcitrant when Barrow brought in a bowl of gruel, and said that if there was any ale in the house he would like a tankard of it, with a sandwich to eat with it. These being firmly denied him, he agreed to compromise with a bowl of chicken-broth, and a glass of white wine whey. Having disposed of this light repast, he then settled down to discuss exhaustively with Elinor what ought next to be done to entrap the foe. He had not pursued the subject very far, however, when the front-door bell clanged in the distance, and Bouncer rose, growling.
Such was the irritation of nerves which Elinor laboured under that she could not repress a start, or banish from her mind the fear that whoever stood at the front door had come to the house with a fell purpose in view. Something of the same nature seemed to be in Nicky’s brain too, for he sat with his head a little tilted, listening intently. Bouncer padded over to the door, and set his nose to the crack under it, tail and hackles well up. Barrow crossed the hall in his usual leisurely fashion, and a murmur of voices sounded. Bouncer’s bristles sank, and he began to wag his trail, and to snuff loudly.
‘It’s Ned!’ exclaimed Nicky, his face lightening.
‘Oh, I do hope it is indeed!’ cried Elinor, and ran to the door, and opened it.
She would not have believed, twenty-four hours earlier, that the sight of that tall figure, in the long, many-caped driving-coat, could be so welcome to her. ‘Thank God you are come, my lord!’ she uttered, in accents of heartfelt relief. Then her eyes alighted on a little, old lady standing beside Carlyon, in an old-fashioned bonnet, and a drab pelisse over a plain, round gown and a spencer, and she cried out: ‘Becky!’ and started forward, to clasp the little lady in a warm embrace.
‘My love!’ said Miss Beccles. ‘My dear Mrs Cheviot!’
‘Oh, Becky, pray do not call me so!’ Elinor begged. She turned to Carlyon, her cheeks in a glow. ‘I had no notion you meant to bring her to me so speedily, sir! I am so very much obliged to you! Oh, dear, it makes me wish more than ever that I had not served you such a trick – ! I do not know what you will say when you hear of it, but indeed I never dreamed, when I let him stay – But do pray come into the book-room!’
He had been allowing Bouncer to tug at his gloves, but he looked up at that, his brows lifting. ‘My dear Mrs Cheviot, how can you possibly have served me a trick? Is anything amiss?’
‘Everything!’ she declared.
He maintained his usual calm, merely looking a little surprised, and saying: ‘That is certainly comprehensive. I see you have Nicky here. Yes, that will do, Bouncer! Be quiet!’
Nicky at this moment appeared in the doorway of the book-room, his left arm reposing interestingly in its sling. ‘I say, Ned, I’m devilish glad to see you!’ he remarked. ‘We have had such a lark here!’
Carlyon regarded him without betraying either dismay or astonishment. ‘Now what have you been about?’ he asked, in a resigned tone.
‘Well, I’ll tell you, but take off your coat, and come in!’
‘Very well, but make your bow to Miss Beccles. My youngest brother, ma’am.’
Miss Beccles dropped a curtsy, saying in her soft voice: ‘I am very happy to make your acquaintance, sir, but should you be standing there in the draught, do you think? Forgive me, but you do not look to me to be quite well!’
‘No, of course he should not be standing there!’ said Elinor, recalled to a sense of her responsibility. ‘He should be in bed! I wish you will go back to the sofa, Nicky! What a tiresome boy you are!’
Carlyon looked a little amused. ‘Do as you are bid, Nicky! I think Miss Beccles would be glad of a bowl of soup, Mrs Cheviot: it was cold during the drive.’
‘Oh, no!’ murmured the little lady, looking up at him gratefully. ‘I was so well wrapped up! Such a luxurious chaise, and every kind attention to my comfort!’
‘Indeed you must have some soup, and a glass of wine as well!’ Elinor said, drawing her towards the book-room. ‘Barrow, pray tell Mrs Barrow! There is the chicken-broth that was made for Mr Nick. Come in, Becky dear!’
‘By Jove, yes, she may have all my chicken-broth, and that white wine whey too!’ said Nicky generously.
Miss Beccles walked over to the sofa, and plumped up the cushions, smiling invitingly at him. He thanked her, and lay down again on it. ‘I will make you a panada presently,’ she said. ‘You will like that, sir.’
‘Shall I?’ he asked doubtfully.
‘Yes,’ she said, with gentle certainty. She looked at Elinor, and said: ‘My love, if you should desire to be private with his lordship I will go upstairs and set about unpacking my trunks.’
‘No, no, Becky, do not go! I do not mean to remain another night in this dreadful house, but since you are come to it, it is only right that you should know what manner of things happen to one here!’
‘You alarm, me, Mrs Cheviot,’ interposed Carlyon. ‘Are you going to tell me that you have indeed encountered a headless spectre?’
‘Yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘I might have known you would make light of it, sir!’
‘I may do so, perhaps, but I will enga
ge not to until I know what it is that has so much distressed you. How are you hurt, Nicky?’
‘I was shot at!’ replied Nicky impressively.
‘You were shot at!’
‘Yes, but the ball only lodged in my shoulder, and Greenlaw soon dug it out.’
‘But who shot at you, and why?’
‘That’s just it, Ned! We haven’t a notion who it was! It is the most famous affair, and only think! if I had not been sent down it would not have happened, and we might never have known anything about it!’
‘I think,’ said Carlyon, ‘that you had better tell me this story from the start, if I am to understand it.’
‘Well, the start of it was Cousin Elinor’s part of the adventure. I was not here. Tell him how it all began, cousin!’
‘Yes, pray do!’ said Carlyon, walking over to the fire, and standing with his back to it. ‘I am happy, at all events, to discover that you are so far reconciled to your lot, ma’am, as to accept the – er – relationship that exists between us.’
She was obliged to smile. ‘Well, I had rather be called by almost any other name than Cheviot!’ she said.
‘I will bear it in mind. Now, what has been the matter here?’
Beginning to feel, quite irrationally, that she had been making a mountain out of a molehill, she described as briefly as she could her encounter with the young Frenchman. He heard her in attentive silence. Miss Beccles quietly removed her bonnet and pelisse, and sat down in a chair with her hands placidly folded in her lap.
‘You say he was young, and dark, and spoke with only a slight accent, ma’am?’
She agreed to it, adding that the Frenchman was of medium height and slim build, and wore neat side-whiskers.
Carlyon opened his snuff-box, and took a meditative pinch. ‘Then I fancy he must have been young De Castres,’ he said.
Nicky sat up. ‘What, Louis De Castres?’ he exclaimed. ‘But, Ned, he is quite the thing! Why, you may meet him everywhere!’
‘Very true. Mrs Cheviot seems even to have met him here.’
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