She broke off, for the door had opened, and a beam of lamplight shone into the darkening room. Mrs. Armathwaite came in, carrying a lamp, which she set down upon the table, saying: “I’ve brought the lamp, sir, and there’s no need for you to worrit yourself about dinner, for it happens that we have a nice shoulder of mutton, which I’ve had popped into the oven, and a couple of spring chickens, which will be on the spit in another ten minutes. Good gracious, what ails his lordship?”
Dolphinton, in the act of disappearing into the cupboard beside the fireplace, paused to say in anguished tones: “Not here! Not seen me!”
Kitty, who had also heard the sound of a vehicle drawing up, peered out into the dusk. “Dolph, don’t be afraid! It is not your Mama! It is only some gentleman—why—why, I do believe—It is Jack! Good God, what can have brought him here? Oh, I am persuaded he will be able to help us! What a fortunate circumstance! Come out, Dolph! it is only Jack!”
Chapter XX
In a very few moments, Mr. Westruther, admitted to the house by Mrs. Armathwaite, strode into the Rector’s parlour, and stood for a minute on the threshold while his keen, yet oddly lazy eyes took in the assembled company. They encountered first Miss Charing, who had started forward into the middle of the room. An eyebrow went up. They swept past the Rector, and alighted on Miss Plymstock. Both eyebrows went up. Lastly, they discovered Lord Dolphinton, emerging from the cupboard. “Oh, my God!” said Mr. Westruther, shutting the door with a careless, backward thrust of one hand.
The Rector’s parlour was of comfortable but not handsome proportions, and with the entrance of Mr. Westruther it seemed to shrink. The Rector was himself a large man, but he neither caused his room to dwindle in size, nor seemed out of place in it. But he did not wear a driving coat with sixteen capes, which preposterous garment added considerably to Mr. Westruther’s overpowering presence; he did not flaunt a spotted Belcher neckcloth, or a striped waistcoat; and if the fancy took him to wear a buttonhole, this took the form of a single flower, and not a nosegay large enough for a lady to have carried to a ball. He had a shapely leg, and took care to sheathe it, when he rode to hounds, in a well-fitting boot; but he despised the white tops of fashion, and his servant was not required to polish the leather until he could see his own reflection in it.
Mr. Westruther moved forward, the big mother-of-pearl buttons on his driving-coat winking in the lamplight. He put out his hand, and with one long finger tilted Kitty’s chin up. “What a charming gown, my dear!” he remarked. “You should always wear pink: did the estimable Freddy tell you so? He has his uses! May I kiss you?”
“No, you may not!” said Kittv, pushing his hand away.
He laughed. “Ah, just so! Far too many persons present, are there not? Am I correct in supposing that you are here on precisely my own errand? Did you bring Dolphinton? A mistake, I feel—but I cannot believe that he had the wit to come of his own volition.”
He spoke lightly, but she had the impression that under his air of mockery he was angry. This puzzled her, and had the effect of diverting her own annoyance. She said slowly: “No, I am not here on any errand of yours, Jack. To be sure, I have no notion of what your errand may be!”