There was the sound of a sharp, heavy blow—so heavy that the recipient almost staggered under it. Then came an instant’s dead silence: and then a voice, very low, very sorrowful, yet with no anger in it—
“Good-night, Aubrey. I hope you will come to-morrow.”
And Hans’s steps died away in the distance.
Left to himself, Aubrey’s feelings were far from enviable. He was compelled to recognise the folly of his conduct, as more calculated to fan than deter suspicion; and it sorely nettled him also to perceive that Hans, shopkeeper though he might be, had shown himself much the truer gentleman of the two. But little time was left him to indulge in these unpleasant reflections, for the door behind him was opened by a girl.
“Mr Catesby at home?”
“Ay, Sir, and Mr Winter is here. Pray you, walk up.”
Aubrey did as he was requested, adding an unnecessary compliment on the good looks of the portress, to which she responded by a simper of gratified vanity—thereby showing that neither belonged to the wisest class of mankind—and he was ushered upstairs, into a small but pleasant parlour, where three gentlemen sat conversing. A decanter stood on the table, half full of wine, and each gentleman was furnished with a glass. The long silver pipe was passing round from one to another, and its smoker looked up as Aubrey was announced.
“Ah! welcome, Mr Louvaine. Mr Winter, you know this gentleman. Sir, this is my very good friend Mr Darcy,”—indicating the third person by a motion of the hand. “Mr Darcy, suffer me to make you acquainted with Mr Louvaine, my good Lord Oxford’s gentleman and a right pleasant companion.—Pray you, help yourself to Rhenish, and take a pipe.”
Aubrey accepted the double invitation, and was soon puffing at the pipe which Catesby handed to him.
He had not taken much notice of the stranger, and none at all of a gesture on the part of Mr Catesby as he introduced him—a momentary stroking upwards of his forehead, intended as a sign not to Aubrey, but to the other. The stranger, however, perfectly understood it. To him it said, “Here is a simpleton: mind what you say.”