“For heaven’s sake, no!” begged Mr Tarleton from the chair into which he had been lowered. “The merest scratch! If you would but hand me one of those napkins, and assist me to twist it tightly about my arm!”
Isabella, who have been hunting in her reticule, produced a pair of scissors and began, with the aid of these, to tear a napkin into strips. Sir Montagu, appalled as much by his late madness as by the frightful consequences he saw clearly might result from it, had picked himself up and staggered to the far end of the room, holding a fast-swelling jaw and trying to think in what way he could avert retribution. The landlord came back with a bowl of water, and sharply ordered his hirelings to be off about their business. The waiter put a glass of brandy to Mr Tarleton’s lips; and Mr Tarleton, who was feeling rather faint from so much loss of blood, swallowed the tot and leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed.
The landlord, thoroughly incensed by such irregular conduct in his house, dealt expeditiously with the wound, but stated his intention of summoning the village constable to take up both combatants. He was just adding a rider to the effect that the magistrates would know how to deal with so-called gentlemen who tried to cheat honest postboys out of their fees, when the clatter of hooves sounded in the yard, the grating of wheels on cobble-stones, and an impatient voice called out: “Hi, there! Ostler! Ostler, I say!”
“Sherry!” shrieked Hero, and flew up from beside Mr Tarleton’s chair and sped forth into the corridor which led to the yard. “Sherry, Sherry!”
His lordship had just sprung down from his curricle. He saw his wife in the shaft of lamplight cast through the open door, and strode towards her. “Oh, Kitten, thank God I have found you!” he exclaimed, holding out his arms. “You mustn’t do this, my little love! I can’t let you!”
Hero ran straight into his arms, and flung her own round his neck. “No, no, Sherry! I never meant to do it!” she sobbed. “I thought it was you, not Mr Tarleton!”
“Oh, Kitten, if that isn’t just like you!” he said unsteadily. “It ought to have been me! And if I hadn’t been such a gudgeon — Kitten, you little wretch, what a dance you have led me! Kiss me!”
The Honourable Ferdy Fakenham, observing with intense interest the passionate embrace being exchanged by two persons who appeared to be wholly oblivious of their surroundings, descended from the curricle, and with great dignity bade the equally interested Jason lead the horses into the stable, and see them well rubbed down. By the time this order had been reluctantly obeyed, Sherry was drying his wife’s wet cheeks with his handkerchief, and Hero was smiling up into his softened face. “But, Sherry, how did you know?”
“Jason saw you. I thought — I was afraid it was because I had given you such a dislike of me that you could not bear even to speak to me! I felt like blowing my brains out!”
“Oh, Sherry, no! How could I dislike you? I have loved you all my life!”