“Gilly, for God’s sake—! Have you left them without a word?” exclaimed Gideon.
The Duke nodded. For a moment Gideon sat staring at him with knit brows. Then he burst out laughing. “It’s the maddest quirk I ever heard tell of, and who— who would have guessed that you had it in you to do it?” he said. “Adolphus, I no longer despair of you! You will undoubtedly set your whole household by the ears, from my father down to your lowliest footman, and it will do them a great deal of good! Don’t come back too soon! Let them learn their lesson past fear of forgetting it: you may then enjoy some peace hereafter. Fill up your glass! We’ll have a toast to your emancipation. No daylights, no heel-taps!”
Then Duke obeyed, and pushed the bottle across the table. “No, we shall drink to the adventures of Mr. Dash!” he said.
“Anything you please!” grinned his cousin, and tossed off his wine with a flourish.
The Duke followed suit. As he lowered his glass, the ring on his finger caught his eye. He drew it off. “Keep that for me!” he said, handing it to Gideon. “It quite ruins my disguise!”
Chapter VIII
The Duke did not enjoy a very restful night’s repose in his room at the Saracen’s Head. The feather-bed upon which he twisted and turned seemed to be composed largely of lumps; and no one else in the inn appeared to go to bed at all. The noise in the tap-room went on until far into the night; doors banged; footsteps clumped down the passages; and an occasional clatter suggested that kitchenmaids enjoyed no respite from their labours. He was also very much too hot, the bed being piled high with blankets, and having been warmed for him by a chambermaid who was directed to take up a warming-pan for the Quality in No. 27 as soon as he arrived in his hackney from Albany.
He had remained with his cousin until an advanced hour, and was consequently tired when he reached the inn. If he, had owned the truth to himself, which he resolutely refused to do, he would not have been ill-pleased to have found Nettlebed awaiting him, ready to have unpacked his valise, pulled off his boots, and poured out hot water for him to wash his face and hands in. His bedchamber, which was small, and rather stuffy, seemed oddly friendless when he entered it, and was lit by only one candle, which was set down on the dressing-table by the boots who escorted him upstairs. Had Nettlebed been with him, he would have found his familiar belongings already laid out for him, his own sheets upon the bed, and—but had Nettlebed been with him he would not, of course, have been staying at an inn of this class, but at some posting-house which despised stage-coach travellers, and catered only for the Nobility and Gentry. The Duke firmly banished Nettlebed from his mind, and put himself to bed.
It naturally did not occur to him that he must ask to be called in the morning, but fortunately the boots took his measure, and suggested to him that he should state the hour at which he would wish to have a jug of shaving-water brought up to him. In the event, he underestimated the time it would take him to shave, dress himself, and pack his valise, and it was consequently in a somewhat flurried and breathless state that he ran down to the coffee-room to partake of a hasty breakfast. As he had forgotten to set his top-boots outside his door, these had not been cleaned, and looked, to his fastidious eye, very dull and dusty. But when he came out of the coffee-room into the yard, he found that amongst the many irrelevant persons assembled there was a shoe-black, of whose services he instantly availed himself.
While this individual laboured upon his boots, he had leisure to observe the activities going on around him, and was so much entertained that any regrets he might have had that he had embarked on such an impulsive adventure left him.