“Less than two hours now. First to make things safe about our friends the enemy, and then to stop Caerleon, and prevent his coming here. You very nearly won this time, O’Malachy; but if I beat you in this nest of rebellion, with a disaffected garrison, I think you will have to shut up shop for good and all.”
CHAPTER VII.
TWO KINGS OF BRENTFORD.
The message which Philippa brought from Cyril served in some degree to allay her mother’s anxiety, and the continued absence of the O’Malachy tended to the same result. He had said that he was going to lunch with a friend or two at the Kursaal, and that he would return afterwards and take Nadia and the children to meet Caerleon at the station; but, innocent as this programme sounded, his daughter derived no comfort from it. She felt that she had blundered into the midst of a web of conspiracy, of whose extent and object alike she was ignorant, and she was equally afraid of remaining inactive, and of taking any step that might increase the difficulties which surrounded her. What her father’s plans might be she could not divine; but that they were of a perilous nature, and boded evil to Caerleon and the children, she was convinced, while the keenest sting of her position lay in the fact that she was helpless to find a way out of the trap into which her own credulity had led her, and was now leading her husband. Therefore she was devoutly thankful when there was no sign of the O’Malachy’s return, even though she attributed his delay, quite unjustly on this occasion, to his having imbibed at lunch, somewhat freely, liquors more potent than the Tatarjé waters.
It was past three o’clock, and Usk and Philippa, after a little lively squabbling, had settled themselves in the two front windows of the hotel sitting-room “to watch for father,” while their mother flitted about uneasily, now glancing out of one window or the other, and then trying to occupy herself with a book. The children were just engaged in an argument dealing with the respective probabilities of the clock’s being fast and the train’s being late, when their attention was suddenly distracted by the sounds of an altercation on the landing outside the room.
“You ’old your jaw,” they heard Wright’s voice say, as the door was violently opened and then unceremoniously shut, “and don’t come ’ere frightenin’ ’er ladyship with your tales.”
“I must tell ’er ladyship,” was the reply, in a choked voice, which suggested that Wright had the speaker by the collar, and the door opened again, this time admitting Wright and Robert, the young Llandiarmid footman, both in a somewhat ruffled condition.
“What is the meaning of this?” inquired Lady Caerleon in astonishment. “Robert! how did you come here?”
“Please, my lady, ’is lordship brought me with ’im from ’ome, because Mr Franks were ill and not allowed to travel.”
“What! is the Marquis here? What do you mean by forcing your way into the room before your master, Robert?”
“Please, my lady, ’is lordship ain’t ’ere. ’E’ve been arrested.”