"Well, really, I don't know," said Hugo, looking quite puzzled and distressed. "If he can't walk we must have a cab; but if he can, I'd rather not; his lodgings are not far from here. Come, Jack, can't you try?"
Dino, addressed as Jack for the edification of the waiter, rose, and with Hugo's help staggered a few steps. Hugo was somewhat disconcerted. He had not counted upon Dino's small experience of intoxicating liquors when he prepared that beverage for him beforehand. He had meant Dino to be wild and noisy: and, behold, he presented all the appearance of a man who was dead drunk, and could hardly walk or stand.
They managed to get him downstairs, and there, revived by the fresh air, he seemed able to walk to the lodgings which, as Hugo said, were close at hand. The landlord and the waiters laughed to each other when the two gentlemen were out of sight. "He must have taken a good deal to make him like that," said one of them. "The other was sober enough. Who were they?" The landlord shook his head. "Never saw either of them before yesterday," he said. "They paid, at any rate: I wish all my customers did as much." And he went back to the little parlour which he had quitted for a few moments in order to observe the departure of the gentleman who had got so drunk upon a flask of heady Italian wine.
Meanwhile, Hugo was leading his victim through a labyrinth of dark streets and lanes. Dino was hard to conduct in this manner; he leaned heavily upon his guide, he staggered at times, and nearly fell. The night was dark and foggy; more than once Hugo almost lost his bearings and turned in a wrong direction. But he had a reason for all the devious windings and turnings which he took; he was afraid of being spied upon, followed, tracked. It was not until he came at last to a dark lane, between rows of warehouses, where not a light twinkled in the rooms, nor a solitary pedestrian loitered about the pavement, that he seemed inclined to pause. "This is the place," he said to himself, tightening his grasp upon the young man's arm. "This is the place I chose."
He led Dino down the lane, looking carefully about him until he came to a narrow archway on his left hand. This archway opened on a flagged passage, at the end of which a flight of steps led up to one of the empty warehouses. It was a lonely, deserted spot.
He dragged his companion into this entry; the steps of the two men echoed upon the flags for a little way, and then were still. There was the sound of a fall, a groan, then silence. And after five minutes of that silence, Hugo Luttrell crept slowly back to the lane, and stood there alone. He cast one fearful glance around him: nobody was in sight, nobody seemed to have heard the sounds that he had heard. With a quick step and resolute mien he plunged again into the network of little streets, reached a crowded thoroughfare at last, and took a cab for the Strand. He had a ticket for a theatre in his pocket. He went to the theatre.
CHAPTER XXII.
BRIAN'S WELCOME.
The hint given in the Prior's letter concerning Brian's reasons for continuing to teach in the Heron family, together with Hugo's own quickness of perception, had enabled that astute young man to hit upon something very like the exact truth. He had exaggerated it in his conversation with Dino: he had attributed motives to Brian which certainly never entered Brian's mind; but this was done for his own purposes. He thought that Brian's love for Elizabeth Murray might prove a useful weapon in the struggle between Dino's sense of his rights and the romantic affection that he entertained for the man who had taken his place in the world—an affection which Hugo understood so little and despised so much, that he fancied himself sure of an easy victory over Dino's resolution to fight for his rightful position. It was greatly to his surprise that he found so keen a sense of justice and resentment at the little trust that Brian had reposed in him present in Dino's mind: the young man had been irritatingly firm in his determination to possess the Strathleckie estate; he knew precisely what he wanted, and what he meant to do. And although he was inclined to be generous to Brian and to Miss Murray, there seemed no reason to expect that he would be equally generous to Hugo. Therefore Hugo had felt himself obliged to use what he called "strong measures."