When he had got out of the neighbourhood he betook himself to a small coffee-shop. Here he had some refreshment, and begged permission to go into one of the bedrooms to wash himself, alleging as an excuse that he had been engaged in a fight with some one who had insulted him.
Whether the coffee-house keeper believed his story it would not be so easy to say; however, he affected to do so. The house he kept was not of very good repute, being, in fact, one to which thieves resorted.
Peace, after a wash up, together with a plentiful application of cold water to his head, felt a little better, and after swallowing his coffee and muffin, once more proceeded on his journey.
He was now passable in his external appearance, so much so as not to attract attention; so in the course of half an hour after he had left the coffee-shop he went to the bar of a roadside public and swallowed two stiff glasses of brandy and water.
As we have already indicated he was never at any time a drinking man, but, as he afterwards declared, he was so “limp” on this occasion that he was fain to have recourse to stimulants to wind himself up.
We need not follow his footsteps further—it will be enough to note that he reached his residence in safety. Lady Marvlynn and Aveline returned to the grand room, in which the guests were assembled.
An inquiry was made by several with regard to the prisoner, and a general expression of astonishment very naturally followed, when they were informed by the hostess that he had been set free.
“What!—let the scoundrel go?” exclaimed Colonel Snappe. “I never heard of such a thing. Why, my dear Lady Marvlynn, what could you have been thinking about?”
“He was contrite, and pleaded for mercy,” said her ladyship, with a shrug. “I suppose I have done wrong, but I could not find it in my heart to detain him.”
“Well, I am indeed astonished,” said Lord Chetwynd. “It is positively most reprehensible.”