Parson Kelly

by Andrew Lang

  CHAPTER XVI

  MR. WOGAN ACTS AS LIGHTNING-CONDUCTOR AT LADY OXFORD'S ROUT

  Mr. Wogan steered his captive through Petty France. It was about tenof the clock, a night of moonlight and young spring, a night for poetsto praise and lovers to enjoy. Mr. Wogan was not, at the moment, alover, and poetry was out of his mind.

  'One trifle I forgot to mention,' he said. 'I saw Montague come out ofyour new lodgings this evening. He bade his chairmen go to Queen'sSquare.'

  'Montague? How could he know where to look for me? What can he wantwith me?'

  'I misdoubt he was not very well pleased with the ballad, and wouldhave you explain it.'

  'Montague,' sneered Mr. Kelly, with a touch of temper; 'I am grieved Imissed him.'

  'You need not grieve, for you will see him to-night. So there's balmfor your grief, and another reason why you should sup with LadyOxford.'

  The Parson stepped out more briskly after that, and Wogan could notrefrain from remarking upon his new alacrity.

  'It is after all a very human sort of a world, as worlds go,' said he.'Here's a man with all his hopes crumbling to grave-dust about him,and the mere prospect of a quarrel with another man whom he has neverspoken to, on account of a woman he has a great contempt for, willmake all his blood flow quicker.' For it was evident that, though theParson no longer cared a straw for Smilinda's favours, he had notforgiven the man who had supplanted him in them.

  At the further end of the street along which they walked, one housethrew out into the night a great blaze of light, and a noise of manyvoices. As Wogan perceived it, a certain improvement upon his plancame into his head.

  'George,' said he, as he directed his captive towards the house, 'willyou resolve me a theological quandary? Do the doctors of your sectconsider as binding a promise given to a person of a different faith?'

  'Assuredly they do,' cried Kelly. 'Dr. Hooker plainly writes--'

  'I shall take your word for it, without Hooker's bond. Next, does yourReverence reckon it immoral to shake an elbow on occasion?'

  'Even the very Puritans, at the height of their power, doubted if theycould proceed against dicers by way of the greater excommunication. Weread that the Chosen People themselves cast lots--whence I argue for apermitted latitude.'

  'Well, then, we are opposite the doors of Le Queux's Temple of Hazard;you may hear through the windows how the devout are calling the main.Now I must take your promise, as you say it is binding, to wait herein obedience to your commanding officer. A wise leader will ever sendout scouts to inspect a dangerous pass. I shall reconnoitre at LadyOxford's: proper precautions should never be neglected, even in afriendly country. If I do not return, or send, in forty minutes byyour watch, you must follow. All will seem safe.'

  'But, Nick, what if they take you? Sure we had best go together.'

  'They will not arrest me alone. You don't loose your gun at a rabbitwhen you are stalking a deer. I am not the keeper of secrets, but theKing's mere servant, to give knocks and to take them. I write noletters, and none write them to me. It is Mr. Johnson they will bestalking, if anyone at all, never fear, and they will not shoot at therabbit whilst Mr. Johnson is out of gunshot. In the meantime, have youany money?'

  'Just enough to pay my chairmen.'

  Mr. Wogan turned his pockets inside out.

  'Then here are ten guineas. In my belief our luck must be somewhere,if a man would look for it, and it may very well be lurking in thecavern of a dice-box. Lose or win, if you hear nothing of me, youmarch forwards and occupy Queen's Square in forty minutes. It is teno'clock now. And if you do not join me in forty minutes I walkstraight to your lodgings and take my chance.'

  'So be it,' said Kelly, pocketing Mr. Wogan's gold, and steppingreluctantly into the house of Le Queux. Mr. Wogan waited until thedoor closed upon him, and then went on his way alone to Queen'sSquare.

  He had not displayed the whole face of his purpose to the Parson. Itwas not merely to reconnoitre that he pushed forward. The Parson mightdesire an occasion with the Colonel, but Wogan, for Miss Townley'ssake, meant to meet the Colonel first. Betrothed men should not bebrawlers, and George was hardly a match for the Colonel.

  The Colonel was not, in the nature of things, likely to feelwell-disposed towards the Parson. The ballad would have turned thatill-disposition into a genuine hostility. So here was one of thereasons, besides the wish to reconnoitre, why Wogan left hisfriend behind him in Le Queux's gaming-rooms. He would be thelightning-conductor; he would pick a quarrel with the Colonel beforeMr. Kelly arrived, if by any means that could be brought about.

  Mr. Wogan stopped in the shadow a few yards from Lady Oxford's house,and watched. It was a night of triumph for Lady Oxford. A score or soof link-boys yelled and flashed their torches about the portico;carriages and chairs pressed towards the door. Gentlemen with starsupon their velvet coats, and ladies altogether swaddled in lace andhoops thronged up the steps. But of the possible messengers for whomMr. Wogan looked, not one was to be seen in any corner. Timidityitself might have slept secure. Only a few ragged loiterers stoodabout in the roadway on the look-out for a lace handkerchief or aconvenient pocket. Wogan crossed the road and joined the throng uponthe stairs.

  He had carried it off boldly enough at the Deanery, and in the streetwith Kelly, but, as he walked on alone, the fumes of the Florence wineescaped from the seat of his reasoning faculties. His logic did notseem so conclusive, and he felt an ugly double-edge on some of hisarguments. Thus, the plot had certainly been discovered, yet Kelly hadnot been pounced upon. This might be a generosity of Mr. Scrope's (whohad behaved as handsomely before), but again, what if Mr. Kelly'sfirst suspicions were true? What if Lady Oxford had learned something?What if this rout were intended to enable her to savour her revengefor the ballad? The thing was not beyond Wogan's power of belief, andthe more he gazed on this perspective, the less he enjoyed it. Underher roof, however, for the sake of her own credit, Kelly and he mustbe safe from arrest. Besides it might be that her Ladyship wasignorant of the ballad. Reflecting on these doubts, and thankful forthis tender mercy, Wogan's heart was ill at ease, though he put on aface of brass. The chatter which buzzed at his inattentive ears seemedthe most impertinent thing in the world. At each step a floweredpetticoat swung against his legs, or a fan, held by a hand in aperfumed glove, knocked against his elbow, and somehow the finegentlemen and ladies in their fine clothes seemed to him at thatmoment as incongruous as a nightmare. Scraps of gossip of which hetook no note at the time, for no reason whatever stuck in his mind,and he remembered them quite clearly afterwards; how that LadyHolderness was sunk in all the joys of love, notwithstanding shewanted the use of her two hands by a rheumatism; and Mrs. Hervey,_revenue_ from such bagatelles as honour and reputation, had taken toherself two most fascinating lovers, and all the envy of her sex. Ashrill lady behind Mr. Wogan's shoulder was proposing a general actfor divorcing all the people of England, so that those who pleasedmight marry again, whereby many reputations which stood in dire perilwould be saved from exposure. Mr. Wogan had much ado not to shout'Hold your tongues, will you? Here, maybe, is life and death in thebalance.'

  He had got about half-way up the stairs when the shrill voice changedits tune, and now Mr. Wogan pricked up his ears.

  'You have heard the new ballad? Oh, the sweetest, most maliciousthing. You must certainly hear it. Smilinda, the Parson, and theColonel. You know who Smilinda is? The Parson and the Colonel make aguess easy.' She quoted a line or two. 'It appears that the Parson hasconsoled himself with Rose, and snaps his fingers at Smilinda. Whowrote it? No one but Smilinda's dear friend, Lady Mary WortleyMontagu, that I will wager. 'Tis the most ingenious thing; and mostingeniously given to the town just at the time when it will stingmost. Poor Smilinda.' The voice went off into a giggle, in the midstof which Mr. Wogan distinguished a name--Lord Sidney Beauclerk's. Mr.Wogan would hardly have heeded the name had he not heard it againtwice before he reached the
stairhead, and each time in that sameconjunction with the Parson and the Colonel, and the malicious aptnessof the ballad. Even then he gave but scanty heed to Lord SidneyBeauclerk, for the knowledge that the ballad was indeed become thecommon talk occupied his thoughts, and so thoroughly, that it was thenearest thing imaginable but he gave his name as Mr. Wogan to thelackey who announced him.

  Mr. Hilton, however, was announced, and Mr. Hilton stepped through thegreat doorway into the room, and made his bow. At the first he wassensible only of a great blaze of light spotted here and there withthe flames of candles; of a floor polished like a mirror, of a throngof misty faces, a hubbub of voices, and a gorgeous motley of colourslike the Turkish bazaars Lady Mary was used to describe. Then thefaces grew distinct. Mr. Wogan noticed one or two of the _honest_party, who, knowing his incognito, threw a startled glance at him, andlike the rats from the sinking ship, scuttled away as soon as his eyesmet theirs.

  He looked around him for Lady Oxford. He could not see her in thecrowd which ebbed and flowed about the floor. There were card tablesset against the walls; doubtless she would be seated at one of them.He glanced down the line of tables to his left. He did not see LadyOxford, but his attention was seized by one particular table. It stoodempty; a few packs of cards waited upon it for the players to handle,but by some strange chance it stood empty. It was the one vacant tablein the room.

  Mr. Wogan was an Irishman, and now and again had his visionarymoments, though he said little about them. As he looked at that oneempty table a queer sort of fancy crept into his head, and, to befrank, struck something of a chill into his veins. It came upon himslowly that the table was not in truth empty at all; that in the midstof this velvet company, all jewels and compliments, there sat at thistable a grey shrouded figure which silently awaited its player.

  Mr. Wogan was roused by a touch on his elbow.

  'Mr. Hilton?'

  Mr. Hilton saw a dapper, young gentleman at his side who looked likenothing so much as a tangle of ribbons swept up from a milliner'sshop.

  'To be sure,' said Wogan.

  'Her ladyship sits yonder.'

  Mr. Wogan looked. Her ladyship sat with her back towards him at thetable nearest to that which stood empty. She had been screened fromhis sight by the young gentleman now at his elbow. As Wogan looked,Lady Oxford turned with an anxious smile and a glance beyond hisshoulder. The smile, the glance braced Mr. Wogan. For doubtless herladyship looked to discover whether the Parson followed in his steps.

  He approached Lady Oxford. By her side sat Colonel Montague, black asthunder, and with a certain uneasy air of humiliation, like a man thatfinds himself ridiculously placed, and yet has not the courage tomove. Mr. Wogan was encouraged; he could have wished the Colonel in noother mood. Mr. Wogan suddenly understood that it was himself who wascast to play with the shrouded figure, and the stake was the privilegeof crossing swords with Montague.

  From the Colonel his eye strayed to a youth who stood by Lady Oxford'schair, and the sight of him clean took Wogan's breath away. It was notmerely his face, though even in that bright company he shone a planetamong stars. Nature, indeed, thought Wogan, must have robbed a goodmany women of their due share of looks before she compounded so muchbeauty in the making of one man. But even more remarkable than hisbeauty was his extraordinary likeness to Wogan's King. At the firstglance Wogan would have sworn that this youth was the King, grownyounger, but that he knew his Majesty was at Antwerp waiting for theBlow to fall. At the second, however, he remarked a difference. Theyouth had the haunting eyes of the Stuarts, only they were lit withgaiety and sparkled with success; he had the clear delicate featuresof the Stuarts, only they were rounded out of their rueful length, andin place of a sad gravity, were bright with a sunny contentment.Misfortune had cast no shadows upon the face, had dug no hollows aboutthe eyes.

  Lady Oxford spoke to this paragon, smiled at him, drooped towards him.The Colonel shifted a foot, set his lips tight and frowned.

  Wogan placed a hand upon his guide's sleeve.

  'Will you tell me, if you please, the name of her ladyship's newfriend?'

  The young gentleman stared at Wogan.

  'Let me perish, Mr. Hilton, but you are strangely out of the fashion.Or is it wit thus to affect an ignorance of our new conqueror, forwhom women pine with love and men grow sour with envy? But indeed itis wit--the most engaging pleasantry. 'Twill make your reputation, Mr.Hilton.'

  'It is pure ignorance,' interrupted Wogan curtly.

  'Indeed? But I cannot bring myself to believe it.' He stared at Woganas though he was gazing at one of Dr. Swift's Yahoos. 'Slit my weazandif I can. Sir, he is the gold leaf upon the pill of the world. For hissake dowagers mince in white and silver, and at times he has to taketo his bed to protect himself from their assiduities.'

  'He has a dangerous face for these times,' again Mr. Wogan broke in.

  'Blame his grandmother for that, Mr. Hilton; he is of the royal blood.Nell Gwynn of pious memory gave his father birth. Our last Charles washis grandsire; he hath Queen Mary's eyes. It is Lord SidneyBeauclerk.'

  'I thought as much. He is a very intimate friend of her ladyship's?'

  'Mr. Hilton, the world is very _grossier_,' remarked his guide, with asmirk.

  Mr. Wogan could have laughed. He understood why the Colonel looked soblack, why the ballad was so maliciously apt, why my Lord SidneyBeauclerk was coupled with the Parson and the Colonel in the commontalk. Her ladyship was taking a new lover. Colonel Montague was thecrumpled ribbon that has done good service but is tossed into thecupboard to make way for fresher colours. The ballad was apt indeed.Mr. Wogan's spirits rose with a bound. Sure here was an occasion forpicking a quarrel with the Colonel ready to his hand. He bowed verylow to her ladyship. Her ladyship went on punting.

  Colonel Montague looked at him, and then looked at him again with thesame perplexity which Mr. Wogan had found so distasteful one eveningin St. James's Street three years before; but he said nothing. Herladyship laid down a card and gave Mr. Wogan a hand, which he kissedwith proper ceremony.

  'You have come late, Mr. Hilton,' she said; 'and you have come, itseems--alone?'

  'Madam,' replied Wogan, with a glance of great sympathy towards theColonel, and in his softest brogue, 'men are born to loneliness as thesparks fly upward.'

  The Colonel took his meaning, and his face flushed. Wogan's spiritsrose higher. If only Montague was strung to the same pitch ofexasperation and injury as the Parson had been in the likecircumstances! The supposition seemed probable. Mr. Wogan could haverubbed his hands in sheer content. The Colonel, however, made norejoinder, and Mr. Wogan had to amuse himself by watching the play.

  It was little amusement, however, that Mr. Wogan got; on the contrary,as he watched, his fears returned to him. Her ladyship was evidentlyin something of a flutter. She did not show her usual severe attentionto the game. Now she called her black boy Sambo to bring her fan; nowshe would pat her spaniel; now she would gaze through the crowd ofperruques and laces towards the door. Her smile was fixed even whenshe paid her losses, and that was not her way, she being a bad loser.She was watching for someone, and that someone without a doubt was Mr.Kelly. Wogan could not but ask himself with what intention shewatched. Her ladyship was taking a new lover, and for that reason theballad struck her hard--if she knew of it. Smilinda was not thewoman to forgive the blow. She would assuredly blame Kelly for theballad--if she knew of it. Had she lured him here to strike back? Sheturned once more to Mr. Wogan, as though she would put some questionto him; but, before she could open her lips, a name was bawled up thestairs, and a sudden hush fell upon the room. The throng in thedoorway dissolved as if by magic, and between the doorway and LadyOxford's chair a clear path was drawn. The name was Lady Mary WortleyMontagu's. Everyone then knew of the ballad and laid it at Lady Mary'sdoor. Everyone? Mr. Wogan asked himself. Did Lady Oxford know?

  Montague frowned and drummed with his knuckles on the table; it wasthe only sound heard in the room. Then Lord Sidney noisily
thrust backhis chair, and, stepping past Lady Oxford, stood in the open spacebetween her and the door with a frank boyish championship for whichMr. Wogan at once pitied and liked him.

  The name was passed up the stairs from lackey to lackey, growinglouder with each repetition. The silence was followed by a quickmovement which ran through the room like a ripple across a pool, aseach head was turned towards Lady Oxford to note how she would bearherself. She rose, the radiant goddess of hospitality.

  'There is no striving, Colonel Montague, against this run of luck,'she said, with the most natural ease; 'but my dear Lady Mary is cometo save me from ruin. Mrs. Hewett,' she turned to her opposite, 'willyou be tallier to our table? The bank is open to a bidder. No? Ah!'and she took a step forwards to where her champion was standing apart,his hand on his hip, his face raised, ready to encounter even sodangerous an antagonist as Lady Mary, 'my Lord Sidney Beauclerk, youare not afraid?' He looked at her, from her to the door. 'I am yourservant,' said she, with her eyelids half-closed over her eyes, 'yourgrateful servant,' and she motioned him to the table; 'for, being awoman, I positively die to hear what new scandal dear Lady Mary hasset on foot.'

  She spoke with an affectionate compassion for Lady Mary's foible andan air of innocence which quite took aback the most part of herguests. Mr. Wogan, however, was better acquainted with her ladyship'sresources, and, wishing to know for certain whether Lady Oxford knewof the ballad;

  'I can satisfy your ladyship's curiosity,' he said bluntly; and withthat the noise of the room sank to silence again. He was stillstanding by the card-table. Lady Oxford turned about to him somethingquickly. It may be she was disconcerted, or that anger got the upperhand with her. At all events, for an instant she dropped the mask. Shegave Wogan one look; he never remembers, in all the strange incidentsof his life, to have seen eyes so hard, so cold, and so cruel, or aface so venomous. In a second the look was gone, and the prettiestsmile of inquiry was softening about her mouth. 'There is a new poem,is there not, from Lady Mary's kind muse?' said Wogan.

  'A new poem!' cried she. 'Let us hear it, I pray. It would be theworst of ill-breeding had I not knowledge enough to congratulate myfriend. The happy subject of the poem, Mr. Hilton?'

  Lady Oxford took a step towards him. She was all courtesy andpoliteness, but Mr. Wogan, while he recognised her bravery, had herlook of a second ago very distinct before his eyes, and was in no moodfor pity. He bowed with no less courtesy.

  'It is thought to be an allegory,' he said, 'wherein the arm of fleshis preferred before a spiritual--Blade.

  The rejoinder, as it seemed, was approved, for the ladies whisperedbehind their fans, and here and there a man checked a laugh. LadyOxford met the thrust with all the appearances of unconcern.

  'And tagged with Latin, Mr. Hilton?' she asked. That was enough forMr. Wogan. Lady Oxford knew the ballad, and gave it to Lady Mary.Without a doubt she must believe Mr. Kelly supplied Lady Mary with thematter of it. 'Of a truth the ballad will' be tagged with Latin. SureLady Mary has scholars enough among her friends who would not let herwit go naked when a scrap of Latin could cover it decently--indeed,too decently at times, for, though we always see the Latin, one ishard put to it now and then to discover the wit. Do you not think so,Mr.--Hilton?' She paused ever so slightly before the name, and ever soslightly drawled it, with just a hint of menace in her accent. Mr.Hilton, none the less, got a clear enough knowledge of the dangerousgame he was playing. Lady Oxford had but to say 'Mr. Wogan,' and itwould not be Mr. Wogan who would have the chance of playing a handwith the figure at the empty table.

  Lady Mary's name was now called out from the doorway, and Mr. Woganwas glad enough to leave the encounter to her worthier hands. LadyMary sailed into the room; Lady Oxford swam forwards to meet her. Thetwo ladies dissolved almost in smiles and courtesies.

  'We were in despair, dearest Lady Mary; we feared you would baulk usof your company. France, they said, was happy in your sunshine.'

  'France, madam?' asked Lady Mary.

  'It was your dear friend, Mr. Pope, who said you had withdrawnthither--la, in the strangest hurry!'

  'Indeed, very like! I denied Mr. Pope my door two days ago, and hisvanity could only conceive I was gone abroad.'

  'Your ladyship was wise. A poet's tongue wags most indiscreetly. Notthat anyone believes those fanciful creatures. A romance of a--a M.Remond for whom you should have placed money in the sinking South Sea;the Frenchman arriving in London in a hurry; Lady Mary in a hurryarriving in France; a kind of country dance figure of partnerscrossing. A story indubitably false, to the knowledge of all yourladyship's friends, as I took occasion to say at more than one housewhere the rumour was put about.'

  Lady Oxford had scored the first point in the game, as Wogan reckonedand marked 'Fifteen--love' with chagrin. However, he took somecomfort from Lady Mary's face, which was grown dangerously sweet andgood-natured. Nor was his confidence vain, for Lady Mary did more thanhold her ground.

  'Your ladyship's good will,' said she, 'is my sufficient defence. MyLord Oxford is here? It is long since I paid him my respects.'

  'Alas, my dear Lord has lain these last six weeks at Brampton Bryan,'sighed Lady Oxford, 'with a monstrous big toe all swathed in flannel.Your ladyship, I fear, can only greet my husband by proxy.'

  There was just a sparkle of triumph in Lady Mary's eyes.

  'By proxy!' she said; 'with all the willingness in the world;' and sheswept a courtesy to Colonel Montague, who was coming forward to jointhem.

  Lady Oxford flirted her fan before her face.

  A murmur almost of applause ran from group to group of the company.

  Mr. Wogan, who loved the game of tennis, marked 'Fifteen--all.'

  At that moment a clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the half-hour. Infifteen minutes the Parson would arrive, and Mr. Wogan had not playedhis hand. He moved a few yards from the table at which Lord SidneyBeauclerk, with his eyes upon Lady Oxford, was dealing the cards, andstood apart by the empty table, wondering how he should do. He pickedup a pack of cards idly, and Lady Mary spoke again to Lady Oxford:

  'I interrupted your ladyship's game.'

  'Nay, your coming was the most welcome diversion. Colonel Montague,'said Lady Oxford, as she was gliding back to her table, 'shared mybank, and played with the worst of luck. I declare the Colonel hasruined me;' and so retired out of range of Lady Mary's guns.

  The Colonel followed Lady Oxford. Lady Mary turned to Mr. Wogan, andin a voice loud enough for others than Mr. Wogan to hear:

  'What!' said she, 'was Lady Oxford ruined by Colonel Montague? I didnot think their acquaintance was of so old a standing.'

  'Thirty--fifteen,' said Mr. Wogan in an abstraction.

  Lady Mary stared.

  'I was but marking the game and scoring points to your ladyship,'Wogan said.

  Colonel Montague had heard Lady Mary's sally, for he stopped. LordSidney Beauclerk had heard it, for he rose as though to mark hisdisbelief, and handed Lady Oxford to her chair with a sort of air ofprotection very pretty in the boy. It seemed, indeed, as though evenLady Oxford was touched, for her face was half turned towards Mr.Wogan, and he saw it soften with something like pity and her eyes swamfor an instant in tears. It was new, no doubt, for the spider to feelcompassion for the fly, but Mr. Wogan was not altogether surprised,for he began to find the fly very much to his own taste. It was aclean-limbed, generous lad, that looked mighty handsome in the braveryof his pink satin coat, and without one foppish affectation from histop-knot to his shoe-buckles.

  Mr. Wogan was still holding the pack of cards in his hands.

  'You have a mind to play? 'asked Lady Mary.

  Wogan looked at the clock. He had only fifteen minutes for hisbusiness as lightning conductor. In fifteen minutes the Parson wouldbe here.

  'If you will present me to the player I have a mind to play with,'said he, dropping the pack on the table.

  'With all my heart,' said she; 'name him.'

  'Colonel Montague.'

&nbs
p; Her ladyship looked at Wogan doubtfully, and beckoned the Colonel withher fan. The Colonel, who had his own feud with Lady Mary over thesupposed authorship of the ballad, made as though he had not seen hersummons. Lady Mary repeated it with no better result, and finally tooka step or two towards him. Montague could no longer affect tomisunderstand.

  'I wish to present you to a friend,' she said, as Colonel Montaguejoined her.

  'If your ladyship will excuse me,' said the Colonel coldly, 'I have notaste for the acquaintance of Irish adventurers.'

  Mr. Wogan was not out of earshot, and laughed gleefully as he caughtthe insult. Here was his opportunity, come in the nick of time.

  'Did anyone mention me?' he said pleasantly, as he came round thecard-table. But before the Colonel could answer, or Lady Maryinterfere, the servant at the door announced:

  'Dr. and Miss Townley!'

  Wogan's heart gave a leap. He swore beneath his breath.

  'Miss Townley?' asked her ladyship, who had caught his oath.

  'Is Rose, _the_ Rose,' replied Wogan.

  Lady Mary knew the ballad, knew who Rose was, and looked perplexed asto why Lady Oxford had asked the girl. Mr. Wogan, on the other hand,was no longer perplexed at all. His doubt was now a certainty. LadyOxford had prepared a scenic revenge, a _coup de theater_. To thisend, and to prove her ignorance of the ballad, she had invited Kelly,Montague, and Rose.

  Of the _coup de theater_ her ladyship had got more than she bargainedfor. On her bosom Miss Townley wore diamonds that caught the eye evenin that Aladdin's treasure house of shining stones, and among thediamonds the portrait of Lady Oxford. Her ladyship saw it, and grewwhite as marble. Miss Townley saw Lady Oxford, knew the face of theminiature that she had thought was the Queen's, and blushed like thedawn. Her hand flew to her neck as she courtesied deep to LadyOxford's courtesy; when she rose, by some miracle of female skill, theminiature and the diamonds had vanished. Rising at the same moment,Lady Oxford looked herself again. But the women understood each othernow, and, as they purred forth their _politesses_, Wogan knew that thebuttons were off the foils.

  He had his own game to play, that would brook no waiting, and heplayed it without pause. Lady Mary had moved towards the door. ColonelMontague was gliding back to his old position near Lord Sidney. Woganfollowed Colonel Montague and stopped him.

  'Sir,' said he, in a low brogue, 'I fancied that I caught a littleword of yours that reflected on me counthry and me honour.'

  'For your country, sir,' replied the Colonel politely, 'your speechbewrayeth you, but the habitation of your honour is less discernible.'

  ''Faith, Colonel,' said Wogan, who found his plan answering to hishighest expectations, 'you are so ready with your tongue that youmight be qualifying for an Irishman. Doubtless you are as ready totake a quiet little walk, in which case I shall be most happy to showyou where my honour inhabits. But, to speak the plain truth, it issomewhat too near the point of my sword to make Lady Oxford'sdrawing-room a convenient place for the exhibition.'

  Colonel Montague smiled at the pleasantry in an agreeable way whichquite went to Wogan's heart.

  'With all the goodwill imaginable,' said he, 'I will take that walkwith you to-morrow,' and he made a bow and turned away.

  'But Colonel,' said Wogan in some disappointment, 'why not to-night?'

  'There are certain formalities. For instance, I was not fortunateenough to catch your name.'

  ''Tis as ancient as any in Ireland,' cried Wogan, in a heat, quiteforgetting his incognito. 'My forefathers--'

  'Ah, sir, they were kings, no doubt,' interrupted Montague with thegravest politeness.

  'No, sir, viceroys only,' answered Wogan with indifference, 'up toEdward I.'

  'Your Highness,' said the Colonel, and he bowed to the ground, 'Ireckon to-morrow a more suitable time.'

  Mr. Wogan was tickled out of his ill-humour, and began to warm to theman.

  'Sure, Colonel, you and I will be the best of good friends after Ihave killed you, and for the love of mercy let that be to-night.Look!' and stepping to the window he drew aside the curtain. 'Look,'said he, peering out, 'it is the sweetest moonlight that ever kissed asword-blade! Oh, to-night, Colonel!' Then he dropped the curtainsomething suddenly. He had seen a face in the street. 'You prefersunlight? Very well, sir. But you will acknowledge that to-morrow Ihave the _earliest_ claims on your leisure.'

  Colonel Montague bowed.

  'The word, you will remember, was an Irish adventurer.' Woganimpressed it upon him.

  'Sir, I am wedded to the phrase. You will send your friend to mylodgings at Mrs. Kilburne's, in Ryder Street.'

  'Mrs. Kilburne's!' exclaimed Wogan.

  Wogan might have guessed as much had he used his brains. It was at thecorner of Ryder Street that he had plumped upon Montague when he camedown to London from Glenshiel. It was under a portico in Ryder Streetthat the Parson and he had seen Montague on the night they had drivenout on the first journey to Brampton Bryan. It was at Mrs. Kilburne'sdoor that Wogan had seen Montague that afternoon. The Colonel was herfine gentleman upon the first floor. Sure, the Parson had the worstluck in the world. At all events, the Colonel was a gentleman. Woganconsoled himself with that reflection as he thought of Mr. Kelly'sdespatch box in the scrutoire of his parlour below the Colonel'srooms.

  That thought led Wogan's eyes again to the clock. It was half an hourpast ten. The Parson was due in ten minutes.

  'Good-bye t'ye, Colonel,' he said hastily to Montague, as he turnedtowards the door. He almost knocked against Rose, who was standingclose by his elbow. She made an effort to detain him; he breathed aword of apology. It did not occur to him then that she might haveoverheard his conversation with the Colonel. He hurried past LadyOxford and Dr. Townley, who was talking of his schooldays, when heknew Lord Oxford.

  'Mr. Hilton,' cried her ladyship. Mr. Hilton was deaf as a bed-post.For when he had looked out of the window at the moonlight he had seena face in the roadway of which the Parson should have knowledge beforehe reached the house. It was that face which had made him drop thecurtain so quickly and fall in so quickly with the Colonel'sobjections. A link-boy's torch had flashed for a second upon a man onthe other side of the road, and his face was Scrope's. Scrope waswatching the house.

  Wogan pressed through the throng towards the door, but before he couldreach it a firm hand closed upon his arm. He looked round. Lord SidneyBeauclerk was standing by his side with a flushed, angry face.

  'A word with you, Mr. Hilton!'

  'A hundred, my lord, in half an hour,' said Wogan, and shook himselffree. He must warn the Parson and turn him back from the house. But hewas too late. In the doorway of the house he met Mr. Kelly, whose facewore a singular air of content. And on the other side of the roadstood Scrope with his head turned towards the doorway. Scrope knewthat the Parson had come.

  Mr. Wogan took Kelly's arm, and led him to the shady side of thestreet, out of the noisy crowd of lackeys and link-boys.

  'Those divines err,' said Kelly, 'who condemn the occasional castingof lots. It is not an ill game.'

  'Then you found our lurking luck?'

  'Six rouleaux of gold,' said Mr. Kelly, tenderly caressing his pocket.

  'The sinews of war, and we are like to need them.'

  'Then the coast is not clear?'

  'Clear!' said Wogan, 'there is every sign of thunder, wind, andearthquake. First, Montague is here!'

  'And here is his Capulet!' said Kelly smiling.

  Wogan smiled too, having secured his duel with the Colonel.

  'Then Miss Townley is here, and, George, she was wearing my lady'sminiature. The women know each other.'

  George's mouth opened, and his utterance was stayed. Then,

  'It is a trap. I go home,' he said. Despair spoke in his voice.

  'No!' Mr. Wogan's plans had changed.

  'Why not? I have no more to lose, and my duty to do.'

  'You do not go home, for Scrope is watching the house. He has seen youcome. He is behind us
now.' Mr. Kelly's hand went to his sword, butWogan checked him. 'Don't let him think you know. We must leave thehouse together, and your duty is to be just now where Miss Townley is.Be quick!'

  The argument had weight with Mr. Kelly. Wogan had his reasons foradvancing it. If they went away together, later, Wogan could engageMr. Scrope's attentions while the Parson went safely on to RyderStreet. The two passed out of the shade, but not before George hadplaced his hand in Wogan's. His hand was cold as ice.