The Castle Inn

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CUTTING FOR THE QUEEN

  It was a suggestion so purely in the spirit of a day when men betted onevery contingency, public or private, decorous or the reverse, from thefecundity of a sister to the longevity of a sire, that it sounded lessindecent in the cars of Lord Almeric's companions than it does in ours.Mr. Thomasson indeed, who was only so far a gamester as every man whohad pretensions to be a gentleman was one at that time, and who hadseldom, since the days of Lady Harrington's faro bank, staked more thanhe could afford, hesitated and looked dubious. But Mr. Pomeroy, areckless and hardened gambler, gave a boisterous assent, and in the faceof that the tutor's objections went for nothing. In a trice, all thecards and half the glasses were swept pell mell to the floor, a new packwas torn open, the candles were snuffed, and Mr. Pomeroy, smacking himon the back, was bidding him draw up.

  'Sit down, man! Sit down!' cried that gentleman, who had regained hisjovial humour as quickly as he had lost it, and whom the prospect of thestake appeared to intoxicate. 'May I burn if I ever played for a girlbefore! Hang it! man, look cheerful, We'll toast her first--and adaintier bit never swam in a bowl--and play for her afterwards! Come, noheel-taps, my lord. Drink her! Drink her! Here's to the Mistress ofBastwick!'

  'Lady Almeric Doyley!' my lord cried, rising, and bowing with his handto his heart, while he ogled the door through which she had disappeared.'I drink you! Here's to your pretty face, my dear!'

  'Mrs. Thomasson!' cried the tutor, 'I drink to you. But--'

  'But what shall it be, you mean?' Pomeroy cried briskly. 'Loo, Quinze,Faro, Lansquenet? Or cribbage, all-fours, put, Mr. Parson, if you like!It's all one to me. Name your game and I am your man!'

  'Then let us shuffle and cut, and the highest takes,' said the tutor.

  'Sho! man, where is the sport in that?' Pomeroy cried, receiving thesuggestion with disgust.

  'It is what Lord Almeric proposed,' Mr. Thomasson answered. The twoglasses of wine he had taken had given him courage. 'I am no player, andat games of skill I am no match for you.'

  A shadow crossed Mr. Pomeroy's face; but he recovered himselfimmediately. 'As you please,' he said, shrugging his shoulders with ashow of carelessness. 'I'll match any man at anything. Let's to it!'

  But the tutor kept his hands on the cards, which lay in a heap facedownwards on the table. 'There is a thing to be settled,' he said,hesitating somewhat, 'before we draw. If she will not take thewinner--what then?'

  'What then?'

  'Yes, what then?'

  Mr. Pomeroy grinned. 'Why, then number two will try his luck with her,and if he fail, number three! There, my bully boy, that is settled. Itseems simple enough, don't it?'

  'But how long is each to have?' the tutor asked in a low voice. Thethree were bending over the cards, their faces near one another. LordAlmeric's eyes turned from one to the other of the speakers.

  'How long?' Mr. Pomeroy answered, raising his eyebrows. 'Ah. Well,let's say--what do you think? Two days?'

  'And if the first fail, two days for the second?'

  'There will be no second if I am first,' Pomeroy answered grimly.

  'But otherwise,' the tutor persisted; 'two days for the second?'

  Bully Pomeroy nodded.

  'But then, the question is, can we keep her here?'

  'Four days?'

  'Yes.'

  Mr. Pomeroy laughed harshly. 'Ay,' he said, 'or six if needs be and Ilose. You may leave that to me. We'll shift her to the nurseryto-morrow.'

  'The nursery?' my lord said, and stared.

  'The windows are barred. Now do you understand?'

  The tutor turned a shade paler, and his eyes sank slyly to the table.'There'll--there'll be no violence, of course,' he said, his voice atrifle unsteady.

  'Violence? Oh, no, there will be no violence,' Mr. Pomeroy answered withan unpleasant sneer. And they all laughed; Mr. Thomasson tremulously,Lord Almeric as if he scarcely entered into the other's meaning andlaughed that he might not seem outside it. Then, 'There is another thingthat must not be,' Pomeroy continued, tapping softly on the table withhis forefinger, as much to command attention as to emphasise his words,'and that is peaching! Peaching! We'll have no Jeremy Twitcher here, ifyou please.'

  'No, no!' Mr. Thomasson stammered. 'Of course not.'

  'No, damme!' said my lord grandly. 'No peaching!'

  'No,' Mr. Pomeroy said, glancing keenly from one to the other, 'and bytoken I have a thought that will cure it. D'ye see here, my lord! Whatdo you say to the losers taking five thousand each out of Madam's money?That should bind all together if anything will--though I say it thatwill have to pay it,' he continued boastfully.

  My lord was full of admiration. 'Uncommon handsome!' he said. 'Pom, thatdoes you credit. You have a head! I always said you had a head!'

  'You are agreeable to that, my lord?'

  'Burn me, if I am not.'

  'Then shake hands upon it. And what say you, Parson?'

  Mr. Thomasson proffered an assent fully as enthusiastic as LordAlmeric's, but for a different reason. The tutor's nerves, never strong,were none the better for the rough treatment he had undergone, his longdrive, and his longer fast. He had taken enough wine to obscure remoterterrors, but not the image of Mr. Dunborough--_impiger, iracundus,inexorabilis, acer_--Dunborough doubly and trebly offended! That imagerecurred when the glass was not at his lips; and behind it, sometimesthe angry spectre of Sir George, sometimes the face of the girl, blazingwith rage, slaying him with the lightning of her contempt.

  He thought that it would not suit him ill, therefore, though it was asacrifice, if Mr. Pomeroy took the fortune, the wife, and the risk--andfive thousand only fell to him. True, the risk, apart from that of Mr.Dunborough's vengeance, might be small; no one of the three had had actor part in the abduction of the girl. True, too, in the atmosphere ofthis unfamiliar house--into which he had been transported as suddenly asBedreddin Hassan to the palace in the fairy tale--with the fumes of wineand the glamour of beauty in his head, he was in a mood to minimise eventhat risk. But under the jovial good-fellowship which Mr. Pomeroyaffected, and strove to instil into the party, he discerned at oddmoments a something sinister that turned his craven heart to water andloosened the joints of his knees.

  The lights and cards and jests, the toasts and laughter were a mask thatsometimes slipped and let him see the death's head that grinned behindit. They were three men, alone with the girl in a country house, ofwhich the reputation, Mr. Thomasson had a shrewd idea, was no betterthan its master's. No one outside knew that she was there; as far as herfriends were concerned, she had vanished from the earth. She was awoman, and she was in their power. What was to prevent them bending herto their purpose?

  It is probable that had she been of their rank from the beginning, bredand trained, as well as born, a Soane, it would not have occurred evento a broken and desperate man to frame so audacious a plan. Butscruples grew weak, and virtue--the virtue of Vauxhall and themasquerades--languished where it was a question of a woman who a monthbefore had been fair game for undergraduate gallantry, and who nowcarried fifty thousand pounds in her hand.

  Mr. Pomeroy's next words showed that this aspect of the case was in hismind. 'Damme, she ought to be glad to marry any one of us!' he said, ashe packed the cards and handed them to the others that each mightshuffle them. 'If she is not, the worse for her! We'll put her on breadand water until she sees reason!'

  'D'you think Dunborough knew, Tommy?' said Lord Almeric, grinning at thethought of his friend's disappointment. 'That she had the money?'

  Dunborough's name turned the tutor grave. He shook his head.

  'He'll be monstrous mad! Monstrous!' Lord Almeric said with a chuckle;the wine he had drunk was beginning to affect him. 'He has paid thepostboys and we ride. Well, are you ready? Ready all? Hallo! Who is todraw first?'

  'Let's draw for first,' said Mr. Pomeroy. 'All together!'

  'All together!'

  'For it's hey, derry down, and it's
over the lea. And it's out with the fox in the dawning!'

  sang my lord in an uncertain voice. And then, 'Lord! I've a d----ddeuce! Tommy has it! Tommy's Pam has it! No, by Gad! Pomeroy, you havewon it! Your Queen takes!'

  'And I shall take the Queen!' quoth Mr. Pomeroy. Then ceremoniously, 'Myfirst draw, I think?'

  'Yes,' said Mr. Thomasson nervously.

  'Yes,' said Lord Almeric, gloating with flushed face on the blind backsof the cards as they lay in a long row before him. 'Draw away!'

  'Then here's for a wife and five thousand a year!' cried Pomeroy. 'One,two, three--oh, hang and sink the cards!' he continued with a violentexecration, as he flung down the card he had drawn. 'Seven's the main! Ihave no luck! Now, Mr. Parson, get on! Can you do better?'

  Mr. Thomasson, a damp flush on his brow, chose his card gingerly, andturned it with trembling fingers. Mr. Pomeroy greeted it with a savageoath, Lord Almeric with a yell of tipsy laughter. It was an eight.

  'It is bad to be crabbed, but to be crabbed by a smug like you!' Mr.Pomeroy cried churlishly. Then, 'Go on, man!' he said to his lordship.'Don't keep us all night.'

  Lord Almeric, thus adjured, turned a card with a flourish. It was aKing!

  'Fal-lal-lal, lal-lal-la!' he sang, rising with a sweep of the arm thatbrought down two candlesticks. Then, seizing a glass and filling it fromthe punch-bowl, 'Here's your health once more, my lady. And drink her,you envious beggars! Drink her! You shall throw the stocking for us.Lord, we'll have a right royal wedding! And then--'

  'Don't you forget the five thousand,' said Pomeroy sulkily. He kept hisseat, his hands thrust deep into his breeches pockets; he looked thepicture of disappointment.

  'Not I, dear lad! Not I! Lord, it is as safe as if your banker had it.Just as safe!'

  'Umph! She has not taken you yet!' Pomeroy muttered, watching him; andhis face relaxed. 'No, hang me! she has not!' he continued in a tone buthalf audible. 'And it is even betting she will not. She might take youdrunk, but d--n me if she will take you sober!' And, cheered by thereflection, he pulled the bowl to him, and, filling a glass, 'Here's toher, my lord,' he said, raising it to his lips. 'But remember you haveonly two days.'

  'Two days!' my lord cried, reeling slightly; the last glass had been toomuch for him. 'We'll be married in two days. See if we are not.'

  'The Act notwithstanding?' Mr. Pomeroy said, with a sneer.

  'Oh, sink the Act!' his lordship retorted. 'But where's--where's thedoor? I shall go,' he continued, gazing vacantly about him, 'go to herat once, and tell her--tell her I shall marry her! You--you fellows arehiding the door! You are--you are all jealous! Oh, yes! Such a shape andsuch eyes! You are jealous, hang you!'

  Mr. Pomeroy leaned forward and leered at the tutor. 'Shall we let himgo?' he whispered. 'It will mend somebody's chance. What say you,Parson? You stand next. Make it six thousand instead of five, and I'llsee to it.'

  'Let me go to her!' my lord hiccoughed. He was standing, holding by theback of a chair. 'I tell you--I--where is she? You are jealous! That'swhat you are! Jealous! She is fond of me--pretty charmer--and I shallgo to her!'

  But Mr. Thomasson shook his head; not so much because he shrank from theoutrage which the other contemplated with a grin, as because he nowwished Lord Almeric to succeed. He thought it possible and even likelythat the girl, dazzled by his title, would be willing to take the youngsprig of nobility. And the influence of the Doyley family was great.

  He shook his head therefore, and Mr. Pomeroy rebuffed, solaced himselfwith a couple of glasses of punch. After that, Mr. Thomasson pleadedfatigue as his reason for declining to take a hand at any game whatever,and my lord continuing to maunder and flourish and stagger, the hostreluctantly suggested bed; and going to the door bawled for Jarvey andhis lordship's man. They came, but were found to be incapable ofstanding when apart. The tutor and Mr. Pomeroy, therefore, took my lordby the arms and partly shoved and partly supported him to his room.

  There was a second bed in the chamber. 'You had better tumble in there,Parson,' said Mr. Pomeroy. 'What say you? Will't do?'

  'Finely,' Tommy answered. 'I am obliged to you.' And when they hadjointly loosened his lordship's cravat, and removed his wig and set thecool jug of small beer within his reach, Mr. Pomeroy bade the other acurt good-night, and took himself off.

  Mr. Thomasson waited until his footsteps ceased to echo in the gallery,and then, he scarcely knew why, he furtively opened the door and peepedout. All was dark; and save for the regular tick of the pendulum on thestairs, the house was still. Mr. Thomasson, wondering which way Julia'sroom lay, stood listening until a stair creaked; and then, retiringprecipitately, locked his door. Lord Almeric, in the gloom of the greenmoreen curtains that draped his huge four-poster, had fallen into adrunken slumber. The shadow of his wig, which Pomeroy had clapped on thewig-stand by the bed, nodded on the wall, as the draught moved thetails. Mr. Thomasson shivered, and, removing the candle--as was hisprudent habit of nights--to the hearth, muttered that a goose waswalking over his grave, undressed quickly, and jumped into bed.