CHAPTER VII—IN WHICH THE AUTHOR TRESPASSES
THIS narrative has quite as much to do with the Bazelhurst side of the controversy as it has with Shaw's. It is therefore but fair that the heroic invasion by Lord Cecil should receive equal consideration from the historian. Shaw's conquest of one member of the force opposing him was scarcely the result of bravery; on the other hand Lord Cecil's dash into the enemy's country was the very acme of intrepidity. Shaw had victory fairly thrust upon him; Lord Bazelhurst had a thousand obstacles to overcome before he could even so much as stand face to face with the enemy. Hence the expedition that started off in the wake of the deserter deserves more than passing mention.
Down the drive and out into the mountain road clattered the three horsemen. Lady Bazelhurst, watching at the window casement, almost swooned with amazement at the sight of them. The capes of their mackintoshes seemed to flaunt a satirical farewell in her face; their owners, following the light of the carriage lamps, swept from view around a bend in the road.
His lordship had met the duke in the hall, some distance from that nobleman's room, and, without observing Barminster's apparent confusion, commanded him to join in the pursuit. Barminster explained that he was going to see how the cook was resting; however, he would go much farther to be of service to the runaway sister of his host.
“She's broken-hearted,” half sobbed the brother.
“Yes,” agreed the duke; “and what's a broken leg to a broken heart? Penelope's heart, at that. Demme, I can't find the cook's room, anyway.”
“It's in the servants' wing,” said Cecil, anxious to be off.
“To be sure. Stupid ass I am. I say, old chap, here's Deveaux's door. Let's rout him out. We'll need some one to hold the horses if we have to force our way into Shaw's house.”
“Good heaven, Randolph, go to him! He is hurt.”