“Do so at once, of course. Then come to put up a change of clothes for Mr Merriot. You must take them to him on the instant. To snatch him away in that fashion with never a moment to pack a valise — affreux!” She swept round, and went off up the wide stairs.
John stayed but to give Sir Anthony’s note to his man, and followed my lady to Robin’s room. He entered without ceremony and found his young master in coat and breeches, pulling on his top-boots.
“For the love of God, John, will you make him listen to reason?” besought my lady.
Robin’s fair face was set in uncompromising lines. He threw my lady an impatient glance. “Oh enough, ma’am, enough! Do you suppose I shall sit here while my sister’s hailed off under escort?”
John shut the door behind him. “She’s safe, sir.”
Robin’s hands left tugging at his boot. “What?”
“Sir Anthony has her, sir. He’s ridden off with her into Hampshire, and he bid me tell you he would keep her safe.”
My lady gasped. Robin turned in his chair to face John. “Good gad!” he said. “The mountain! But how, man, how?”
John became quite animated. “Sir, you couldn’t have done it better! No, nor my lord either. There’s a coach well on the way to London with two men trussed up inside it, the horses kicked over the traces, and the whole in an uproar.” He laughed at the thought of it.
My lady sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sir Anthony did this?” she said incredulously. “Never!”