When Carlyon, having escorted his guest upstairs to a suitably warmed bedchamber and delivered him into the care of his valet, joined the drawing room party, he found that Nicky was loudly giving vent to his disgust at the outcome of the adventure. Nothing, he insisted, could have been tamer, while as for Francis Cheviot’s continued presence in the house, the only circumstance that could in any way reconcile him to such, an abominable thing would be if Bouncer were to bite him. Bouncer, who had been released from prison and was stretched out before the fire, wagged a willing but slightly weary tail and heaved the sigh of a dog who has spent a successful but exhausting day.
It was not to be expected that John could readily accustom himself to the thought of his brother’s unorthodox conduct. Nightmarish possibilities kept on rearing up their heads, not the least of these being a doubt of Francis’ sincerity. His arguments were met by Carlyon with calm patience, and although he did not quite talk himself out of them he was able at last to admit that he did not know what else could have been done, and was merely thankful the matter had not been left to his judgment.
Elinor, when she heard a brief account of Francis’ activities, could only say that she was glad to think she had not known what a desperate character she was harboring at Highnoons.
“Yes, only fancy if he had had that swordstick of his in his hand when he found you tampering with the clock!” exclaimed Nicky. “I dare say he would not have hesitated to stab you with it, for if a man will stab his best friend there is no telling where he will stop!”
“Just what I was thinking,” Elinor agreed. “I may be thankful, though I quite see that it would have been a very exciting thing to have happened. How flat it will be at Highnoons now!”
“By Jupiter, yes! There will be no bearing it. You know, Ned, I don’t think I have ever enjoyed myself more in all my life! Except for the wretched work you have made of the end of it, you and John between you!”
“For heaven’s sake, Nick, do not be saying that I had anything to do with it!” John besought him, “Ned knows how far I am from approving of his conduct.”
The widow looked much struck. “Is it so, indeed? Can I have heard you aright, Mr. Carlyon?”
Carlyon smiled, but John looked puzzled, and said earnestly, “I have never made the least secret of my sentiments upon this event, ma’am. But so it is always with my brother! He will always go his own way, be it never so crazy!”
“Now John, don’t be prosing again!” Nicky begged. “Ned’s a great gun—at home to a peg!”