THE RUSTLE OF A SKIRT
"You graceless young dog!" cried Kent-Lauriston, falling upon Stanley in a half-feigned, half-real burst of anger, as he entered the smoking-room after his encounter with Belle. "Do you know you've caused me to refuse invitations by the score, and dragged me down to this God-forsaken place, at the most impossible season of the year, on false pretences?"
"False pretences! How so?"
"Why? You shameless Lothario! Why? Because what's left of my conscience smote me for leaving a lamb amidst a pack of wolves, and wouldn't let me rest; nearly destroyed my digestion, I give you my word. I came down to pluck your innocence alive from the burning, and I've been a fool for my pains. Why, confound you, I not only find you épris with Madame Darcy, but engaged to both the Fitzgerald and Lady Isabelle."
"My dear Kent-Lauriston, pray soothe your ruffled feelings; your logic is excellent, but your premises are one and all false."
"What!"
"I say there's nothing between Madame Darcy and myself, and that I'm neither engaged to Miss Fitzgerald nor Lady Isabelle."
"But, my dear Stanley, I've heard——"
"But, my dear Kent-Lauriston, you've heard wrongly."
"What—isn't Madame Darcy here?"
"Yes."
"And haven't you seen her?"
"Yes."
"And walked with her early in the morning?"
"Yes."
"And breakfasted with her, tête-à-tête at a farmhouse?"
"Yes."
"And hasn't her husband challenged you to a duel on her account?"
"Yes."
"And didn't he, moreover, catch you in the act of proposing to Miss Fitzgerald?"
"Yes."
"And haven't you asked the Marchioness for Lady Isabelle's hand?"
"Yes."
"And in the face of all this—you attempt to deny——"
"In the face of all this—circumstantial evidence—I'm quite prepared to deny everything. Would you like to hear the facts of the case?"
"Rather!"
As will have been inferred, the two men had the smoking-room entirely to themselves, and the best part of an hour passed before the Secretary had finished his account of events with which the reader is familiar.
Kent-Lauriston heard him out with great interest, and after drawing a long breath, at the close of his recital, remarked:—
"I think I shall be fully repaid for any inconvenience to which I've put myself on your account. This whole affair is most interesting, and, believe me, there's more in it than appears on the surface."
"I feel the same way myself," replied the Secretary; "but let us hear your views on the subject."
"First," replied his friend, "you must assure me of how you yourself stand. Are you still in your unregenerate state, or have you yet begun to see the fruits of your folly?"
The young diplomat was silent for a long time, but finally he said, looking up into Kent-Lauriston's face with an almost appealing glance:
"I'm afraid you would think me awfully caddish if I told you the truth about it."
"About the state of your affections for Miss Fitzgerald, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Of course, I shouldn't think you justified in making a public declaration of a change of sentiment, because it might seem to reflect on the lady, but in my case it's very different. Having spoken so frankly and freely on the subject already, I might almost say that you owe it to me to continue to do so. Certainly I've given you no cause for reticence by anything I've done, and, as certainly, you must confide fully in me if you wish my help in the future."
"Well, then, the truth is," he blurted out, "that you were right and I was wrong, and I've found it out too late."
"I thought as much."
"But I'm not going back on my word. If I've made a mistake, I must suffer for it; and if Miss Fitzgerald accepts my proposal, which she now has under consideration, I shall live up to my part of the agreement; and if I can prevent it, she shall never suspect that I would have matters otherwise. If she should refuse me, however——"
"You'd make a fool of yourself just the same," continued Kent-Lauriston, "by jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire, and marrying Madame Darcy the instant she obtained her divorce."
"Kent-Lauriston," Stanley exclaimed, "you know a d——d sight too much!"
The Englishman laughed softly, and then resumed the thread of his discourse.
"Now that I understand your position——" he began.
"Do you understand it?"
"Better than you do yourself, I fancy; let me see if I can state it. You've proposed to Miss Fitzgerald, and she has taken the question of marrying you into consideration; since which time you have come to the conclusion, for reasons which we will not specify out of consideration for your feelings, that, if she refuses, or could be induced to refuse you, you'd accept the decision without an appeal. Am I correct?"
The Secretary nodded gloomily.
"Under the circumstances, do you give me permission to do what I can to effect your release?"
"Do what you please."
"I'll do my best. Now what induced you to propose to her against your better judgment? Did she lead you on?"
"No, certainly not—if you suppose——!"
"Well, something must have started you up."
"Charges were made against her. I thought it my duty to tell her what had been said——"
"How did she receive it?"
"She accused me of being a false friend, of not having defended her."
"And you proposed—when—that day?"
"No, the next night."
"I see, the next night; because you thought it your duty to protect her."
"Confound you. You read me like a book."
"An open page is easy reading. Now who made the charges?"
"Kingsland."
"I thought so. Whom did they concern?"
"Darcy."
"Exactly. And at the very moment that you were asking her to give you the right to protect her from men of Darcy's stamp—he turns up and proves you the worst of the lot."
"And she— I wonder she didn't refuse me out of hand."
"I wonder she didn't accept you—but let that pass. All I wish to point out to you is this:—Kingsland drove you by the charges he made against Darcy to propose to Miss Fitzgerald. What was his motive for doing so?"
"Friendship for Miss Fitzgerald."
"Would that be likely to induce him to make serious charges against her?"
"Friendship for me."
"Nonsense! I know the man. He did it because it paid him to do it."
"How was that possible?"
"I can suggest one motive. The removal of the obstacles preventing Lady Isabelle's secret marriage. Now who could have effected this? Not Lady Isabelle, she never had the audacity to carry out such a scheme; not Kingsland, he hasn't brains enough; our hostess is above suspicion; in fact there's only one person who could have conceived and carried out the plan to its successful conclusion—namely, Miss Fitzgerald."
"What grounds have you for proving it?"
"Was she with the parson at all, before the ceremony?"
"I knew you'd ask that question!"
"Then she was."
"Twice, on the days just preceding—to my knowledge."
"That's sufficient."
"Not for me."
"Then I'll tell you where we can find the missing link of evidence."
"Where?"
"In the marriage register of the church. Find the names of the witnesses, and you'll find the people who have carried it through. If you'll kindly leave it in my hands, I'll verify my statements to-morrow morning. I'd prefer that you did not do it yourself."
"As you please. But even admitting you're right, it doesn't give the cause for the motive."
"Oh, yes, it does—Miss Fitzgerald's intervention in this matter was the price of Kingsland's egging you on to propose."
"Nonsense!"
"I'll lay you a thousand to one on it."
Stanley shrugged his shoulders, saying:—
"But your own arguments defeat you, my dear fellow. If Miss Fitzgerald was such a calculating person, why should she put herself out, and run the risk of compromising herself, merely to induce the Lieutenant to play upon my jealousy, when, as you've already shown, and I've admitted, I was so weak as to make such strategy unnecessary."
"Perhaps that was not the only favour Miss Fitzgerald looked for, and the Lieutenant's hands——"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, taking five chests for her to London."
"Oh," said the Secretary, much relieved, "I know all about that. I quite assure you it has nothing to do with Miss Fitzgerald."
"But I heard her asking Kingsland to take them up for her this afternoon, and to put them in his bank."
"Look here, Kent-Lauriston, your dislike for poor Belle must have got the better of your common sense. You certainly misinterpreted what she said. Those chests belong to Mr. Riddle."
Kent-Lauriston changed the subject.
"What is Colonel Darcy here for?"
"He says, to watch his wife."
"What is she here for?"
"She says she has letters written to her husband by some member of this household, which have aroused her suspicions."
"That sounds more promising. Who is this person?"
"A woman of course—but she only knows her Christian name."
"And that is?"
"She will not tell me."
"Ah!" said Kent-Lauriston drily.
"I've sources of information about Darcy, which I'm not at liberty to give you," resumed Stanley, "but you're not on the right track, believe me."
"Time will prove the correctness of some of my theories, at least," replied his mentor, "and I shall be better able to talk when I've seen the marriage register. Now let's have something to drink, and go to bed;" and he pressed the bell.
An interval having elapsed without an answer, he rang again, but no servant appeared.
"It must be later than I thought. We'll have to shift for ourselves. There'll be something going in the billiard-room."
"Hark!" said Stanley. "There's somebody in the hall; it's probably the butler shutting up for the night."
They both listened, and a peculiar, shuffling, scraping sound became audible.
"That's a curious noise," said the Secretary. "Let's see what it means," and, suiting the action to the word, he threw open the smoking-room door.
The light in the hall was turned out, and the sombre black oak panelling made the great apartment seem darker than it really was. Absolute stillness reigned. It was, to all appearance, empty.
"Must have been rats," said the Secretary. "Everyone seems to have retired."
"Have they?" said Kent-Lauriston.
"Listen!"
And both could have sworn that they heard, far up the hall, the dying rustle of a skirt. But there were some things that Stanley had no wish to know, and he set his face and his steps towards the stairs, continuing:—
"As I was saying, we are the only people up.
"Then we'd better go to bed."
"By all means."
"Shall I turn out the electric lights in the smoking-room?"
"Yes, we're evidently the last."
A moment later they stood on the upper landing about to separate for the night.
"The woman was behind that screen at the foot of the stairs," said Kent-Lauriston.
"Yes, I know," replied the Secretary.
"Good-night, my dear Stanley."
"Good-night, old man. You possess a rare talent."
"Yes?"
"You know when not to ask questions."