“That greatly agitated him. ‘You cannot. For the world, I would not have you take me seriously. I could not descend to such dishonest practices as that.’
“This made me wince, and I was minded to give him a sharp answer. But I did not. I put him off with excuses and he is none the wiser. You do not still think we had better tell him, do you?”
I certainly did not, but, for all that, I was uneasy in my mind. I was not at all sure but that the Earl was right and my lady wrong. However, it was now too late to mend. That was a great comfort. I put a brave face on the matter and resolved to carry my part through to the end.
But I was to have one more disagreeable reminder of my danger before I set out for Van Volkenberg’s. The details of this event do not matter, but the main fact may as well be told. Pierre, unintelligent as his face had appeared when I met him, had recognized me. He was so proud because he had not betrayed his knowledge that he managed a safe way to let me know about it, bragging at length of his discretion. The only effect of this piece of news upon me was to make me feel still more insecure and doubtful of the reception I should meet with at the manor-house. One thought, however, comforted me. Van Volkenberg had seen me only a few times and then for only a few minutes at a time. I really believed that he would not be able to recognize me after the change wrought by the removal of my heavy beard. Yet I set out not wholly sure. I must confess that my heart was beating a little quicker than usual in anticipation of the result.
CHAPTER XV
THE SILVER BUTTONS
I set out for the manor-house shortly before twilight, taking the Boston post road, which led northward by the patroon’s estate. I passed the Kissing Bridge, over which I had seen the patroon and his dwarf ride with a retinue of soldiers behind them; thence along the doubling road for five miles till I came at last to a noble park of elms and beeches. Here the road began to lift, not steeply, but swinging in broad curves among the tree trunks, till at last I came to a pause on the crest of a hill. After breathing my horse for a moment, I continued my way and soon reached a terraced lawn dotted with shrubs, and all of an exquisite softness of color. A fringe of cedars hid the offices and out-buildings, though the side of the manor-house was in plain view. When I reached the front of the rambling stone building, a servant in livery took my horse, and another showed me into a reception room, where I was to wait till he took my name to his master. Soon he returned and desired me to follow him.
I found Van Volkenberg in his study, surrounded by papers and maps; he was evidently deep in the business of his estate.
A dog—it looked like the one I had fought with, though I thought I had killed him—this dog rose at my entrance and stood by his master’s chair, growling sullenly. The patroon looked up with an expression in his face that showed neither irritation at being interrupted nor pleasure at seeing me. He was dressed from head to foot in black except for a dark crimson skull cap that confined his silver gray hair. He was seated by the table when I entered, but rose politely to bid me welcome.
“Monsieur St. Vincent,” he said with a dignified inclination of his head. “C’est bien.”
I made a low bow, pleased to hear my native tongue. Then I stood erect with one hand on the hilt of my sword, the other resting upon my hip. I threw as much bravado into my appearance as I could, for I was playing a bold game and the patroon did not look like a man who would be taken by a cringing manner.