“There is no such creature!”
“Well, sir, my Lady Barrasdaile, your honour, she will be——”
“Enough!” said Sir John in his haughtiest tone, and regarding the Corporal with his iciest air of fine-gentlemanly aloofness. “You may leave me, Robert!”
“But I’ve your honour’s valise to pack, sir, and——”
“Then you may pack it elsewhere ... pray, leave me!”
The Corporal glanced furtively askance, and, noting the droop of Sir John’s eyelids, the tilt of his chin, gathered up clothes and valise and, shaking gloomy head, departed forthwith.
Left alone, Sir John leaned pensively from the open casement again, to survey the deserted, winding street with its narrow pavements, its tiled roofs, its neat rows of houses, and the battered shaft of its age-worn cross rising stark against the sun’s level beams, for it was in his mind that he might never behold this scene again, and he sighed more deeply than ever; then leaned suddenly to peer down the street, for upon the air was a sound of approaching feet that woke the echoes—heavy feet that strode masterfully; and thus he presently espied Sir Hector, his wig askew, his weatherbeaten hat cocked at combative angle, purpose in every line of his gigantic figure.
Sir John frowned, pished and psha-ed, and, turning from the window, summoned Corporal Robert.
“You tell me that Sir Hector is unaware of my early departure?” he demanded.
“So far as I know, sir.”