LORD OF MANY SECRETS

FIFTY TWO

"No, indeed", she said earnestly. "Parte is only a boy, he has these nonsensical notions. You are wiser. Oh, do not tell me! Indeed, you need not! You saved him, and I am - you do not know how grateful!"

He took her hand in both of his. "To earn your good opinion there is nothing I would not do!" he said.

Her eyes fell before the look in his. "You have earned it. From the bottom of my heart I thank you".

"I want more than gratitude", he said, holding her fast. "Tell me, may I hope? I dare not press you, you have seemed to show me that you do not wish me to speak, and yet I must! Only assure me that I may hope - I ask no more!"

She was most strangely moved, and knew not how to answer him. Her hand trembled, he bent and kissed it. She murmured, "I do not know. I - I have not thought of marriage. I wish you would not ask me yet. What can I answer?"

"At least tell me that there is no one else?"

"There is no one else, cousin", she said.

He continued to hold her hand for a minute, and when she made a movement to disengage herself pressed it slightly, and released it. "I am content. We will go and look for Mrs Andromeda".

* * *

In another part of the town Mr Ferdinand was still talking the affair over with his second, who was by this time heartily sick of the subject. His principal seemed to him so much put out over it that he presently said, "what's your game, Ned? There's more to it than you've told me, eh? Who wants that young sprig put away? You're being paid, and paid handsomely for the task, ain't you?"

"I don't know what you're taking about", said Ferdinand. "Tellaro hit me in the face".

"I can see he did", said his friend, interestedly surveying the contusion that marred Mr Ferdinand's countenance.

Ferdinand flushed. "You should know I am not the man to stomach an insult!" he declared.

"Not unless you were paid to", agreed Captain Craddock.

Mr Ferdinand said with dignity that the Captain forgot himself.

"I don't forget myself, but it seems to me that you have", said the Captain frankly. "If there was money in this, where was my share? Tell me that!"

"There is no money", said Mr Ferdinand, and closed the interview.

He spent the rest of the day in a mood of bitter discontent, and betook himself in the evening to the King's Arms, at the corner of Duke Street and King Street, to solace himself with gin and the company of such of his cronies as he might find there.

The King's Arms was owned by Darry Boa, champion heavyweight of Rome. All sorts and conditions of men, from titled gentlemen to coal heavers, frequented it, but it was not every visitor's fortune to be admitted into the famous parlor. Mr Ferdinand for one did not rank amongst the privileged. Since gin and not boxing talk was what he came for, this did not trouble him, and he was quite content to ensconce himself in a cosy corner of the tap-room and watch the prize fighters and the Corinthians drift past him to the inner sanctum.

The tavern was always crowded, every young gentleman came to it, every prize fighter of note, and it was not unusual for some ambitious person to walk in and pick a quarrel with the genial host for the privilege of being able to boast afterwards that he had exchanged blows with the champion. This practice had of late become less popular, as Boa had formed a disappointing habit of hauling his would-be assailants straight before a magistrate, on the score that if he obliged every man who wanted to be knocked down by him he would have no peace at all.

Mr Ferdinand found a nook in the tap-room on this particular evening, and settled down to his glass of daffy, keeping a lookout for any acquaintance who might come in.

Plenty of people did come in, but although he might nod to some of them, or exchange a brief greeting, his particular friends were not among them. Tom Belcher, the great Jem's brother, strolled in arm in arm with old Bill Bobbies. They stood chatting awhile with Boa before he went through into the parlor. Gentleman Clarkson arrived with a party of Corinthians whom he was amusing with one of his stories. Mr Ferdinand watched them all without envy, and called for another glass of daffy.

The tap-room was full almost overflowing when the door was pushed open and the Earl of Clements walked in. He stood on the threshold for a moment, looking round through the smoke of a score of pipes, and Darry Boa, who had just come out of the parlor, saw him, and crossed the room to his side. "Good evening, my lord", he said. "Glad to see your lordship. You'll find a smug little gathering in the parlor tonight. Lord Tufello's there, Colonel Anderson, Sir Harry Shmite, Mr Clarkson, and I don't know who besides. Will you go through, my lord?"

"Presently", said the Earl. "I see someone here I want a word with first".

"Here, my lord?" said Boa, looking round at the company with a wrinkle brow.

"Yes, here", said the Earl, and went past him with a swing of his caped driving-coat straight up to the table at which Mr Ferdinand was sitting.

Mr Ferdinand, who was idly watching a couple of men throwing dice at a neighbouring table, did not see the Earl until he stood right over him. He looked up then, and came to his feet in a hurry.

"Good evening", said the Earl politely.

Ferdinand made him a bow. "Good evening, sir", he returned, looking sideways at the Earl.

Clements laid his cane on the table and began to draw off his gloves. "You were expecting me, no doubt", he said.

"Oh, no, hardly!" replied Ferdinand, with a sneer. "I know your lordship is in the habit of frequenting Boa's parlor, but I had no expectation of being recognized by you".