Randal made a desperate and successful effort at self-control. “Heaven be praised!” he cried. “And just as I had begun to suspect the count, the marchesa; for I find that neither of them slept at home last night; and Levy told me that the count had written to him, requesting the baron to discharge his bills, as he should be for some time absent from England.”
“Indeed! Well, that is nothing to us,—very much to Baron Levy, if he executes his commission, and discharges the bills. What! are you going already?”
“Do you ask such a question? How can I stay? I must go to Norwood,—must see Violante with my own eyes! Forgive my emotion—I—I—”
Randal snatched at his hat and hurried away. The low scornful laugh of Harley followed him as he went.
“I have no more doubt of his guilt than Leonard has. Violante at least shall not be the prize of that thin-lipped knave. What strange fascination can he possess, that he should thus bind to him the two men I value most,—Audley Egerton and Alphonso di Serrano? Both so wise too!—one in books, one in action. And both suspicious men! While I, so imprudently trustful and frank—Ah, that is the reason; our natures are antipathetic; cunning, simulation, falsehood, I have no mercy, no pardon for these. Woe to all hypocrites if I were a grand Inquisitor!”
“Mr. Richard Avenel,” said the waiter, throwing open the door.
Harley caught at the arm of the chair on which he sat, and grasped it nervously, while his eyes became fixed intently on the form of the gentleman who now advanced into the room. He rose with an effort.
“Mr. Avenel!” he said falteringly. “Did I hear your name aright? Avenel!”
“Richard Avenel, at your service, my Lord,” answered Dick. “My family is not unknown to you; and I am not ashamed of my family, though my parents were small Lansmere tradesfolks, and I am—ahem!—a citizen of the world, and well-to-do!” added Dick, dropping his kid gloves into his hat, and then placing the hat on the table, with the air of an old acquaintance who wishes to make himself at home. Lord L’Estrange bowed and said, as he reseated himself (Dick being firmly seated already), “You are most welcome, sir; and if there be anything I can do for one of your name—”
“Thank you, my Lord,” interrupted Dick. “I want nothing of any man. A bold word to say; but I say it. Nevertheless, I should not have presumed to call on your Lordship, unless, indeed, you had done me the honour to call first at my house, Eaton Square, No. —— I should not have presumed to call if it had not been on business,—public business, I may say—NATIONAL business!”