He had courage to turn to the company and say, “Gentlemen, I fear very much that Mr. George will not be here to-day; something hath happened—and—and—I very much fear some accident may befall him, which must keep him out of the way. Having had your noon's draught, you had best pay the reckoning and go home; there can be no game where there is no one to play it.”
Some of the gentlemen went away without a word, others called to pay their duty to her Majesty and ask for her health. The little army disappeared into the darkness out of which it had been called; there had been no writings, no paper to implicate any man. Some few officers and Members of Parliament had been invited over night to breakfast at the “King's Arms,” at Kensington; and they had called for their bill and gone home.
CHAPTER XIII.
AUGUST 1ST, 1714.
“Does my mistress know of this?” Esmond asked of Frank, as they walked along.
“My mother found the letter in the book, on the toilet-table. She had writ it ere she had left home,” Frank said. “Mother met her on the stairs, with her hand upon the door, trying to enter, and never left her after that till she went away. He did not think of looking at it there, nor had Martin the chance of telling him. I believe the poor devil meant no harm, though I half killed him; he thought 'twas to Beatrix's brother he was bringing the letter.”
Frank never said a word of reproach to me for having brought the villain amongst us. As we knocked at the door I said, “When will the horses be ready?” Frank pointed with his cane, they were turning the street that moment.
We went up and bade adieu to our mistress; she was in a dreadful state of agitation by this time, and that Bishop was with her whose company she was so fond of.
“Did you tell him, my lord,” says Esmond, “that Beatrix was at Castlewood?” The Bishop blushed and stammered: “Well,” says he, “I . . .”