Chapter Fifty Seven.
A Crime in Contemplation.
Still self-invited, Rupert accompanied the ladies to the house, and assisted them to dismount with great show of courtesy and respect. The little ruffle with Vaga had determined him not to try on that tack again.
He did not go inside with them, having some directions to give to his suite, seen approaching up the avenue. Besides, it was nearing dinner hour, and they must needs repair to their dressing-rooms.
Left by himself, the Prince seemed all impatience for his escort to come up. He had even shown haste when helping the ladies out of their saddles, as if wishing to be disembarrassed of them with the least delay. Some new thought, or scheme, had evidently entered his mind; and recently, or since despatching Trevor with the order to Lunsford, as then he had said nothing about time.
When they were near enough to hear him he called out, making a sign to the officer at their head to hasten them on. This was Lunsford himself, who, perceiving that something was wanted, separated from the cavalcade, spurring his horse to a quick canter. As the haw-haw gate had already been opened, he passed through it without. Stop or interruption, on to the house.
“Come up—nearer!” said the Prince, speaking low, and in a cautious manner as if he feared being overheard. He was standing in the porch, a little elevated above the ground, and as the other drew alongside, seated in the saddle, their heads were close enough for conversing in whispers.
“What is it, your Highness?” asked Lunsford, wondering at the air of mystery.