Another and deeper voice spoke in the darkness of the carriage. “You went down to a foul,” it said apologetically. “That weren’t none of my doing, for milling a cove down from behind is what I don’t hold with, and never did, “specially a cove as stands up as well as you do, sir, and shows such a handy bunch of fives. But you hadn’t ought to have gone a-persecuting of Miss Deb, when all’s said.”
Mr Ravenscar did not recognize this voice, but the language informed him that he was in the company of a bruiser. Hi closed his eyes, trying to overcome his dizziness, and to collect his wits.
By the time the carriage drew up outside Lady Bellingham’s house, it was dark enough to enable the conspirators to smuggle their prisoner down the area steps without being ob served either by a man who was walking away in the direction of Pall Mall, or by two chairmen waiting outside a house farther down the square.
The basement of Lady Bellingham’s house was very large very ill-lit, and rambling enough to resemble a labyrinth more nearly than the kitchen-quarters of a well-appointed mansion The cellar destined for Mr Ravenscar’s temporary occupation was reached at the end of a stone-paved corridor, and contained, besides a quantity of store-cupboards, most of Lady Bellingham’s trunks and cloak-bags; a collection of empty band-boxes, stacked up against one wall; and a Windsor chair thoughtfully placed there by Miss Grantham.
Mr Ravenscar was set down on the chair by his panting bearers. Silas Wantage, who had provided himself with the lantern that stood on a table just inside the area-door, critically surveyed him, and gave it as his opinion that he would do. Mr Kennet shook out his ruffles, and smiled upon the victim in a way that made Mr Ravenscar long to have his hands free for only two minutes.
“I’m thinking the second round goes to Deb, Mr Ravenscar. Don’t you be worrying your head, however, for it’s not for long she means to keep you here! We’ll be leaving you now for a while. You will be wanting to think over your situation, I dare swear.”
“Ay, we’d best tell Miss Deb we have him safe,” agreed Silas
Both men then left the cellar, taking the lantern with them and locking the heavy door behind them. Mr Ravenscar was left to darkness and reflection.
Abovestairs, dinner was over, but none of the expectant visitors to the saloons had yet arrived. Mr Kennet strolled into the little back-parlour on the half-landing, where the three ladies were sitting with Kit Grantham, and directed the ghost of a wink at Deborah before going up to shake hands with her brother. It was a little while before any opportunity for exchanging a private word with him occurred, but when he had greeted Kit, and each had asked the other a number of jovial questions, Lady Bellingham recollected that on the previous evening the E.O. table had not seemed to her to be running true, and desired Kennet to inspect it. As he followed her out of the room, he passed Miss Grantham’s chair, smiled down at her, and dropped a large iron key in her lap. She covered it at once with her handkerchief, torn between guilt and triumph, and in a few minutes murmured an excuse, and left the room.
She found Silas Wantage in the front-hall, ready to open the door to the evening’s guests. “Silas! Did you—did you have any trouble?”