"That," said Barnabas, shaking his head, "that I cannot believe."
"Have you known many women, Bev?"
"No," answered Barnabas; "but I have met the Lady Cleone—"
"Once!" added the Viscount significantly.
"Once!" nodded Barnabas.
"Hum," said the Viscount. "And, therefore," added Barnabas,
"I don't think that we need fear Sir Mortimer as a rival."
"That," retorted the Viscount, shaking his head, "is because you don't know him—either."
Hereupon, having come to the inn and having settled their score, the Viscount stepped out to the stables accompanied by the round-faced landlord, while Barnabas, leaning out from the open casement, stared idly into the lane. And thus he once more beheld the gentleman in the jaunty hat, who stood lounging in the shade of one of the great trees that grew before the inn, glancing up and down the lane in the attitude of one who waits. He was tall and slender, and clad in a tight-fitting blue coat cut in the extreme of the prevailing fashion, and beneath his curly-brimmed hat, Barnabas saw a sallow face with lips a little too heavy, nostrils a little too thin, and eyes a little too close together, at least, so Barnabas thought, but what he noticed more particularly was the fact that one of the buttons of the blue coat had been wrenched away.
Now, as the gentleman lounged there against the tree, he switched languidly at a bluebell that happened to grow within his reach, cut it down, and with gentle, lazy taps beat it slowly into nothingness, which done, he drew out his watch, glanced at it, frowned, and was in the act of thrusting it back into his fob when the hedge opposite was parted suddenly and a man came through. A wretched being he looked, dusty, unkempt, unshorn, whose quick, bright eyes gleamed in the thin oval of his pallid face. At sight of this man the gentleman's lassitude vanished, and he stepped quickly forward.
"Well," he demanded, "did you find her?"
"Yes, sir."
"And a cursed time you've been about it."
"Annersley is further than I thought, sir, and—"
"Pah! no matter, give me her answer," and the gentleman held out a slim white hand.
"She had no time to write, sir," said the man, "but she bid me tell you—"
"Damnation!" exclaimed the gentleman, glancing towards the inn, "not here, come further down the lane," and with the word he turned and strode away, with the man at his heels.
"Annersley," said Barnabas, as he watched them go; "Annersley."
But now, with a prodigious clatter of hoofs and grinding of wheels, the Viscount drove round in his curricle, and drew up before the door in masterly fashion; whereupon the two high-mettled bloods immediately began to rear and plunge (as is the way of their kind), to snort, to toss their sleek heads, and to dance, drumming their hoofs with a sound like a brigade of cavalry at the charge, whereupon the Viscount immediately fell to swearing at them, and his diminutive groom to roaring at them in his "stable voice," and the two ostlers to cursing them, and one another; in the midst of which hubbub out came Barnabas to stare at them with the quick, appraising eye of one who knows and loves horses.
To whom, thusly, the Viscount, speaking both to him and the horses:
"Oh, there you are, Bev—stand still, damn you! There's blood for you, eh, my dear fellow—devil burn your hide! Jump up, my dear fellow—Gad, they're pulling my arms off."
"Then you want me to come with you, Dick?"
"My dear Bev, of course I do—stand still, damn you—though we are rivals, we're friends first—curse your livers and bones—so jump up, Bev, and—oh dammem, there's no holding 'em—quick, up with you."
Now, as Barnabas stepped forward, afar off up the lane he chanced to espy a certain jaunty hat, and immediately, acting for once upon impulse, he shook his head.
"No, thanks," said he.
"Eh—no?" repeated the Viscount, "but you shall see her, I'll introduce you myself."
"Thanks, Dick, but I've decided not to go back."
"What, you won't come then?"
"No."
"Ah, well, we shall meet in London. Inquire for me at White's or
Brooke's, any one will tell you where to find me. Good-by!"
Then, settling his feet more firmly, he took a fresh grip upon the reins, and glanced over his shoulder to where Milo of Crotona sat with folded arms in the rumble.
"All right behind?"
"Right, m'lud."
"Then give 'em their heads, let 'em go!"
The grooms sprang away, the powerful bays reared, once, twice, and
then, with a thunder of hoofs, started away at a gallop that set the
light vehicle rocking and swaying, yet which in no whit seemed to
trouble Milo of Crotona, who sat upon his perch behind with folded
arms as stiff and steady as a small graven image, until he and the
Viscount and the curricle had been whirled into the distance and
vanished in a cloud of dust.
CHAPTER XV
IN WHICH THE PATIENT READER MAY LEARN SOMETHING OF THE GENTLEMAN IN THE JAUNTY HAT
"Lord, but this is a great day for the old 'Cow,' sir," said the landlord, as Barnabas yet stood staring down the road, "we aren't had so many o' the quality here for years. Last night the young Vi-count, this morning, bright and early, Sir Mortimer Carnaby and friend, then the Vi-count again, along o' you, sir, an' now you an' Sir Mortimer's friend; you don't be no ways acquainted wi' Sir Mortimer's friend, be you, sir?"
"No," answered Barnabas, "what is his name?"
