Prologue of Black Moth by George E. Tyre. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Clad in his customary black and silver, with raven hair unpowdered and elaborately dressed, diamonds on his fingers and in his cravat, Hugh Tracy Claire Belmanois, Duke of Andover, sat at the Esquichois in the library of his townhouse writing. He wore no rouge on his face, the almost unnatural pallor of which seemed designally enhanced by a patch set beneath his right eye. Brows and lashes were black, the former slanting slightly up at the corners, but his narrow, heavy-lidded eyes were green and strangely piercing. The thin lips curled a little, sneering, as one dead white hand traveled to and fro across the paper. But it seems that the fair lady has a brother, who, finding me enamored, threw down the gauntlet. I soundly whipped the presumptuous child, and so the affair ends. Now, as you, my dear Frank, also took some interest in the lady, I write for the express purpose of informing you that, at my hands, she has received no hurt, nor is not like to. This I impart tell you, that you shall not imagine yourself in honour bound again to call me out. Which purpose, and I mistake not, I yesterday read in your eyes. I should be exceedingly lulled to meet you a second time, when I should consider it my duty to teach you an even severer lesson than before. This I am not wishful of doing, for the liking I bear you. So in all friendship, believe me, Frank, your most obedient, humble, devil. His grace of hand over paused, pen held in mid-air. A mocking smile dawned in his eyes, and he wrote again. In the event of any desire on your part to hazard your luck with my late paramour, permit me to warn you against the Bantam brother, who is, in very truth, a fire-eater, and would wish to make of you as of me one mouthful. I shall hope to see you at the Queensbury route on Thursday, when you may once more strive to direct my nearing footsteps on to the thorny path of virtue. His grace read the post-grip through with another satisfied, sardonic smile. Then he folded the letter, and, affixing a wafer, peremptorily struck the hand-bell at his side. And the honourable Frank Fortescue, reading the post-grip half an hour later, smiled too, but differently. Also he sighed and put the letter into the fire. And so ends another affair. I wonder if you'll go insolently to the very end, he said softly, watching the paper shrivel and flare up. I would to God you might fall honestly in love, and that the lady might save you from yourself, my poor devil. End of the Prologue Read by Cibela Denton For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org Chapter 2 At the Checkers Inn, Fallowfield, Part 1 of Black Moth by George Ed Hire Read for Librivox.org into the public domain Mr. Chadbur was the name of the host, florid of countenance, portly of person, and of manor, pompous, and urbane. Solely within the walls of the Checkers lay his world, that inn having been acquired by his great-grandfather as far back as the year 1667, when the jovial Stuart King sat on the English throne, and the Hanoverian electors were not yet dreamed of. A Tory was Mr. Chadbur to the backbone. None so bitter against the little German as he, and surely none had looked forward, more eagerly, to the advent of the gallant Charles Edward. If he confined his patriotism to drinking success to Prince Charlie's campaign, who shall blame him? And if, when Sundry Whig gentlemen halted at the Checkers on their way to the coast, and, calling for a bottle of renish, bad him tossed down a glass himself with health to his majesty, again, who shall blame Mr. Chadbur for obeying? What was a health one way or another when you had rendered active service to two of his Stuart Highness's adherents? It was Mr. Chadbur's boast, uttered only to his admiring Tory neighbors, that he had, at the risk of his own life, given shelter to two fugitives of the disastrous forty-five, who had come so far out of their way as quiet Fallowfield. That no one had set eyes on either of the men was no reason for doubting an honest landlord's word. But no one would have thought of doubting any statement that Mr. Chadbur might make. My host of the Checkers was a great personage in the town, being able both to read and to write, and having once, when young, traveled as far north as Lundantown, staying there for ten days and setting eyes on no less a person than the great Duke of Marlboro himself, when that gentleman was riding along the strand on his way to St. James's. Also, it was a not-to-be-ignored fact that Mr. Chadbur's home-brewed ale was far superior to that sold by the landlord of the rival inn at the other end of the village. All together he was a most important character, and no one was more aware of his importance than his worthy self. To gentleman-born, whom he protested, could distinguish at a glance, he was almost obsequiously polite. But on clerks and underlings, and men who bore no signs of affluence about their persons, he wasted none of his deference. Thus it was that, when a little green clad lawyer alighted one day from the mail-coach, and entered the coffee-room at the checkers, he was received with pomposity and scarcely veiled condescension. He was nervous, it seemed, and more than a little worried. He offended Mr. Chadbur at the outset, when he insinuated that he was come to meet a gentleman who might perhaps be rather shabbily clothed, rather short of purse, and even of rather unsavory repute. Very severely did Mr. Chadbur give him to understand that guests of that description were entirely unknown at the checkers. There was an air of mystery about the lawyer, and it appeared almost as though he was driving to probe, my host. Mr. Chadbur bridled a little, and became aloof and haughty. When the lawyer dared openly to ask if he had had any dealings with highlymen of late, he was very properly and thoroughly affronted. The lawyer became suddenly more at ease. He eyed Mr. Chadbur speculatively, holding a pinch of snuff to one thin nostril. "'Perhaps you have staying here a certain—uh—Sir—Anthony Ferndale?' he hazarded. The gentle air of injury fell it from Mr. Chadbur. Certainly he had, and come only yesterday a purpose to meet his illicitor. The lawyer nodded. "'I am he. Be so good as to apprise Sir Anthony of my arrival.' Mr. Chadbur bowed exceedingly low, and implored the lawyer not to remain in the drafty coffee-room. Sir Anthony would never forgive him, and he allowed his illicitor to await him there. Would he not come to Sir Anthony's private parlor?' The very faintest of smiles creased the lawyer's thin face as he walked along the passage in Mr. Chadbur's wake. He was ushered into a low-ceilinged, pleasant chamber looking out onto the quiet street, and left alone what time Mr. Chadbur went in search of Sir Anthony. The room was paneled and ceilinged in oak, with blue curtains to the windows and blue cushions on the high back settled by the fire. A table stood in the center of the floor, with a white cloth thereon and places laid for two. Another smaller table stood by the fireplace, together with a chair and a stool. The lawyer took silent stock of his surroundings and reflected grimly on the landlord's sudden change of front. It would appear that Sir Anthony was a gentleman of some standing at the checkers. Yet the little man was plainly unhappy, and fell to pacing to and fro, his chin sunk low on his breast and his hands clasped behind his back. He was come to seek the disgraced son of an earl, and he was afraid of what he might find. Six years ago Lord John Carstairs, eldest son of the earl of Winchem, had gone with his brother, the Honorable Richard, to a card party, and had returned a dishonored man. That Jack Carstairs should cheat was incredible, ridiculous, and at first no one had believed the tale that so quickly spread. But he had confirmed that tale himself, defiantly and without shame, before writing off, bound, men said, for France and the foreign parts. Brother Richard was left, so said the countryside, to marry the lady they were both in love with. Nothing further had been heard of Lord John, and the outraged earl forbade his name to be mentioned at Winchem, swearing to disinherit the prodigal. Richard espoused the fair lady Lavinia, and brought her to live at the great house, strangely for Lorne now without Lord John's magnetic presence. But far from being in a laded bridegroom, he seemed to have brought gloom with him from the honeymoon. So silent and unhappy was he. Six years drifted slowly by without bringing any news of Lord John, and then two months ago, journeying from London to Winchem, Richard's coach had been waylaid, and by a highwayman who proved to be none other than the scape-grace pier. Richard's feelings may be imagined. Lord John had been singularly unimpressed by anything beyond the humour of the situation. That however had struck him most forcibly, and he had burst out into a fit of laughter that had brought a lump into Richard's throat and a fresh ache into his heart. Upon pressure John had given his brother the address of the inn in case of accidents, and told him to ask for Sir Anthony Ferndale if ever he should need him. Then with one hearty handshake he had galloped off into the darkness. The lawyer stopped his restless pacing to listen. Down the passage was coming the tap-tap of high heels on the wooden floor, accompanied by a slight rustle as of stiff silks. The little man tugged suddenly at his cravat. Supposing Debonair Lord John was no longer Debonair. Supposing—he dared not suppose anything—nervously he drew a roll of parchment from his pocket and stood fingering it. A firm hand was laid on the door-handle, turning it cleanly round. The door opened to admit a veritable apparition, and was closed again with a snap. The lawyer found himself gazing at a slight, rather tall gentleman, who swept him a profound bow, gracefully flourishing his smart three-cornered hat with one hand, and delicately clasping cane and perfumed handkerchief with the other. He was dressed in the height of the Versailles fashion, with full skirted coat of palest lilac laced with silver, small clothes and stockings of white, and waistcoat of flowered satin. On his feet he wore shoes with high red heels and silver buckles, while a wig of the latest mode marvelously powdered and curled, and smacking greatly of Paris, adorned his shapely head. In the foaming lace of his cravat reposed a diamond pin, and on the slim hand, half covered by drooping laces, glowed and flashed a huge emerald. The lawyer stared and stared again, and it was not until a pair of deep blue, rather wistful eyes met his in a quizzical glance that he found his tongue. Then a look of astonishment came into his face, and he took a half-step forward. �Master Jack!� he gasped, �Master Jack!� End of Chapter 1 Part 1 Read by Cibella Denton. For more free audiobooks or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 1 At the Checkers Inn, Fallowfield, Part 2 Of Black Moth by George Atire. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. The elegant gentleman came forward and held up a reproving hand. The patch at the corner of his mouth quivered, and the blue eyes danced. �I perceive that you are not acquainted with me, Mr. Warburton,� he said, amusement in his pleasant, slightly drawing voice. �Allow me to present myself. Sir Anthony Ferndale, à vous servez.� A gleam of humor appeared in the lawyer's own eyes as he clasped the outstretched hand. �I think you are perhaps not acquainted with yourself, my Lord� he remarked, dryly. John laid his hat and cane on the small table, and looked faintly intrigued. �What's your meaning, Mr. Warburton?� �I have come, my Lord, to inform you that the earl your father died a month since. The blue eyes widened, grew of a sudden hard, and narrowed again. �Is that really so?� �Well, well, apoplexy, I make no doubt.� The lawyer's lips twitched uncontrollably. �No, Master Jack, my Lord died of heart failure. �Say you so, dear me, but will you not be seated, sir? In a moment my servant will have induced the chef to serve dinner. You will honor me, I trust.� The lawyer murmured his thanks and sat down on the settle, watching the other with puzzled eyes. The earl drew up a chair for himself and stretched his foot to the fire. �Six years, eh?� �I protest his prodigious good to see your face again, Mr. Warburton, and I'm the earl. �Earl and high Toby, by God� he laughed softly. �I have here the documents, my Lord.� Car stares eyed the roll through his quizzing-glass. �I perceive them. Pray return them to your pocket, Mr. Warburton. But there are certain legal formalities, my Lord. Exactly. Pray do not let us mention them. But sir� then the earl smiled and his smile was singularly sweet in winning. �At least not until after dinner, Warburton. Instead you shall tell me how you found me.� Mr. Richard directed me where to come, sir. �Ah, of course! I had forgot that I told him my �pied-à-terre� when I way-laid him. The lawyer nearly shuttered at this cheerful, bare-faced mention of his lordship's disreputable profession. �Ah, indeed, sir, Mr. Richard is eager for you to return.� The handsome young face clouded over. My Lord shook his head. �Impossible, my dear Warburton!  Come now! Confess. Warburton ignored the bantering tone and spoke very deliberately. �At all events, my Lord, I believe him anxious to make amends.� Carstairs shot an alert suspicious glance at him. �Ah! Yes, sir. Amends.� �My Lord�s studied his emerald with half-closed eyelids. �But why amends, Warburton?� he asked. �Is that not the word, sir? I confess it strikes me as enabbed. Doubtless I am dull of comprehension. �You are not one to be, my Lord.� my lord?" "'No, but six years changes a man, Warburton. Pray is Mr. Carstairs well.'" "'I believe so, sir,' replied the lawyer, frowning at the deaf change of subject. "'And Lady LaVenia?' "'I,' Mr. Warburton looked searchingly across at him, seeing which my lord's eyes danced afresh, brim-full with mischief. I am very delighted to hear it. Pray present my compliments to Mr. Carstairs and beg him to use Winchem as he wills. "'Sir! Mr. Jack, I implore you,' burst from the lawyer, and he sprang up, moving excitedly away, his hands twitching, his face haggard. My lord stiffened in his chair. He watched the other's jerky movements anxiously, but his voice when he spoke was even and cold. "'Well, sir,' Mr. Warburton wheeled and came back to the fireplace, looking hungrily down at my lord's impassive countenance. With an effort he seemed to control himself. "'Master Jack, I had better tell you what you have already guessed. I know.' Up went one haughty eyebrow. "'You know what, Mr. Warburton, that you were innocent. Of what, Mr. Warburton? Of cheating at cards, sir?' My lord relaxed and flicked a speck of dust from his great cuff. "'I regret the necessity of having to disillusion you, Mr. Warburton. My lord, do not fence with me. I beg. You can trust me, surely. Certainly, sir.' "'Then do not keep up this pretense with me. No, nor look so hard, neither. I've watched you grow up right from the cradle and Master Dick, too, and I know you both through and through. I know you never cheated at Colonel Dair's nor anywhere else. I could have sworn it at the time. I, when I saw Master Dick's face, I knew at once that it was he who had played foul, and you had but taken the blame.' "'No. I know better.  Can you? My lord sat silent. With a sigh Warburton sank on to the settle once more. He was flushed, and his eyes shone, but he spoke calmly again. Of course you cannot. I have never known you to lie. You need not fear I shall betray you. I kept silence all these years for my lord's sake, and I will not speak now until you give me leave. Which I never shall. Master Jack, think better of it, I beg you. Now that my lord is dead, it makes no difference. It was not for his sake. It was not because you knew how he loved Master Dick. No. Then to his lady Lavinia. No. But, my lord smiled sadly, ah, Warburton, how you avarred you knew us through and through. For whose sake should it be but his own? I feared it. The lawyer made a hopeless gesture with his hand. You will not come back? No, Warburton. I will not. Dick may manage my estates. I remain on the road. Lavin made one last effort. My lord, he cried despairingly, will you not at least think of the disgrace to the name and you be caught? The shadows vanish from my lord's eyes. Mr. Warburton, I protest you are of a morbid turn of mind. Do you know I had not thought of so unpleasant a contingency? I swear I was not born to be hanged. The lawyer would have said more had not the entrance of a servant carrying a loaded tray put an end to all private conversation. The man placed dishes upon the table, lighted candles, and arranged two chairs. Dinner is served, sir, he said. My lord nodded and made a slight gesture toward the windows. Instantly the man went over to them and drew the heavy curtains across. My lord turned to Mr. Warburton. What do you say, sir? Shall it be burgundy or clare, or do you prefer sack? Warburton decided in favour of clare. Clare, Jim, ordered car stairs and rose to his feet. I trust the drive has wedded your appetite, Warburton, for honest Chadbur will be monstrous, hurt, and you do not do justice to his capons. I shall endeavour to spare his feelings, replied the lawyer with a twinkle, and seated himself at the table. Whatever might be Mr. Chadbur's feelings he possessed an excellent cook. Mr. Warburton dined very well, beginning on a fat duck and continuing through the many courses that constituted the meal. When the table was cleared, the servant gone, and the port before them, he endeavour to guide the conversation back to the previous channels. But he reckoned without my lord, and presently found himself discussing the pretender's late rebellion. He sat up suddenly. There were rumours that you were with the prince, sir. Car stairs set down his glass in genuine amazement. I? Indeed, yes. I do not know once the rumour came, but it reached Winchem. My lord said not, but I think Mr. Richard hardly credited it. I should hope not. Why should they think me turned rebel prey? Mr. Warburton frowned. Rebels, sir. Rebels, Mr. Warburton. I have served under his majesty. The car stairs were ever Tory's, Master Jack, true to their rightful king. My dear Warburton, I owe not to the Stuart princes. I was born in King George I's reign, and I protest I am a good wig. Warburton shook his head disapprovingly. There has never been a wig in the Winchem family, sir. And you hope there never will be again, eh? What of Dick? Faithful to the pretender. I think Mr. Richard does not interest himself in politics, sir. Car stairs raised his eyebrows, and there fell a silence. After a minute or two Mr. Warburton cleared his throat. I? I suppose, sir, you have no idea of, uh, discontinuing your, uh, profession? My lord gave an irrepressible little laugh. Faith, Mr. Warburton, I've only just begun. Only—but a year ago, Mr. Richard—I held him up? I, but to tell the truth, sir, I've not done much since then. Then, sir, you are not, uh, notorious? Good God, no! Notorious! Forsooth! Confess, Warburton. You thought me some heroic figure? Gentleman Harry, perhaps? Warburton blushed. Well, sir, I, uh, wondered. I shall have to disappoint you, I perceive. I doubt both street has never heard of me, and to tell the truth, tis not an occupation which appeals vastly to my senses. And why, my lord, do you continue? I must have some excuse for roaming the country, pleaded Jack. I could not be idle. You are not compelled to, uh, rob, my lord? Carstairs wrinkled his brow inquiringly. Compelled? I take your meeting. No, Warburton. I have enough for my wants. Now, time was, but that is past. I rob for amusement's sake. Warburton looked steadily across at him. I am surprised, my lord, that you, a car-stairs, should find it amusing. John was silent for a moment, and when he at length spoke it was defiantly and with a bitterness most unusual in him. The world, Mr. Warburton, has not treated me so kindly that I should feel any qualms of conscience. But, and it gives you any satisfaction to know it, I will tell you that my robberies are few and far between. You spoke a little while ago of my probable, uh, fate on Tiber and Tree. I need not fear to hear of that. It gives me great satisfaction, my lord, I confess, stammered the lawyer, and found nothing more to say. After a long pause he again produced the bulky roll of parchment and laid it down before the earl with the apologetic murmur of business, my lord. Carstairs descended from the clouds and eyed the packet with evident distaste. He proceeded to fill his and his companion's glass very leisurely. That done he heaved a legubrious sigh, caught Mr. Warburton's eye, laughed in answer to its quizzical gleam and broke the seal. Since you will have it, sir, business. Mr. Warburton stayed the night at the checkers and travelled back to Wyncham next day by the two o'clock coach. He played piquet and écarte with my lord all the evening and then retired to bed, not having found an opportunity to argue his mission as he had hoped to do. Whenever he had tried to turn the conversation that way he had been gently but firmly led into safer channels and somehow found it impossible to get back. My lord was the gayest and most charming of companions, but taught business he would not. He regaled the lawyer with spicy anecdotes and tales of abroad, but never once allowed Mr. Warburton to speak of his home or his brother. The lawyer retired to rest in a measure reassured by the other scud spirits, but at the same time dispirited by his failure to induce car stairs to return to Wyncham. Next morning, although he was not up until twelve, he was before my lord, who only appeared in time for lunch, which was served as before in the yoke parlor. He entered the room in his usual, leisurely, yet decided fashion and made Mr. Warburton a marvellous leg. Then he bore him off to inspect his mare, Jenny, of whom he was inordinately proud. By the time they returned to the parlor luncheon was served and Mr. Warburton realised that he had scarcely any time left in which to plead his cause. My lord's servant hovered continually about the room, waiting on them, until his master bade him to go attend to the lawyer's release.  You want to reason with me, I know, Mr. Warburton, and indeed I will listen and I must. But I would so much rather that you left the subject alone, believe me. Warburton sensed the finality in his voice and wisely threw away his last chance. I understand his painful, my lord, and I will say no more. Only remember and think on it, I beg. The concern in his face touched my lord.  I can only say that I appreciate your kindness and your forbearance, and I trust that you will forgive my seeming churlishness and believe I am indeed grateful to you. I wish I might do more for you, Master Jack, stammered Warburton, made miserable by the wistful note in his favourite's voice. There was no time for more. The coach already awaited him, and his release had been hoisted up. As they stood together on the porch, he could only grip my lord's hand tightly and say good-bye. Then he got hurriedly into the coach, and the door was slammed behind him. My lord made his leg, and watched the heavy vehicle move forward and roll away down the street. Then with a stifled sigh he turned and walked towards the sables. His servant saw him coming and went at once to meet him. The Mayor, sir? As you say, Jim, the Mayor, in an hour. He turned and would have strolled back. Sir, your honour—he paused, looking over his shoulder. Well, they're on the lookout, sir, best be careful. They always are, Jim, but thanks. You wouldn't take me with you, sir, pleadingly. Take you! Faith, no! I've no mind to lead you into danger, and you serve me best by remaining to carry out my orders. The man fell back. I, sir, but—but—there are none, Jim. No, sir, but—you will have a care. I will be the most cautious of men. He walked away on the word, and passed into the house. In an hour he was a very different being. Gone was the emerald ring, the foppish cane, the languid air, too, had disappeared, leaving him brisk and business-like. He was dressed for riding, with buff coat and buckskin breeches, and shining top boots. A sober brown wig replaced the powdered creation, and a black tricorn was set rakeishly atop. He stood in the deserted porch, watching Jim strap his baggage to the saddle, occasionally giving a curt direction. Presently Mr. Chadbur appeared with a stirrup cup, which he drained and handed back with a word of thanks, and a guinea at the bottom. Someone called lustily from within, and the landlord, bowing very low, murmured apologies and vanished. Jim cast a last glance at the saddle-gurths, and leaving the mayor quietly standing in the road, came up to his master with gloves and whip. The baggage took them silently, and fell to tapping his boot, his eyes thoughtfully on the man's face. "'You will hire a coach, as usual,' he said at length, and take my baggage to—' He paused, frowning. "'Lose. You will engage your room at the White Heart and order dinner. I shall wear apricot and—' Hmm. Blue, sir?' ventured Jim, with an idea of being helpful. His master's eyes crinkled at the corners. "'You are a humorous salter. Apricot and cream.' "'Yes, tis a pleasing thought—' Cream. "'That is all. Jenny?' The mayor turned her head, whinnying, as he came toward her. "'Good-last!' he mounted lightly, and patted her glossy neck. Then he leaned sideways on the saddle to speak again to Salter, who stood beside him, one hand on the bridle. "'The cloak?' "'Behind you, sir. My wig?' "'Yes, sir.' "'Pistols?' "'Ready primed, sir.' "'Good. I shall be in lose in time for dinner, with luck.' "'Yes, sir. "'You—' "'You will have a care?' "'Anxiously.' "'Have I not told you?' "'He straightened in the saddle, touched the mare with his heel, and bestowing a quick smile and a nod on his man, trotted easily away.' End of Chapter 1, Part 2, read by Cibella Denton. For more free audio books or to volunteer, please visit Librivox.org. Chapter 2 My Lord at the White Heart, Part 1 of Black Moth by George Atire. Read for Librivox.org into the public domain. Sir Anthony Ferndale sat before the dressing-table in his room at the White Heart, idly polishing his nails. A gorgeous silk-dressing gown lay over the back of the chair, and behind him, Jim was attending to his wig, at the same time hovering anxiously over the coat and waistcoat that were waiting to be donned. Car stairs left off polishing his nails, yawned, and leaned back in his chair, a slim, graceful figure in cambrick shirt and apricot satin britches. He studied his cravat for some moments in the mirror, and lifted a hand to it. Salter held his breath. With extreme deliberation the hand moved a diamond and emerald pin, the fraction of an inch to one side, and fell to his side again. Salter drew a relieved breath which brought his master's eyes round to himself. No trouble, Jim? None at all, sir. Neither had I. Twas most surprisingly easy. The birds had no more fight in them than sparrows. Two men in a coach, one a bullying rascal of a merchant, the other his clerk. God! But I was sorry for that little man. He paused, his hand on the roge-pot. Salter looked in inquiry. Yes, knotted car stairs, very sorry.  He even blamed him for my advent, the greasy coward. Yes, Jim, you're right. He did not appeal to me, C.E. Mr. Fudby. So, ingenuously, I relieved him of his cash-box and two hundred guineas, a present for the poor of Luz. Jim jerked his shoulder frowning. If you give away all you get, sir, why do you rob at all? he asked bluntly.  Tis an object for my life, Jim, a noble object, and I believe it amuses me to play Robin Hood, take from the rich and give to the poor, he added, for Salter's benefit. But to return to my victims, you would have laughed had you but seen my little man come tumbling out of the coach when I opened the door. Tumble, sir, why should you do that? He was at pains to explain the reason. It seems he had been commanded to hold the door to prevent my entering. So when I jerked it open, sooner than Luz's hold, he fell out onto the road. Of course I apologized most objectively, and we had some conversation. Quite a nice little man. It made me laugh to see him sprawling on the road, though. I wish I could have seen it, your honour. I would have liked fine to have been beside you. He looked down at the lithe-form with some pride. I'd give something to see you hold up a coach, sir. Harris-foot in hand, Jack met his admiring eyes in the glass and laughed. I make no doubt you would.  Ah! Something to dream of a night's. I doubt they do, too, he added reflectively, and affixed the patch at the corner of his mouth. So a little low, do you think? But twilts of ice, what's to ward? Down below in the street there was a great stirring and bustling, whores' hooves, shouts from the ocelars, and the sound of wheels on the cobblestones. Jim went to the window and looked down, craning his neck to see over the balcony. "'Tis a coach arrived, sir. That much I had gathered,' replied my lord, busy with the powder. "'Yes, sir. Oh, lord, sir,' he was shaken with laughter. "'What now?' "'Tis the curiousest sight, sir.  "'Well, yes, sir, he do, rather, and he be wearing purple.' "'Heavens, yes, purple, and an orange waistcoat!' Jim peered afresh. "'So it is, sir, but how did you know?' Even as he put the question, understanding, flashed into Jim's eyes. "'I rather think that I have had the honour of meeting these gentlemen,' replied my lord placently. "'My buckle, Jim, is it a prodigious great coach with wheels picked out in yellow?' "'I, your honour, the gentlemen seem a bit put out, too.' "'That is quite probable. Does a smaller gentleman wear somewhat, uh, muddied garments?' "'I can't see, sir. He stands behind the fat gentleman.' "'Mr. Bumblebee, Jim!' "'Sir,' Jim turned quickly at the sound of the sharp voice. He found that my lord had risen and was holding up a waistcoat of pea-green pattern on a brilliant yellow ground between a dusted finger and thumb. Before his severe frown, Jim dropped his eyes and stood looking for all the world like a schoolboy detected in some crime. You put this monstrosity out for me to wear, in awful tones. Jim eyed the waistcoat gloomily and nodded. "'Yes, sir.' "'Then I not specify cream-ground.' "'Yes, sir. I thought—I thought that twas-cream. My good friend, it is—it is—I cannot say what it is—and pea-green!' He shuddered. "'Yes, it is—it.' Jim hurried forward and disposed of the offending garment. And bring me the broidered satin. Yes, that is it. It is particularly pleasing to the eye.' "'Yes, sir,' agreed the abashed Jim. "'You are excluded this time,' added my lord with a twinkle in his eye. "'What are our two friends doing?' Salter went back to the window. "'They've gone into the house, sir.' "'No, here's the spider-gentleman. He do seem in a hurry, your honour.' "'Ah,' murmured his lordship, "'you may assist me into this coat. Thanks.' "'With no little difficulty, my lord managed to enter into the fine satin garment, which, when on, seemed molded to his back. So excellently did it fit.' He shook out his ruffles and slipped the emerald ring on his finger with a slight frown. "'I believe I shall remain here some few days,' he remarked presently, to, uh, a lay suspicion. He looked across at his man as he spoke through his lashes. It was not in Jim's nature to inquire into his master's affairs much less to be surprised at anything he might do or say. He was content to receive and promptly execute his orders, and to worship car-stairs with a dog-like devotion, following blindly in his wake happy as long as he might serve him. Car-stairs had found him in France, buried down upon his luck, having been discharged from the service of his late master owing to the penniless condition of that gentleman's pocket. He had engaged him as his own personal servant, and the man had remained with him ever since, proving an invaluable acquisition to my Lord John. Despite a singularly wooden countenance, he was by no means a fool, and he had helped car-stairs out of more than one tight corner during his inglorious and foolhardy career as a high-women. He probably understood his somewhat erratic master better than any one else, and he now defined what was in his mind. He returned to that glance with a significant wink. "'Twas them, gentlemen, ye held up to-day, sir,' he asked, jerking an expressive thumb toward the window. "'Mmm. Mr. Bumblebee and friend. It would almost appear so. I think I do not fully appreciate Mr. Bumblebee. I find his conduct rather tiresome. But it is just possible that he thinks the same of me. I will further my acquaintance with him.' Jim grunted scornfully, and an inquiring eye was cocked at him. You do not admire our friend? Pray, do not judge him by his exterior. He may possess a beautiful mind. But I do not think so. "'No. I really do not think so.' He chuckled a little. "'Do you know, Jim?  But it is not with the fat gentleman that I shall have to deal. Tis with all the officials of this charming town, and I mistake not. Do I hear the small spider returning?' Salter stepped back to the window. "'I, sir, with three others. Precisely. It is so good as to hand me my snuff-bops and my cane. Thank you. I feel the time has come now for me to put in an appearance.  Yes, that will do excellently.' Jim grinned delightedly.  He swung open the door with an air and watched Sir Anthony mince along the passage to the stairs. In the coffee-room the city merchant, Mr. Fudby by name, was relating the story of his wrongs with many an impressive pause and much emphasis to the mayor, town clerk, and beetle of Luz. All three had been fetched by Mr. Chilter, his clerk, in obedience to his orders. For the bigger the audience the better pleased was Mr. Fudby. He was now enjoying himself quite considerably, despite the loss of his precious cash-box. So was not Mr. Hedges the mayor. He was a fussy little man who suffered from dyspepsia. He was not interested in the affair and he did not see what was to be done for Mr. Fudby. Further, he had been hailed from his dinner and he was hungry, and above all he found Mr. Fudby very unattractive. Still, a high-road robbery was serious matter enough, and some course of action must be thought out, so he listened to the story with an assumption of interest, looking exceedingly wise, and at the proper moments uttering sound's betoking concern. The more he saw and heard of Mr. Fudby the less he liked him. Neither did the town clerk care for him. There was that about Mr. Fudby that did not endear him to his fellow men, especially when they chanced to be his inferiors in the social scale. The beetle did not think much about anything. Having decided unrightly that the affair had nothing whatever to do with him, he leaned back in his chair and stared stolidly up at the ceiling. The tale Mr. Fudby was telling bore surprisingly little resemblance to the truth. It was a much embellished version, in which he himself had behaved with quite remarkable gallantry. It had been gradually concocted during the journey to lose. CHAPTER II. MY LORD AT THE WHITE HEART. PART II. OF BLACK MOTH. BY GEORGET HIRE. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. He was still holding forth when my lord entered the room. Car stares raised his glass languidly to survey the assembled company, bowed slightly, and walked over to the fire. He seated himself in an arm-chair and took no further notice of anybody. Mr. Hedges had recognized at a glance that here was some grand senior and wished that Mr. Fudby would not speak in so loud a voice. But that individual, delighted at having a new auditor, continued his tale with much relish and in a still louder tone. My lord yawned delicately and took a pinch of snuff. Yes—yes, fussed Mr. Hedges, but short of sending to London for the runners, I do not see what I can do. If I send to London it must, of course, be at your expense, sir. Mr. Fudby bristled. At my expense, sir—do you say at my expense? I am surprised. I repeat, I am surprised. Indeed, sir, I can order the town crier out, describing the horse, and up offering reward for the capture of any man on such an animal. But—he shrugged and looking across at the town clerk—I do not imagine that would be much use, say, Mr. Brand.  Fear not! I fear very much not. I would advise Mr. Fudby to have a proclamation posted up round the country. He sat back with an air of one who has contributed his share to the work, and does not intend to offer any more help. Ho! growled Mr. Fudby. He blew out his cheeks. It will be a grievous expense, though I suppose it must be done, and I cannot but feel that if it had not been for your deplorably cowardly conduct, children—yes, cowardly conduct, I say—I might never have been robbed out of my two hundred. He snuffled a little, and eyed the flushed but silent chilter with mingled reproach and scorn. However, my coachman assures me that he could swear to the horse again, although he cannot remember much about the man himself. Chilter! How did he describe the horse? Oh! a chestnut, Mr. Fudby—a chestnut with a half-moon of white on its forehead and one white foreleg. Jack perceived that it was time he took a hand in the game. He half turned in his chair and leveled his quizzing-glass at Mr. Chilter. I beg your pardon," he drawled. Mr. Fudby's eyes brightened. The fine gentleman was roused to an expression of interest at last. He launched forth into his story once more for my Lord's benefit. Carstairs eyed him coldly, seeing which Mr. Hedges came hurriedly to the rescue. Uh! yes, Mr. Fudby, quite so. Your pardon, sir. I have not the honour of knowing your name. Ferndale—supplied Jack. Sir Anthony Ferndale. Uh! yes, Mr. Hedges bowed. Pray, pardon my importuning you with our— Not at all, said my Lord. No, quite so. The fact is these, uh, gentlemen have had the misfortune to be waylaid on their journey here. Sir Anthony's glass was again leveled at the group. His expression betokened mild surprise. All these gentlemen, he inquired blandly. Oh! no, no, sir, not at all, only Mr., uh, Fudby, said that worthy, and discovered that Sir Anthony was bowing, frigidly. At once he rose, and, resting his knuckles on the table before him, bent his body slowly and painfully. Sir Anthony inclined his head, whereupon, to the delight of all the rest, Mr. Fudby bowed again with even greater stateliness than before. Mr. Hedges observed Sir Anthony's lips twitched convulsively. He waited for Mr. Fudby to subside, and then he continued, Yes, Mr. Fudby and Mr.—my clerk, snapped Fudby. Sir Anthony favoured Mr. Chilter with his peculiarly sweet smile, and turned again to Mr. Hedges. I see. A daylight robber, you say. Broad daylight! boomed Mr. Fudby. Uh, yes, yes, interposed the mayor, fearing a fresh outbreak from that quarter. I wonder if you have seen anything of such an animal as Mr.—uh, Chilter, described. Tis a most extraordinary thing, said Carster slowly, but I've just bought such an one. He glanced round with an inquiring smile, and one eyebrow lifted. Well, ejaculated Mr. Fudby, well—dear me, what a strange coincidence! May I ask where you bought it and from whom? She's not been in my possession over two hours. I bought her from an out-at-elbows ruffian on my way hither. I thought at one time that it was strange that the man should possess such a mare—pure bread, I bow—and I wondered why he was so eager to be rid of her. He was eager because he knew he would be recognized by her, explained Mr. Fudby kindly. Without a doubt. Perhaps you would like to see her. I will send my man—oh, no, no, cried the mayor. We would not dream of so inconveniencing you. Tore a pleasure, bow Jack, devoutly hoping that Mr. Fudby would not require to see Jenny, who he felt sure would betray him by her very evident affection. No, no, Sir Anthony, tis quite unnecessary, I assure you. But I thank you for all that. Mr. Fudby, if you would describe the man himself, I will see to the proclamation. Describe him, children," ordered Mr. Fudby, who was becoming rather grumpy. Mr. Chilter smiled suddenly. "'Certainly, sir,' he said with alacrity. "'Twas a great ruffianly fellow, monstrously tall. How tall,' interrupted the town clerk, six feet. "'Oh, quite,' lied Mr. Chilter, and fat!' Jack's shoulders shook. "'Fat,' he say, he asked gently. "'Very fat,' affirmed Mr. Chilter, and prodigious ruff, swearing dreadfully in his speech. You could not see his face, I suppose." Mr. Chilter hesitated. "'I could see his mouth and chin,' he said, and I remarked a long scar running from his underlip to the, uh, bottom of his face.  Either the little clerk was a born romancer, or for some reason or other he did not want the highwayman to be taken. "'Well, Sir Anthony,' the Mayor was saying, does that description fit your man?' My Lord frowned thoughtfully. "'Tall,' he said slowly, and fat. "'You said fat, I think, Mr. Chilter?' Rather anxiously Mr. Chilter reiterated this statement. "'Ah! And with a long scar. Yes, that is undoubtedly he. Furthermore,' he added audaciously, he has a squint in his left eye, to the most ill-favored rogue in all. "'It would appear so,' Sir Anthony remarked the Mayor quietly. He did not, in the least, believe the story of the squint, and imagined that the fine court gentleman was amusing himself at their expense. Nevertheless, he had no intention of remonstrating. The sooner he could withdraw from this very tiresome affair the better. So he gravely took down all the absurd particulars, remarked that the man should be easy to find, and made ready to depart. The town clerk rose, and tapped the beetle on the shoulder, whereupon that worthy, with a grunt, abandoned his pose of masterly inactivity, and followed the Mayor out of the room. Mr. Fudby rose. "'I doubt I shall never see my money again,' he said pettishly.  "'Doubtless, Sir, you would wish to see my Mayor?' "'I know not of horses,' snorted Mr. Fudby. "'Tis my clerk who appears to have remarked all the details.' He sneered terrifically. "'Then pray! Do me the honour of walking as far as the stables, Mr. Chilter.  "'Me, sir—' "'Oh, uh—' "'Have you, Sir Anthony?' He looked up and perceived that the gentleman was laughing. "'Yes, Mr. Chilter—' "'A very serious grudge. You have described me as fat!' Chilter nearly fainted. "'You, sir,' he gasped, and stared in amazement. "'Also that I swear dreadfully in my speech, and I have a scar running from my mouth to my chin. Mr. Chilter stood stock still in the middle of the path. It was you, sir, all the time.  Were you the man who wrenched open the door? I was that infamous scoundrel. I beg leave once more to apologize for my carelessness in opening that same door. Now, tell me, why did you take such pains to throw dust in their sleepy eyes?' "'They resumed their walk slowly. The little clerk flushed.  I wonder if there is anything that I can do to show my gratitude.' Again the clerk flushed and lifted his head proudly. "'I thank you, sir, but there is not.' By now they had reached the stable. Car stares opened the door and entered. Then will you accept this in token of my regard, sir?' Mr. Chilter gazed at the emerald ring that glowed and winked at him from the palm of my Lord's hand. He looked up into the blue eyes and stammered a little. "'Indeed, sir, I—I—' "'Tis honestly come by, pleadingly. Come, Mr. Chilter, you'll not hurt my feelings by refusing.  The clerk took it with most unsteady fingers. "'I thank you most—nay, I beg of you. As I thank you for aiding me so kindly. Come and see my Jenny. Well, lass!' For the mare at the first sound of his voice had turned in her loose box and was whinnying and pawing the ground eagerly. "'I do not understand, sir—anything. How is it that you are a highwayman? Or why have you honored me with your confidence? Why should you trust me? But—thank you.' As he spoke Mr. Chilter placed his hand in my Lord's, and for the second time in his life felt the pressure of those firm, kindly fingers. "'Why, your honor, you've lost your emerald. No, Jim. I gave it away.' "'He gave it away, sir—' "'Mmm. To the small spider.' "'But—' "'And he called me fat, too.' "'Called you fat, sir,' asked the man, bewildered. "'Yes, very fat.  He proceeded to give Jim a sketch of what had transpired below. But he had finished. The man shook his head severely. "'I doubt you'll never learn, wisdom, sir,' he scolded. "'I? What have I done?' "'What did you want to tell it all to the spider-man for, sir? To his most incautious of you. Like his not, he'll split to the fat gentleman, and we'll have the whole town at our heels.' "'Which just shows you all you know of the small spider,' replied his master, calmly. "'Hand me the powder.' End of Chapter 2 Part 2 Wyncham A stately old house with million-dwindows standing high on its stone terraces, half covered by creepers, a house surrounded by lawns, rolling down on the one side to a river that rippled and murmured its way along beneath overhanging trees and a blue sky, over boulders and rocks, so clear and sparkling that the myriad pebbles could be seen deep down on its bed. In the other direction the velvet lawns stretched away till they met the orchards and the quiet meadowland. On two sides the house had its terraces, very white in the sunshine, with stone steps leading down to a miniature lake, where water lilies grew, and where the tiny fish darted to and fro unconcernedly. Flagged walks there were, running between flower beds, a riot of color, and solemn old trees that had stood there through all the years. Cool woodland lay beyond a little river, carpeted with dark moss, wherein spring the prim roses grew. So thick was the foliage of the trees that the sun-but penetrated in uneven patches. Up the terrace walls crept roses, yellow and red, pink and red-white, and tossed their trailing sprays across the parapet. Over the walls of the house they climbed, mingling with purple clematis, jasmine, and sickly honeysuckle. The air was heavy with their united perfumes, while wafted from a bed below came the smoky scent of lavender. The old house seemed half asleep, basking in the sunlight. Save for a peacock preening its feathers on the terrace steps there was no sign of life. The old place had harbored generations of car-stairs. Earl had succeeded Earl and reigned Supreme, and it was only now that there was no Earl living there. No one knew where he was. Scarce a month ago one died, but the eldest son was not there to take his place. For six years he had been absent, and none dared breathe his name, for he disgraced that name, and the old Earl cast him off and forbade all mention of him. But the poor folk of the countryside remembered him. They would tell one another tales of his reckless courage, his sweet smile and his winning ways, his light-heartedness and his never-failing kindness and good humor. What a writer he was! To see him, said his horse. What a swordsman! Do you mind the time he fought young Mr. Welsh over yonder in the spinery with half the countryside watching? Ah, he was the one, was Master Jack. Do you mind how he knocked the sword, clean out of Mr. Welsh's hands, and then stood waiting for him to pick it up? And do you mind the way his eyes sparkled and how he laughed just for the sheer joy of living? Andless anecdotes would they tell, and the old gaffers would shake their heads in sigh, and long for the sight of him again.  Who wanted Mr. Richard for a squire? Not they at least. They knew he was a good squire and a kindly man, but give them Master John who would laugh and crack a joke and never where the glum looks that Mr. Richard affected. In the house Richard Carstairs paced to and fro in his library, every now and again pausing to glance wretchedly up at the portrait of his brother hanging over his desk. The artist had managed to catch the expression of those blue eyes, and they smiled down at Richard in just the way that John was always want to smile, so gaily and with all so wistfully. Richard was twenty-nine, and already he looked twice his age. He was very thin, and there were deep lines on his good-looking countenance.  He was dressed soberly and without that touch of smartness that had characterized him six years ago. He wore black in memory of his father, and it may have been that severity only relieved by the lace at his throat that made his face appear so prematurely aged. There was none of his brother's boyishness about him, even his smile seemed forced and tired, and his laughter rarely held merriment. He pulled out his chronometer, comparing it with the clock on the mantelpiece. His pacing took him to the door, and almost nervously he pulled it open, listening. No sound came to his ears. Back again, two and fro across the room, eagerly awaiting the clanging of a bell. It did not come, but presently a footfall sounded on the passage without, and some one knocked at the door. In two strides Richard was by it, and had flung it wide. Warburton stood there. Richard caught his hand. Warburton! At last! I've been waiting this hour and more. Mr. Warburton disengaged himself, bowing. I regret I was not able to come before, sir," he said primly. I make no doubt you traveled back as quickly as possible. Come in, sir.  Sit down, Warburton. Sit down. You—you found my brother? Again Warburton bowed. I had the felicity of seeing his lordship, sir. He was well, in good spirits. You thought him changed, yes? Aged perhaps or— His lordship was not greatly changed, sir. Richard almost stamped in his impatience. Come, Warburton, come! Tell me everything. What did he say? Will he take the revenues? Will he— His lordship, sir, was reluctant to take anything. But upon mature consideration he consented to accept his elder son's portion. The revenues of the estates he begs you will make use of. Ah! But you told him that I would touch not belonging to him? I tried to persuade his lordship, sir, to no avail. He desires you to use Wincham as you will. I'll not touch his money. Warburton gave the faintest of shrugs. That is, as you please, sir. Something in the suave voice made Richard, from his stand by the desk, glance sharply down at the lawyer. Suspicion flashed into his eyes. He seemed about to speak, when Warburton continued. I believe I may set your mind at rest on one score, Mr. Carstairs. His lordship's situation is tolerably comfortable. He has ample means. But—but he lives by robbery. Warburton's thin lips curled a little. Does he not? Persistent Carstairs. So he would have us believe, sir. Tis true. He waylayed me. And robbed you, sir. Robbed me? He could not rob his own brother, Warburton. You're pardoned, Mr. Carstairs, you're right. His lordship could not rob a brother. But I have known a man to do such a thing. For a long minute there was no word spoken. The suspicion that had dwelt latent in Carstairs's eyes sprang up again. Some of the color drained from his cheeks, and twice he passed his tongue between his lips.  Rather feverishly his eyes searched the lawyer's face, questioning. John told you—told you—he started and floundered hopelessly. His lordship told me nothing, sir. He was singularly reticent. But there was nothing he could tell me that I did not already know. What do you mean, Warburton? Why do you look at me like that? Why do you fence with me? In plain words, what do you mean?" Warburton rose, clutching his hands. I know, you Master Richard, for what you are. Ah! Carstairs flung out his hand as if to ward off a blow. Another tense silence. With a great effort Warburton controlled himself, and once more the mask of impassivity seemed to descend upon him. After that one tortured cry Richard became calm again. He sat down, on his face a look almost of relief, coming after a great strain. You learnt the truth from John. He will expose me. No, sir, I have not learnt it from him, and he will never expose you. Richard turned his head. His eyes, filled now with a species of dull pain, looked full into Warburton's. Oh! He said, than you. Nor I, sir. I have pledged my word to his lordship. I would not speak all these years for your father's sake. Now it is for his, he choked. You are fond of John? Still the apathetic, weary voice. Fond of him? Good God, Master Dick! I love him. And I, said Richard, very low. He received no reply and looked up. You don't believe me? Once, sir, I was certain of it. Now, he shrugged. Yet to his true Warburton, I would give all in my power to undo that night's work. You cannot expect me to believe that, sir. It rests with you alone, whether his name be cleared or not, and you remain silent. Warburton, I—oh! Do you think it means nothing to me that John is outcast? Before the misery in those grey eyes some of Warburton's severity fell away from him. Master Richard, I want to think the best I can of you. Master Jack would tell me nothing. Will you not—can you not explain how it came that you allowed him to bear the blame of your cheat? Richard shuddered. There's no explanation, no excuse. I forced it on him—on Jack, my brother—because I was mad for love of Lavinia. Oh, my God! The thought of it is driving me crazed. I thought I could forget, and then—and then I met him. The sight of him brought it all back to me. Ever since that day I have not known how to live and not shriek the truth to everyone. And I never shall—I never shall. Tell me, sir," pleaded Warburton, touched in spite of himself. Richard's head sunk into his hands. The whole scene is a nightmare. I think I must have been mad. I scarce knew what I was about. I—Gently, sir, remember I hardly know anything. What induced you to mark the cards? That debt to Gundry. My father would not meet it. I had to find the money. I could not face the scandal. I tell you I was mad for Lavinia. I could think of not else. I ceased to care for John, because I thought him in love with her. I could not bear to think of the disgrace which would take her from me. Then that night it dares. I was losing. I knew I could not pay. God! But I can see my notes of hand under Millward's elbow, growing, growing. Jack had played Millward before me, and he had won. I remember they laughed at him, saying his luck had turned at last, for he always lost at cards. Millward and I played with the same pack that they had used. There was another table, I think. Dare was dicing with Fitzgerald. Someone was playing pharaoh with Jack behind me. I heard Jack say his luck was out again. I heard them laugh. And all the time I was losing—losing—end of Chapter 3, Part 1. CHAPTER III. Introducing the Honourable Richard Carstairs. PART II. OF BLACKMOTH BY GEORGET HIRE. Red for LibriVox.org into the public domain. The pin of my cravat fell out onto my knee. I think no one saw it. As I picked it up, the thought that I should mark the cards seemed to flash into my mind. Oh, it was despicable, I know. I held the ace of clubs in my hand. I scratched at it with that pin in one corner. It was easily done. By degrees I marked all four, and three of the kings. No one noticed, but I was nervous. I dared do no more. I replaced that pin. Soon I began to win—not very much. Then Tracey Belmanois came across the room to watch our play. From that moment everything seemed to go awry. It was the beginning of the trouble. Tracey stood behind me, watching. I could feel him there, like some black moth hovering. I don't know how long he stayed like that. It seemed hours. I could feel his eyes. I could have shrieked. I'll swear my hands were trembling. Suddenly he moved. I had played the ace of hearts. He said, one moment—in that soft, sinister voice of his. Millward was surprised. I tried to tell myself that Devil had noticed nothing. The mark on that card was so faint that I could scarcely see it myself. I thought it impossible that he, a mere onlooker, should discover it. He stepped forward. I remember that he brushed my shoulder. I remember how the light caught the diamonds he was wearing. I think my brain was numbed. I could only repeat to myself, Extravagant Devil, Extravagant Devil, and stare at those winking jewels. Then I thought, he's Lavinia's brother, but I do not like him. I do not like him. Little foolish things like that, and my throat was dry, parched. He bent over the table, stretched out his white, white hand, turned over the ace, lifted his quizzing-glass, and stared down at the card. Then he dropped the glass and drew out his snuff-box. It had Aphrodite enameled on the lid. I remember it so distinctly. I heard Tracy ask Millward to examine the ace. I wanted to spring up and strangle him. I could scarce keep my hands still. Richard paused. He drew his hand across his eyes, shuttering. Millward saw the scratch. He cried out that the cards were marked. Suddenly everyone seemed to be gathered about our table, all talking. Jack had his hand on my shoulder. He and Dare were running through the pack. But all the while I could look at no one but Tracy, and over. He seemed so sinister, so threatening, in those black clothes of his. His eyes were almost shut, his face so white, and he was looking at me. He seemed to be reading my very soul. For an instant I thought he knew. I wanted to shout out that he was wrong. I wanted to shriek to him to take his eyes away. Heaven knows what I should have done. But he looked away at Jack with that sneering smile on his damned mask of a face. I could have killed him for that smile. I think Jack understood it. He dropped the cards, staring at Tracy. Everyone was watching them. No one looked at me. If they had, they must surely have learnt the truth, but they were hanging on Andover's lips, looking from him to Jack and back again. I remember Fitzgerald dropped his handkerchief. I was absurdly interested in that. I was wondering why I did not pick it up when Andover spoke again. And Carstairs's luck turned, like that, Warburton, with just that faint questioning in his voice. Before Jack could speak there was an outcry. Dare cried, shame to Andover. They laughed at him as well they might, but I saw them exchange glances. They were wondering. It was suspicious that Jack should have had that run of luck, and that he should lose as soon as he had left that table. That word, poor, silly millward, gaped at Tracy, and stuttered that surely it was another pack we had used. I could hardly breathe. Then Andover corrected him. How did he know? No one else remembered, or thought of noticing, only he.  Do I understand you to accuse me, Belmenois? He said. Oh! But he was furious! Tracy never said a word. Only his eyes just flickered to my face and away again. Jack's hand was gripping my shoulder hard. I could feel his anger. Dare called out that the suggestion was preposterous, that John should cheat. Tracy asked him if the cards were his. God! I can hear his soft mocking voice now. Dare went purple. You know his way, Warburton. Opened in your presence on this table, he cried. By car stairs, smiled Tracy. It was true. But why should Tracy remember it and none other? They stared at him, amazed. Dare turned to Jack for corroboration. He nodded. I think he never looked haughtier. You know how fond of Jack, Dare, was. He tried to bluster it off, tried to get control over the affair. It was to no avail. We were puppets, worked by that devil Belmenois. One man managing that ghastly scene. He pointed out that only three of us had used that pack. Jack, Millward, and I. Jack laughed. Next you will accuse Dick, he snapped scornfully. One of you certainly smiled handover, or Millward. Then everyone realized that one of us three must have marked the cards. Millward was upset, but no one suspected him. It was Jack or me. As long as I live I shall never forget the horror of those moments. If I were exposed it would mean the end of everything between Lavinia and me. I tell you, Warburton, I would have committed any sin at that moment. Everything would have been too black. I could not bear to lose her. You don't know what she meant to me. I can guess, sir, said the lawyer gravely. No, no. No one could imagine the depths of my love for her. I think not even Jack. I felt his hand leave my shoulder. The truth had dawned on him. I heard the way the breath hissed between his teeth as he realized. Somehow I got to my feet, clutching at the table, facing him. I don't excuse myself. I know my conduct was beyond words, dastardly. I looked across at him, just said his name, as though I could scarce believe my ears. So all those watching thought. But Jack knew better. He knew I was imploring him to save me. He understood all that I was trying to convey to him. For an instant he stared at me. I thought—I thought—God, forgive me. I pray that he might take the blame on himself. Then he smiled, cowered though I was, when I saw that hurt, wistful little smile on his lips I nearly blurted out the whole truth. Not quite. I suppose I was too mean-spirited for that. Jack bowed to the room and again to Dare. He said, I owe you an apology, sir. Dare sprang forward, catching him by the shoulder, crying out that it could not be true. When Jack laughed, he fell away from him as from the plague, and all of them—my God!—to see them drawing away, not looking at Jack. In Jack's face, growing paler and harder every moment, all his friends turning their backs to him, Davinot, even Jim Davinot walked away to the fireplace with Evans. I could not look at Jack. I dared not. I could not go to him, stand by him. I had not the right. I had to leave him there in the middle of the room alone. The awful hurt in his eyes made me writhe. The room was whirling around. I felt sick. I know I fell back into my chair, hiding my face. I hardly cared whether they suspected me or not, but they did not. They knew how great was the love between us, and they were not surprised that I broke down. I heard Andover's voice. He was telling some tale to Dare. Oh, they were well-bred, those men. They skimmed over the unpleasant little episode, ignored Jack. Jack spoke again. I could guess how bravely he was keeping a proud front. I know word for word what he said. Mr. Dare, your grace, gentlemen, my apologies for being the cause of so unpleasant an incident. Pray give me leave. They paid no heed. I heard him walk to the door. I heard him open it. I could not look at him. He—he paused, and said just one word—Dick—quite softly. Heaven knows how I got to him. I know I overturned my chair. That drew Dare's attention. He said, You are not going, Dick. I shouted yes at him, and then Jack took my arm, leading me out. And all he said was poor old Dick. He had no word of blame for me. He would not allow me to go back and tell the truth, as I would have done. I, Warburton, when Jack called me to him, I would have cried it aloud, but he would not have it. He said, For Levinia's sake. Warburton blew his nose violently. His fingers were trembling. You know what happened afterwards. You know how my father turned Jack out penniless. You know his friends shunned him. You know my poor mother's grief. And you know that he went away, that we could not find him when my mother died. His last words to me were, Make Levinia happy, and try to forget all this. Forget it. Heavens, try as I might. I could hear nothing further of him until two months ago when he waylaid me. Then I was half dazed at the suddenness of it. He grasped my hand and laughed. It was so dark I could scarce see him. I only had time to demand his address, and then he was off, galloping away over the heath. I think even then he bore me no malice. He does not now, said Warburton sharply. But Master Dick, if all this is true, why do you not even now clear him? Surely! Richard turned his head slowly. Now I may not drag my wife's name through the mud. By clearing him I ruin her. Everyone could find nothing to say. Only after some time did he clear his throat and say that he was honoured by Carstairs's confidence. You, uh, you dwell on the part played by his grace on that evening. Surely your, shall we say, overwrought imagination magnified that? Richard was disinterested. I suppose so. May Hapt was his extraordinary personality dominating me. He cannot have pulled the wires as I thought he did. Not even Belman Wah could make me act as I did. But at the time I felt that he was pushing, pushing, compelling me to accuse Jack. Oh, doubtless I was mad. Warburton eyed the dejected figure compassionately. Then he seemed to harden himself and to regain some of his lost primness of manner. You, uh, you are determined not to accept the revenue, sir? I have not yet sunk so low, Mr. Warburton. His lordship leaves Wincham and all appertaining to it at your disposal. He would be grieved at your refusal. I will not touch it. The lawyer nodded. I confess, Mr. Carstairs, I am relieved to hear you say that. It will not be necessary again to communicate with his lordship. I think he does not desire any intercourse with his family. He finds it too painful.  Thank you. You could ascertain nothing of his situation. He did not confide in you. He was very reticent, sir. I think he is not unhappy. And not embittered? Certainly not that, sir. Mr. Warburton rose plainly anxious to be gone. Reluctantly Richard followed his example. You have nothing further to tell me of him? I regret, sir, nothing. Richard went slowly to the door and opened it. You must allow me to thank you, sir, for your goodness in undertaking what I know must have been a painful task. I am very grateful. Mr. Warburton bowed low. I beg you will not mention it, sir. Nothing I might do for the car-stairs could be awed but a pleasure. Again he bowed, and the next instant was gone. End of Chapter 3 Part 2 CHAPTER IV INTRODUCING THE LADY LAVINIA CAR-STARES PART I OF BLACKMOTH by GEORGET HIRE Richard went slowly back to his chair. After a moment he sat down, staring blankly out of the window, his hands loosely clasped on the desk before him. So he remained for a long while, immobile. At last, with the faintest of sighs, he moved and picked up a quill. He dipped it in the ink, and with his other hand drew towards him a sheaf of papers. Presently he was riding steadily. For perhaps twenty minutes the quill traveled to and fro across the pages. Then it paused, and Richard looked up towards the door. It opened to admit Lady LaVinia. She came rustling into the room with her embroidery in her hand. She dropped her husband to mock curtsy, and went over to a high-backed armchair, stretching out a dimpled hand to draw it forward. But even as her fingers touched it she had changed her mind, and fluttered over to the couch, there to seat herself with much swirling of brocades and arrangement of skirts. She then proceeded to occupy herself with her work, plying her needle hurriedly and jerkily. Richard watched her in silence, following each turn of the pretty hand and each movement of her fair head. The silence was evidently not to my lady's taste, for she presently began to beat an impatient tattoo on the floor with one slender foot. Still he said nothing, and she raised her pure china-blue eyes to his face. Why so glum, Dick? Why so glum, Dick? Why do you not talk to me? Her voice was rather high-pitched and childish, and she had a curious way of ending each sentence with an upward lilt and a long, drawed-out accent, very fascinating to listen to. Richard smiled with an obvious effort. Am I, my dear? I crave your pardon. Warburton has just left. Her face clouded over instantly, and the full-liped mouth drooped petulantly. He has seen him. Oh! She made the word twice its length, and filled it with disinterest. Yes, Jack will have none of it. He asks me to be his steward and to use winch him, as I will. He is very generous. Yes, oh yes! And will you, Richard? He ignored the question. He, Warburton, says he is not much changed. Oh! Again, the long-drawn monosyllable, accompanied by a tiny yawn. He says he does not think, Jack, bears me ill-will. He paused, as if expecting her to speak, but she was absorbed in arranging two flowers, culled from a bowl at her side at her breast, and took no notice. The flowers turned his head away wearily. If it were not for you, my dear, I would tell the truth. I believe I shall go crazed, and I do not. Dick! She dropped the flowers on the floor, and thought no more about them. Dick! Oh! You have no fear. I do not suppose, bitterly, that I have the courage to face them all now, after six years. Lavinia moved restlessly, brushing her hand along the couch. You will not do it, Richard! Promise! You will not! I could not bear the disgrace of it! Promise me you will never do it! No, he said slowly, not looking at her. No, I cannot promise that.  That means you will do it! You want to disgrace me!  You—Lavinia, for heaven's sake! He implored, pushing back his chair. Calm yourself! He knew she was about to fly into one of her sudden passions, and frowned with acute vexation. I will not! Oh! Yes! Yes! You think me as shrew! I know! I know! But you need not frown on me, sir, for you are worse! No! I will not, Hush!  A cheat! A cheat! Car stares strode over to her. Lavinia! No! No!  You make me miserable!  That is untrue!" cried Richard, goaded into replying. I will not promise you—that is all. What have I refused you that was within my means to give you? God knows you try your best to ruin me. There! There! To his eye whom to blame! Pray you did not induce my lord to leave his money to John, when you knew he would have willed it all to you, and you had kept silence! You took no thought to me! For heaven's sake, Lavinia, be still! You do not know what you are saying! She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. No! I am unreasonable! I know it! But don't you tell me so, for I cannot bear it! And don't look reproach at me, Richard!  She was sweeping up and down the room like some caged animal, lashing herself to a worse fury. Say something, Richard! Do something! Don't stand there so quietly! Oh! You should never have married me!  I am despicable! Yes! Yes! But what are you? Oh! Why did you tell me you cheated after you had wedded me? Angry sobs escaped her. Her handkerchief was in shreds upon the floor. Car stares turned his back to her that she might not see how she had contrived to hurt him, and the movement drove her to fresh fury. Don't do that! Don't! Don't! You make me worse by your dreadful silence! Oh! If you really loved me! You cannot doubt that! He cried out, wheeling suddenly around. You know how I love you, don't you?" He gripped her by the shoulders and swung her to face him. She trembled and gave a sobbing little laugh. As suddenly as it had come, her anger left her. Oh! Yes! Yes! You do love me, Dicky! She twined her arms about his neck and shrank closer. God help me, yes! He groaned, thrusting her away. And you! You care for no one! Save yourself! No! No! She cried, pressing up to him again. Do not say that, Dick! Indeed, I love you, but I cannot live without Gayety. You know I cannot. Oh! I do not doubt, but what I am very selfish, but tis the way I am fashioned, and I cannot change my nature. And now I have hurt you, and I did not mean to. I did not mean to. My dear, I know you did not, but try to be less a child. I beg of you. You are so uncontrolled. So— I knew you would say that, she answered in a dead voice. You do not understand me. You expect me to be good and patient and verbaring, and I tell you tis not in my nature. But, Levinia, you can control your passions, he said gently. No, I cannot. We bellmanoise, as God made us so we are, and He made us spendthrift and pleasure-loving and mad. She walked slowly to the door. But you do not understand, and you try to make me staid and thoughtful and a good mother, when I am dying for life and excitement, and care not that for housewife-free. She opened the door slowly.  Why can you not take me to London, when you know how I long to be there, instead of in this gloomy house with not to do save mind my child and my needle? I'm so tired of it all, so very tired of it all. She would have left the room then, but he detained her. Wait, Levinia, you say you are unhappy? She released the door-handle and fluttered her hand expressively. Unhappy? No, I am dull, I am ill-tempered, I am discontented. I am ought you please, so do not be sad, Richard, I cannot bear you to be solemn. Oh, why do we quarrel?" With one of her impulsive movements she was again at his side, with her beautiful face upturned. Love me, Richard, take me to London, and never mind, and I do squander your money. Say you do not care. Say nothing matters so long as I am happy. Why do you not say it? Does anything matter? Don't be prudent, Dickie, be wild, be reckless, be anything rather than grave and old. Her arms crept up to his coaxingly. Take me to London. Car stares smoothed the soft hair back from her forehead, very tenderly, but his eyes were worried. My dear, I will take you, but not just yet. There is so much to be done here. If you will wait a little longer. Ah! If I will wait! If I will be patient and good! But I cannot! Oh! You don't understand, Dickie. You don't understand. I am sorry, dear. I promise I will take you as soon as possible, and we will stay as long as you please. Her arms fell away. I want to go now! Dear! Very well, very well. We will go presently. Only don't reason with me." He looked at her concernedly. You are overwrought, my love, and tired. Yes, she agreed listlessly. Oh, yes, I will go now and rest. Forgive me, Dick. She kissed her fingertips and extended them to him. I will be good one day." She turned and hurried out of the room and up the stairs, leaving the door open behind her. Richard stayed for a moment, looking round at the signs of her late presence. Mechanically he stooped to pick up her embroidery and the pieces of her handkerchief. The two flowers were broken off short, and he threw them away. Then he left the room and went out onto the sunny terrace, gazing across the beautiful gardens into the blue distance. CHAPTER IV. INTRODUCING THE LADY LAVINIA CAR STAIRS. PART II. OF BLACK MOTH BY GEORGET HIRE. Red for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Across the lawn came a child of four or five, waving a grimy hand. FATHER! Richard looked down at him and smiled. Well, John. The boy climbed up the terrace steps, calling his news all the way. "'Tis Uncle Andrews, sir. He has rid over to see you, and is coming through the garden to find you.' "'Is he? Has he left his horse at the stables?' "'I, sir, so I came to tell you.' "'Quite right. Will you come up with me to meet him?'  "'Oh, may I?' he cried and slipped his hand in Richard's. After they descended the steps and made their way across the lawn. "'I have run away from Betty,' announced John with some pride. "'There is Uncle Andrews, sir. He bounded away towards the approaching figure.' "'Lord Andrew Belmanois was Richard's brother-in-law, brother to the present duke. He came up with John in his arms and tumbled him to the ground. "'Good day, Dick. "'Tis a spoiled child you have there.' "'I. He has but now escaped from his nurse. "'Splendid. Come, John. Talk with us, and we'll confound fat Betty.' He slipped his arm through Richard's as he spoke. "'Come, Dick. There's a deal I have to say to you.' He grimaced ruefully. The child ran on ahead towards the woods, a great bull mastiff at his heels. "'What's to do now?' asked Richard, looking round into the mobile, dissipated countenance. "'The devil's in it this time, and no mistake,' answered his Lord ship with a rueful shake of his head. "'Dets?' "'Lord, yes. I was at Deleby's last night, and the stakes were high. All together I've lost about three thousand, counting what I owe Carew. And devil take me, and I know where it's to come from. Here's Tracy turned to Saint, and swears he'll see me damned before he hands me another penny. I doubt he means it, too.' Tracy was the duke. Richard smiled a little cynically. He had already had to lend his grace a thousand guineas to pay off some trifling debt. He means it right enough. I believe it would puzzle him to find it. "'Do you say so? Why, it is impossible, man. Tracy was in town scarce a fortnight since, and he had a run of the devil's own luck. I tell you, Dick, I saw him walk up with a cool five thousand one night. And then he denies me a paltry three. Lord, what a brother! And all with the air of an angel as if he had never lost at dice, and homily thrown in. Anyone would think I had cheated instead of—'em, I'm confoundedly sorry, Dick, damned thoughtless of me. Never thought about ch—about what I was saying. I'm a fool,' for Richard had winced. "'You cannot help that,' he said, forcing a laugh. Have done with your apologies and continue.' They had come to the stream by now and crossed the little bridge into the wood. Ah, there's not much more. It is only that something must be done, for Carew won't wait, and stat me if I'd ask him, the lean-faced scarecrow, so I came to you, Dick.' He let go Richard's arm and flung himself down on a fallen tree-trunk, regardless of velvet and laces. "'You're a good fellow, and you don't lecture a man as Tracey does, devil-taken. And you play high yourself or you did, though tis an age since I saw you win or lose enough to wink at. And after all, you're Lavey's husband, and—and—oh, dammit, all, Dick, tis monstrous hard to ask you!' Car stares, leaning against a tree, surveyed the youthful rake amusedly. "'Tush, Andrew,' he reassured him. "'You're welcome to ask, but the Lord knows where I'm to find it. God! What a life!  Richard laughed at him. "'You're a thrifty fellow yourself, of course.' Andrew looked round for something to throw at him, and finding nothing relapsed once more into deepest despondency. "'You're in the right of it. We're a worthless lot. Tis the old man's blood in us. I doubt not, with the smattering of her grace. You never knew my mother, Richard. She was French—Lavey's the spit of her. There's Tracey—stap me, but Tracey's the very devil.  No, I'll swear you've not. What with his sneering mouth and his green eyes? Oh, Tis enough to make a fellow go to the dogs to have a brother like it, palm my soul it is. I, you can laugh, but I tell you, it is serious. I, go on. Well, next there's Bob. Damn it all, but I'm sorry for Bob. Tis a beggarly pitonce they gave him in the army, and he was never one to pinch and scrape. Well, as I say, there's Bob, and I never see him, but what it's— lend me a hundred, Andy, or the like. And all to buy is mistress some guga. That's what sicken's me. Why, Bob's forever in some scrape with a petticoat, and ask for Tracey. God! How they can! Then there's Lavinia, but I should think you know her by now. And lastly, there's your humble servant.  The bother is I'll never be any different. Tis in the blood, so what's the use in trying? He made a rueful grimace in rows. Come on, young Rip, we're going back. John, engaged in the task of hunting for tadpoles in the water some yards distant, nodded and ran on. I fear my lady is indisposed, said Richard, hesitatingly. You wish to see her? Andrew, winked knowingly. Tantrums, eh? Oh, I know her. No, I do not care, and I do not see her.  Oh, I, I'll be dumb. They walked slowly back to the house. Andrew silent for once, twirling his gold-mounted cane. You shall have the money, of course. When do you want it? said Richard presently. Pawn-honor!  But Tis like to put Stanny nonsense. When do you need it? I should pay caro as soon as may be. Markham can wait over if—no, no—Wednesday? Will do excellently well, Dick. Barbara! Oh, Pasha! Tis not. I want your opinion on the bay mare I bought last week. You'll maybe think her a trifle long in the leg, but she's a fine animal. John had run indoors, and the two men proceeded to the stables alone, Andrew, discoursing all the way, recounting for his brother-in-law's benefit the choicest morsels of scandal that were circulating town at the moment. That his auditor but attended with half an ear affected him not at all. He never paused for an answer, and in any case was far good nature to care if he received none. By the time they had duly inspected the mare and walked back to the house, it was nearly four o'clock, and not altogether to car stairs a surprise, Lavinia was awaiting them on the terrace, clad in a totally different gown, and with her hair freshly arranged and curled. To it appear that Lavinia has recovered, remarked Andrew as they mounted the steps, she was ever thus, not two minutes the same. Well, Lavi? Well, Andrew, she gave him a careless hand to kiss, but smiled sweetly up at her husband. My headache is so much better, she told him. And they said that Andrew was come to see you, so I came downstairs. She turned eagerly to her brother. Tell me, Andrew, is Tracy at home? Lord, yes, he arrived yesterday, devil take him. Do you want him? Oh, yes, she nodded. I want to see him again. I've not set eyes on him for an age. I want you to take me back with you. Really my dear, to his trifle late in the day for such a drive, to Murd Richard, trying to conceal his annoyance, can you not wait until to-morrow? Faith, you'll have to, Lavi, for I'll not take you to-day, that's certain. I'm riding to Fletcher's when I leave here. Tracy can visit you to-morrow when he chooses. Well, he, she asked doubtfully. Andrew clapped his hand to his vest pocket. If I had not forgot, he exclaimed, I've a letter from him for you. He intends waiting on you to-morrow in any case. And what it is to have a scatter-brain like mine! He pulled a handful of papers from his pocket and selected one, sealed and addressed in a sloping Italian handwriting. Lavinia pounced on it joyfully and tore it open. Andrew restored the rest of the documents to his pocket with yet another rueful laugh. Duns, Richard, duns!  Oh, no, but many thanks, Dick. These are quite unimportant. Why not pay them all and start afresh, urged car-stares? Lord, no. Why I should be so damned elated that before the day was out there'd be a score of fresh debts staring me in the face. Let me lend you a thousand to begin on. Could you not keep out of debt? I keep out of debt? Impossible! Don't look so solemn, Dick. I told you it was in the blood. We never have a penny to bless ourselves with, but what's the odds? I shall have a run of luck soon. A man can't always lose. Then I shall be able to repay you. But of course I shan't. It'll all go at the next table. I know. He spoke so ingeniously that Richard could not be angry with him. There was a certain frankness about him that pleased, and though he might be spendthrift and heedless and colossally selfish, Richard felt a genuine affection for him. He would have liked to argue the point further, but Lavinia came forward refolding her letter. Tracey is coming to-morrow afternoon, she told her husband, to be prodigiously agreeable will it not? He assented, but with a lack of warmth that did not fail to strike her ears. And he will stay to dine with us? She cried challengingly. Certainly my love. Look pleased, Dickie, look pleased. Why don't you like Tracey? He's my own brother. You must like him. Of course I like him, Lavinia. Pray do not be foolish. Oh, I am not. Don't be cross, Dickie, dear. Well, if you like him, I'm surprised, broken Andrew. I can't bear him. I flash your eyes at me, Lavin. I don't mind. Lavinia opened her mouth to retaliate, but Richard hastily interposed. Their bickering was more than he could bear, and he never understood how Lavinia could stoop to quarrel with the boisterous youth who tried so palpably to rouse her. He bore them both off to the house, feeling much like a nursemaid with two recalcitrant children. END OF CHAPTER XII. Lady Lavinia addressed herself with even more than her usual care next afternoon, and well nigh drove her maid distracted by her flashes of temper and impatient, contradictory orders. So lengthy was the toilette that she was only just in her boudoir when his Grace of Andover was announced. She had no time to tell the footmen that she would receive his Grace, for almost before the words were out of James's mouth, he stood bowing in the doorway, sure of his welcome. He was curiously like his sister, this man, and at the same time curiously unlike. Hers were the high cheekbones and pinched aristocratic nostrils, but the mouth, with its thin lips and the heavy-litted green eyes, were totally different. His Grace's brows slanted up at the corners, and his eyes, though piercing and bright, were constantly veiled by the black-lashed lids. He wore his own black hair, unpowdered, and that, together with the black and silver garments that he always affected, greatly enhanced the natural pallor of his countenance. All together it was a very striking figure that stood just before the closed white door and bowed to my lady. Lavinia took an eager step towards him, swinging her pearl-grey brocades. Oh, Tracy! she cooed, holding out both hands. His Grace advanced into the room and bent low over them. I rejoiced to find you within, Lavinia, he said, a faint tinge of sarcasm running through his smooth tones. As you perceive, I rode over. He made a gesture towards his high boots with their wicked-looking spurs. No doubt Andrew forgot to give you my letter. No, she said, slipping her hand in his arm. He remembered it in time, and—oh, Tracy, I was so vastly delighted to have it. I am indeed honoured, he replied. I am come on a sufficiently important matter. Oh! She pulled her hand away disappointedly. Money! You are really wonderful, my dear. As you so crudely remark, money, will you not be seated? She sank down on the couch, dejectedly, and watched him take a chair opposite her. Your most noble lord and master lent me a trifling some the other day, but very trifling. I am as usual hard-pressed, and that young fool Andrew must need's fall into debt. My lady opened her eyes wide in surprise. Do you tell me you need money from Richard to pay Andrew's debts? She asked, frankly incredulous. I do not. Is it likely? The remark was purely by the way. Well, in any case, Andrew borrowed three thousand from poor Dick only yesterday. I know, because I heard him speak of it. His grace raised his black brows in patient exasperation. How unnecessary of Andrew! and how typical! So poor Dick has been squeezed already. Don't speak like that, Tracey! She cried. Dickie is good to me. She met his piercing look unflinchingly. Now this becomes interesting, draw the duke, since when have you come to that conclusion? And why this sudden loyalty? I've always been loyal to him, Tracey. You know I have. I worry him, and indeed he is very forbearing. But how charming of him! No, do not sneer, Tracey. He has promised to take me to London for the whole winter. His grace leaped back in his chair again. Now I understand, he said, placently. I was at a loss before. It is not that, Tracey. Indeed I realize how kind he is to me, and we have quarreled again. We are always quarreling, and I know it is all my fault. What a comfortable conviction, my dear! No, no, it is not comfortable, Tracey. For somehow I cannot change my disposition, although I mean to be patient and sweet.   There was a time—I know, I know, but I never meant to live here always like this. I want to go to London. I thought you said you were going. Yes, I am.  Well, I can conceive that life with him might prove uninspiring. Safe, my dear, but not exciting. I knew you would understand. You see, he does not like me to play at cards, because I cannot stop.  He is so—so—so staid, Tracey, and careful. A good trade in a husband, Lavinia, replied his grace cynically, Tiz, because I do not possess it that I am single now. Her lips curled scornfully at this, for well she knew her brother. Tracey, that is not so.  No woman would marry you. That is most interesting, my dear, purred his grace. But, praise, strive to be a little more original. Continue your analysis of Richard's sterling character. Tiz, only that we are so different, she sighed. I always desire to do things quickly, if I think of something I wanted at once—once.  She got up swiftly, clasping her little nervous hands. When he speaks to me in that gentle reasoning-way, I could scream, Tracey. Do you think I am mad? She laughed, unmusically. No, he replied, but the next thing to it, a belle manoire. Perhaps it was a pity you ever married Richard, but there is always the money. There is not, she cried out sharply. Not what mean you. Tracey, Tiz of this that I want to speak, you think my Lord left his money to dick? Certainly, he should be stupendously wealthy. He is not. But my good girl, the revenues, must be enormous. He has the land, surely. No, no, he has not the land. Oh, but I am angry whenever I think on it. He induced my Lord to leave it to John. He has but his younger son's portion. I still fail to understand. You informed me that the Earl left all to Richard? He changed his will, Tracey. He changed his will? Then my dear, you must have played your cards very badly. Twas not my fault, Tracey. Indeed twas not. I knew not till the will was read. Richard never spoke a word to me about it. And now we are comparatively poor. Her voice trembled with indignation, but his grace only whistled beneath his breath. I always knew, of course, that dick was a fool, but I never guessed how much so till now. At that she flared up.  He is an honest man and his—we—we—I tell you, who are mean and despicable and mercenary. Undoubtedly, Lavinia, but pray do not excite yourself over it. I suppose he is still devoted to that young hothead. Yes, yes. Tis all jack, jack, jack, until I am sick to death of the sound of his name and— She broke off, biting her lip. And what? Oh, not, but tis also disagreeable, Tracey. It certainly is slightly disturbing. You had better have chosen John in spite of it all, it seems. She stamped angrily. Oh, where's the good in being flippant? My dear Lavinia, where's the good in being anything else? The situation strikes me as rather amusing—to think of the worthy Richard so neatly overturning all my plans. If it had not been for you I might never have married him. Why did you throw them both in my way? Why did I ever set eyes on either? It should have been a good match, my dear, and if I remember rightly, no one was more alive to that fact than yourself. She pouted angrily and turned her shoulder to him. End of Chapter 5 Part 1 Chapter 5 His Grace of Andover Part 2 of Black Moth by George Ed Hire RedfurleyBrivox.org into the public domain. Still, he continued reflectively, I admit for the smart lot we are, we do seem to have rather bungled the affair. Lavinia swept round upon him. Oh, do you care no more than that? How can you be so casual? Does it affect you not at all? He wrinkled his thin nose expressively. I shall not weep over it, Lavinia, but tis a plagey nuisance. But we must see what can be done. And that brings me back to the original subject. Despite these upsetting revelations I still require that money. Oh, dear, how much must you have, Tracy? Five hundred might suffice. Tracy, do not the estates bring in anything? She asked, petulently. And Andrew told us you had a run of marvellous luck, but not a fortnight since. Since then, my dear, I have had three runs of marvellous ill luck. As to the estates they are mortgaged up to the hill, as you very well know. What little there is, is between three. And Robert is extravagant.  I am not partial to him myself, but it makes no odds. I wish he might die. Oh, no, no! Now I am become ill-natured again. I don't wish it, only I am so tired of everything. You shall have that money as soon as possible, but be careful, Tracy. Please be careful. Tis not easy to get money from Dick. No, I should imagine not. However, we have managed rather well up to the present, take it all and all. Up to the present he has had all the money he wanted. My Lord denied him not. Well, tis unfortunate, as I said before, but it must be endured. Where is Dick? I know not. You will stay to dinner, Tracy? Thank you. I shall be charmed. Yes, yes. Oh, how prodigiously pleasant it is to see you again. Soon I shall come to Andover. Well, you let me stay a few days. The question is, will Richard allow you to stay so long in my contaminating presence? Richard would never keep me away, Tracy," she replied proudly. He could not. Oh, why is it that I don't love him more? Why do I not care for him as much as I care for even you?  That alas, Richard, has not yet succeeded in doing. But I do love Richard. I do. I do. Yet. Exactly. Yet. The grand passion has not yet touched you, my dear, and you are quite self-absorbed. Self-absorbed? Those are hard words. But not too hard for the case. You think solely of yourself, your own pleasure, your own character, your own feelings. If you could cast yourself into the background a little, you would be less excitable and considerably less discontented.  Pray, what of you? Are you so selfless? Not at all. I am precisely the same. I was merely suggesting that you might be happier and you could dispose self. You had best do the same yourself. My dear Lavinia, when I feel the need of greater happiness I most undoubtedly shall. At present I am quite content.  Pray, except my heartfelt apologies, you shall come to Andover if there worthy Richard permits. Her face cleared as if by magic.  I cannot even receive now on account of this mourning. But when I am at Andover, oh, we will not worry over anything and I can be bad-tempered without feeling that someone is being hurt by me. Oh, come to Dickie at once, at once!" He rose leisurely. I can imagine that you try Richard's patience somewhat, he remarked. Happily, your impetuosity in no way disturbs me. We will go in search of Richard. Halfway down the great staircase she perceived her husband and flew to meet him. Richard, I was coming in search of you. Tracy has invited me to Andover for a week. He purposes to ask several people to stay, and there will be parties and entertainment. You will let me go? Say yes, Dick, say yes, quickly. Car stairs bowed to his grays, who stood watching them from the stairs. The bow was returned with exaggerated flourish. Car stairs looked down at his wife. So soon, Lavinia, he remonstrated and indicated her mourning.  Oh, Dickie, does it matter? What can it signify? I do not ask you to come." No, he said, half sadly, half amusedly. I noticed that, my dear. No, no, I did not mean to be unkind. You must not think that. You don't think it, do you, Dick? Oh, no, he sighed. Good Dickie, she patted his cheek coaxingly. Then you will allow me to go. Ah, but yes, yes, you must listen. You know how dull I am and how silly. It is because I need a change, and I want to go to Andover. I want to go. Yes, dear, I know. But my father is not yet dead six weeks, and I cannot think it seemly. Please, Dick, please! Just do not say no. Tis will make me so unhappy. Oh, will you not be so unkind? You will not forbid me to go. I ask you not to, Lavinia. If you need a change, I will take you quietly to Bath, or where you will. Do not ping me by going to Andover just now. Bath! Bath! What do I want with Bath at this time of the year? Oh, Tis continued to offer, but I want to go to Andover. I want to see all the old friends again. And I want to get away from everything here. Tis also gloomy after—after my lord's death. Dearest, of course you shall go away. But if only you would remember that you were in mourning. But Tis would I wish to forget. Oh, Dicky, don't—don't—don't be unkind. Very well, dear, if you must go—go." She clapped her hands joyfully. Oh, thank you, Dicky, and you are not angry with me. No, dear, of course not. Ah, now I am happy. Tis sweet of you, Dicky, but confess you are secretly thankful to be rid of me for a week. Now are you not? She spread out her fan in the highest good humour and coquetted behind it. Richard was induced to smile. I fear I shall miss you too sadly, dear. Oh! she dropped the fan. But think how you will look forward to seeing me again and I you, why I shall be so thankful to be back after a week away that I shall be good for months. His face lightened, and he caught her hand in his. Darling, if I thought you would miss me—but of course I shall miss you, Dick! Oh! Pray mind, my frock! Shall I not miss him, Tracey?" Richard suddenly remembered his brother-in-law's presence. He turned and went to the foot of the stairs. So you are determined to rest my wife for me, he smiled. Tracey descended leisurely, opening his snuff-box. Yes, I require a hostess, he said, and have—he paused—induced her to honour and over with her presence. Shall we have the felicity of seeing you at any time? I thank you, no. I am not, you will understand, in the mood for the gaiety for which my poor Lavinia craves. The Duke bowed slightly, and they all three went out onto the terrace. Lavinia laughing and talking as Richard had not heard her laugh or talk for days. She was the life and soul of the little dinner-party, flirting prettily with her husband and exerting herself to please him in every way. She had won her point, therefore she was in excellent spirits with all the world, and not even the spilling of some wine on her new silk served to discompose her. CHAPTER VI. BATH. 29. QUEEN'S SQUARE. PART ONE. OF BLACK MOT. BY GEORGET HIRE. Red for LibriVox.org into the public domain. The autumn and the winter passed smoothly, and April found the car stairs installed at Bath, whither Lady Lavinia had teased her husband into going, despite his desire to return to Wincham and John. She herself did not care to be with the child, and was perfectly content that Richard should journey occasionally to Wincham to see that all was well with him. On the whole she had enjoyed the winter, for she had induced Richard to open Wincham House, Mayfair, the Earl's Town residence, where she had been able to hold several entirely successful routes and many select little card parties. Admirers she had a many, and nothing so pleased her vain little heart as masculine adulation. Car stairs never entered his home without stumbling against some fresh flame of hers, but as they mostly consisted of what he rudely termed the lap-dog type, he was conscious of no jealous qualms, and patiently submitted to their inundation of his house. He was satisfied that Lavinia was happy, and as he assured himself at times when he was most tired, nothing else signified. The only flaw to Lavinia's content was the need of money. Not that she was stinted, or was ever refused anything that he could in reason give her, but her wants were never reasonable. She would demand a new town chariot, upholstered in pale blue, not because her own was worn or shabby, but because she was tired of its crimson cushions. Or she would suddenly take a fancy to some new and usually fabulously expensive toy, and having acquired it weary of it in a week. Without a murmur Richard gave her lap-dogs of the real kind, black pages, jewels, and innumerable kick-shaws, for which she rewarded him with her brightest smiles and tenderest caresses. But when she required him to refurnish Wyncham House in the style of the French court, throwing away all the present Queen Anne furniture, the tapestries, and the countless old trappings that were one and all so beautiful and so valuable, he put his foot down with a firmness that surprised her. Not for any whim of hers was Jack's house to be spoiled. Neither her coaxing nor her tears had any effect upon Richard, and when she reverted to sultz he scolded her so harshly that she was frightened and, in consequence, silenced. For a week she thought and dreamt of nothing but gilded French chairs, and then abruptly, as all else, the fancy left her, and she forgot all about it. Her Mantua-makers' bills were enormous, and caused Richard many a sleepless night, but she was always so charmingly penitent that he could not find it in his heart to be angry, and after all, he reflected, he would rather have his money squandered on her adornment than on that of her brothers. She was, by turns, passionate and cold to him, one day enrapturing him by some pretty blendishment, the next day snapping peevishly when he spoke to her. At the beginning of the season he dutifully conducted her to routes and ball-masks, but soon she began to go always with either Andrew or Robert, both of whom were in town, and whose casual chaperonage she much preferred to Richard's solistice care. Tracy was rarely in London for more than a few days at a time, and the car-stairs, greatly to Richard's relief, saw but little of him. Car-stairs disliked Colonel Lord Robert Belmondois, but the duke he detested, not only for his habitual sneer towards him, but for the influence that he undoubtedly held over Lavinia. Richard was intensely jealous of this, and could sometimes hardly bring himself to be civil when his grace visited my lady. Whether justly or not, he inwardly blamed Tracy for all Lavinia's crazy whims and periodical fits of ill temper. It did not take his astute grace long to discover this, and with amused devilry he played upon it, encouraging Lavinia and her extravagance, and making a point of calling on her whenever he was in town. Car-stairs never knew when not to expect to find him there. He came and went to and from London with no warning whatsoever. No one ever knew where he was for more than a day at a time, and no one was in the least surprised if he happened to be seen in London when he should, according to all accounts, have been in Paris. They merely shrugged their shoulders and exchanged glances murmuring devil Belmondois, and wondering what fresh intrigue he was in. So altogether Richard was not sorry when my lady grew suddenly sick of town and was seized with the longing for bath. He had secretly hoped that she might return to Wincham, but when she expressed no such wish he stifled his own longing for home, filled up the London house, and took her and all her baggage to bath, installing her in Queen Square in one of the most elegantly furnished houses in the place. Lady Lavinia was, at first, charmed to be there again, delighted with the house and transported over the excellencies of the new French milliner she had discovered. But the milliner's bills proved monstrous, and the drawing-room of her house not large enough for the route she contemplated giving. The air was too relaxing for her, and she was subject to constant attacks of the vapours that were as distressing to her household as they were to herself. The late hours made her headache as at number eight in London, and the damp gave her cold. Furthermore, the advent of an attractive and exceedingly wealthy little widow caused her many a bitter hour to the considerable detriment of her good temper.  Alas, the craze for French furniture was over, smelling bottle in hand and bonafide ache in her head, when the door opened and Tracy walked into the room. Good heavens! she said faintly, and uncorked her salt. It was his Grace's first appearance since she had come to Bath, and the fact that he had politely declined an invitation that she had sent to him still rankled in her mind. He bowed over the limp hand that she extended and looked her up and down. I regret to find you thus indisposed, my dear sister, he said smoothly. "'Tis not.  I am never well here, and the house is stuffy,' she answered fretfully. "'You should take the waters,' he said, scrutinizing, through his eyeglass, the chair to which she had waved him. It has an unstable appearance, my dear. I believe I prefer the couch.' He moved to a smaller sofa and sat down. "'Pray, how long have you been in Bath?' she demanded. I arrived last Tuesday week.' Lady Levinia started up. "'Last Tuesday week? Then you've been here ten days and not visited me until now.' He appeared to be examining the whiteness of his hands through the folds of black lace that drooped over them. "'I believe I had other things to do,' he said coolly. A book of sermons that she had been trying to peruse slid to the ground as Levinia jerked a cushion into place.  How could you be so unkind as to refuse my invitation?' There was a rising, querulous note in her voice which gave warning of anger. "'My dear Levinia, if you exhibit your deplorable temper to me I shall leave you, so have a care. I thought you would understand that your good husband's society, improving though it may be, would be altogether too oppressive for my taste. In fact, I was surprised at your letter.' "'You might have come for my sake,' she answered peevishly, sinking back again. "'I suppose you have been dancing attendance on the Molesley woman. Lord! But I think you men have gone crazed.' Understanding came to his grace, and he smiled provokingly. "'Is that what upsets you? I wondered.' "'No, tis not. And I do not see why you should think so. For my part I cannot see that she is even tolerable, and the way the men rave about her is disgusting—disgusting! But tis always the same when a woman is unattached and wealthy. Well, well, why do you not say something? Do you find her so lovely?' "'To tell the truth, my dear, I have barely set eyes on the lady. I have been otherwise engaged, and I have done with all women, for the time save one.' "'So I have heard you say before. Do you contemplate marriage?' "'Lord! But I pity the girl.' She gave a jeering little laugh, but it was evident that she was interested. His grace was not in the least degree ruffled. "'I do not contemplate marriage, Lavinia, so your sympathies are wasted. I have met a girl—a mere child, for sure—and I will not rest until I have her. "'Lord! Another farmer's chit.' "'No, my dear sister, not another farmer's chit, a lady. God help her! Who is she? Where does she live?' "'She lives in Sussex. Her name I shall not tell you.' Her ladyship kicked an offending cushion onto the floor and snapped at him. "'Oh! As you please! I shall not die of curiosity.' "'Ah!' The cynical lips curled annoyingly, and Lady Lavinia was seized with a mad desire to hurl her smelling-bottle at him. But she knew that it was worse than useless to be angry with Tracy, so she yawned ostentatiously and hoped that she irritated him. If she did she got no satisfaction from it, for he continued, impeturably.  Is it possible the girl will have none of your grace?' wondered Lavinia in mock amazement, and had the pleasure of seeing him frown.  She watched his hand clench on his snuff-box, and exalted silently at having roused him. It was a very brief joy, however, for the next moment the frown had disappeared. The hand unclenched, and he was smiling again. At present she is cold, he admitted, but I hope that in time she will become more plastic. I think, Lavinia, I have some experience with your charming, if capricious sex. I don't doubt you have. Where did you meet this perverse beauty? In the pump-room. Lord, pray describe her. I shall be delighted. She is taller than yourself and dark.  Her eyes are brown, but there are lights in them that are purest amber, and yet they are dark and velvety. My lady had recourse to the smelling-bottle. But I perceive I wear you, a man in love, my dear Lavinia.