CHAPTER XVII.
“You are to drive me half a mile down the road and back again,” said Rudolph sullenly to the aged Jehu who had carried Nemesis in a tumble-down vehicle to the gateway of the lodge. “Don’t stop to think about it. The sooner its done the sooner its over.”
With this philosophical remark, the Rexanian entered the carriage and seated himself gloomily behind the taciturn and dispirited driver. There was a melancholy aspect to the conveyance as it moved slowly away from the lodge gate. The broken-hearted steed seemed to be plunged in a gloomy revery regarding the iconoclastic influence of bicycles; the driver cracked his tattered whip in a hopeless way, as if he realized the impotence of his efforts to give an appearance of life and activity to his antiquated turnout; while Rudolph’s face wore an expression of mingled apprehension and dismay that grew more intense the farther he rolled away from the manor-house.
It was this depressing caravan that met the restless gaze of Ludovics about a quarter of a mile below the lodge. He had cut loose from his alcoholic moorings at the road-house, and was tacking toward Rudolph’s ill-fated residence with a purpose much more steady than his steps. He paused by the side of the roadway and aroused Rudolph from his dark forebodings by a loud cry.
“Rudolph!” shouted Ludovics. “Rudolph! Have they turned you out? Good! I knew you were the right kind! Here, man, give me the grip.”
The little inebriate had reached the side of the carriage and seized Rudolph’s cold, damp, flabby hand.
The lodge-keeper gazed calmly at his unruly compatriot. The thought had entered his mind that it was possible to save time by sending Ludovics for the doctor while he and his disheartened driver returned to the lodge.
“Ludovics,” remarked Rudolph, diplomatically, “I’m glad to see you.” Then he leaned down over the back wheel and whispered, “Be cautious, Ludovics. The driver there is not one of us.”
Ludovics flashed a glance of withering scorn at the bent back of the phlegmatic Jehu.