Mr. Shifnal, who had picked up the Duke’s hat and malacca cane, here joined his confederate, and offered to take the poor gentleman’s legs. One or two people began to be interested in what was going on, but Mr. Liversedge was spared the trouble of repeating his story by the first gentleman, who very kindly retailed it for him. While he was doing this, Mr. Liversedge and Mr. Shifnal made haste to remove the Duke to where they had left Mr. Mimms’s cart, outside the field. A particularly fine display of pyrotechnics diverted the attention of those who had shown faint interest in the Duke’s swoon, and as he and his bearers had disappeared from view when they again had leisure to look round they troubled themselves no further in the matter.
The Duke’s inanimate body was soon hoisted into the back of the cart, and laid upon the boards. Mr. Liversedge scrambled in beside him, adjuring Mr. Shifnal to make haste and drive off before any meddling busybody could come poking and prying. He slid his hand under the Duke’s coat, feeling for his heart, and was relieved to feel it beating. He was not, as he had told his friend, a man of violence, and he had suffered quite a horrid revulsion of feeling when the Duke had gone down under the blow of his cudgel. He decided, privately, that if it should become necessary to dispose of the Duke someone other than himself would have to undertake that task: probably Nat, who had little sensibility, and none of the gentlemanly qualms that troubled his friend.
Chapter XIV
Upon the morning of the Duke’s departure from London, Captain Ware was awakened by the sound of altercation outside his door. Ex-Sergeant Wragby’s voice was raised in indignant refusal to allow anyone to enter his master’s room; and he was freely accusing the unknown intruder of being as drunk as an artillery-man. Captain Ware then heard Nettlebed’s voice, sharpened by fright, and he grinned. He had enjoined Wragby, who had been his trusted servant for several years, not to mention the Duke’s presence in Albany the previous evening to anyone, and as his batman had not been on duty he had no fear of the information’s leaking out. He linked his hands behind his head, and awaited events.
“You looby, if you don’t stand out of my way you’ll get one in the bread-basket as’ll send you to grass!” said Nettlebed fiercely.
“Ho!” retorted Wragby. “Ho, I will, will I? If it’s a bit of home-brewed you’re wanting, you herring-gutted, blubber-headed chinch, put up your mawleys!”
Captain Ware thought it time to intervene, and called: “Wragby! What the devil’s all this kick-up?”
His door burst open unceremoniously, and Wragby and Nettlebed entered locked in one another’s arms.
“See the Captain I must and will!” panted Nettlebed.
“Sir! here’s his Grace’s man, as drunk as a brewer’s horse, and not nine o’clock in the morning!” said Wragby, in virtuous wrath.