“Yes, but this is no time for funning, my dear Lady Cardross! Besides, there’s no saying what people will believe. The thing is, we’re going the quickest way to work to get it set about that that wretched girl has gone clean beyond the line. What’s more, Cardross will be as mad as fire with the pair of us for making cakes of ourselves, instead of telling him what had happened.”

She felt that this indeed might be true, but before she could reply Mr. Shotwick had come back, with a stout dame in a mob-cap, whom he introduced as his good lady.

From the somewhat involved story that issued from Mrs. Shotwick’s lips it became apparent that the eruption of Letty into her hitherto ordered existence had disarranged her mind quite as much as it had shaken her faith in her favourite lodger. “For, not to deceive you, ma’am, what to think I did not know, nor don’t!”

Her first impulse, on learning from her spouse that a beautiful young lady, with a cloak-bag, had taken possession of Mr. Allandale’s parlour, with the expressed intention of remaining there until he returned to his lodging, had been to eject so bold a hussy immediately; but when she had sailed into the room to accomplish this desirable object she had suffered a check. She beheld Quality, and one did not turn Quality out of one’s house, however respectable one might be. But she had been on the watch for Mr. Allandale, and she had waylaid him on his entering the house, and had given him to understand that Goings-on under her roof she would not allow. It had struck her forcibly that upon hearing of his betrothed’s presence in his parlour he had looked queer—to put it no higher.

“Queer as Dick’s hatband,” corroborated Mr. Shotwick.

“I should think he dashed well would look queer!” said Mr. Hethersett, impatient of this circumstantial history.

“Ah!” said Mr. Shotwick. “‘Specially if he was trying to tip her the double, which was what we suspicioned, sir.”

“I’ll thank you not to use that nasty cant, Shotwick!” said the wife of his bosom sharply. “No such thought crossed my mind, not then it didn’t!”

“Not till the kick-up started,” agreed Mr. Shotwick. “Lor’, how she did take on! I thought we should have the neighbours in on us.” He shook his head mournfully. “You couldn’t help but compassionate her. But what has me fair flummoxed is the way he slumguzzled us! Because a quieter, nicer-behaved gentleman you couldn’t find, not if you was to look from here to Jericho! But he tipped her the rise, no question!”

“That’ll do!” said his wife. She looked significantly at Nell, and said darkly: “Not a word shall pass my lips with a gentleman present, but I ask you, ma’am, what is anyone to think when a sweet, pretty young thing carries on like she was desperate, and begs and implores a gentleman—if such you can call him!—to marry her?”

“Crying five loaves a penny, in course,” said Mr. Shotwick helpfully.

“Yes, never mind that! What I mean is, no such thing!” intervened Mr. Hethersett, devoutly trusting that this expression was unknown to Nell. Not that there was any chance that she hadn’t understood the gist of Mrs. Shotwick’s remarks: she was looking aghast, as well she might! “All I want to know is, did they leave this house together, and did you hear where they were bound for?”

“That I cannot say,” replied Mrs. Shotwick. “Leave it they did, in a post-chaise and pair.”

“A post-chaise!” Nell echoed, in a hollow voice.

“A post-chaise it was, ma’am, as I saw with my own eyes, and which Mr. Allandale stepped out to bespeak his own self,” nodded Mrs. Shotwick. “And this I will say: whatever he’s done, he means to do right by that poor young thing now, for when I asked him what was to be done he answered me straight out there was only one thing he could do. I don’t say he looked like he wanted to, but he was very resolute—oh, very resolute he was! He didn’t say anything more to me, but turned sharp about and came back into this very room, where Miss was laid down on that sofa, looking that wore out as never was. But what he said to her I don’t know, for he shut the door. All I do know is that whatever it was it had her up off of the sofa in a twinkling, and as happy as a grig! Then he went off to hire a chaise, and Miss called to me to help her pack his valise, and not another tear did she shed!”

“No need to worry about her, then,” said Mr. Hethersett, making the best of a bad business. “I’m much obliged to you!” He then requested Mr. Shotwick to step out in search of a hack, and cast an uneasy glance at Nell. She was looking quite stricken, but, to his relief, she did not speak until Mrs. Shotwick had curtseyed herself out of the room. He said curtly: “Going to take you home. Nothing to be done. Too late. Very scabby conduct of Allandale’s, but I’m bound to say I’m dashed sorry for him!”

“Oh, could he not have brought her back to her home?” Nell cried, wringing her hands.

“Not if she was screeching in hysterics,” said Mr. Hethersett, with considerable feeling. “What’s more, I don’t blame him!”

“I blame myself! If I had told Cardross of my suspicion! He might have been able then to have overtaken them, but now—! I was so certain Mr. Allandale would not—I thought I should be able to set the wretched business to rights, but I have only helped to ruin Letty!”

“Don’t see that at all,” he replied. “Plenty of time for Cardross to catch ‘em, if he wants to. Only travelling with a pair of horses. Wouldn’t make much difference if they had four. Give Cardross his curricle, and four good ‘uns, and I’d back him, over the distance, if they’d had twice as long a start of him. You ever seen Giles with a four-in-hand? Well, he’s top-of-the-trees, give you my word! Knows how to keep strange horses together, too.”

“Oh, do you think they could still be overtaken?” she said eagerly.

“Lord, yes! All we have to do—Now what is it?”

She had uttered a chagrined: “Oh!” and she now said: “Cardross is not at home. He was dining out, and I don’t know where!”

“No need to get into a taking over that,” replied Mr. Hethersett calmly. “Farley will know.”

This made her feel rather more cheerful, and upon Mr. Shotwick’s coming back to announce that a hack was waiting to take them up she started up, begging Mr. Hethersett to make haste.

There was certainly a hack standing in the street: a large and dilapidated vehicle, whose body, hanging drunkenly between two old-fashioned perches, showed by tarnished silverwork, and an almost obliterated coat of arms, that it had descended a long way in the social scale since the days when, with a powdered coachman on the box, and two Knights of the Rainbow standing up behind, it had been the town chariot of a nobleman. It was not at all the kind of carriage any person of fashion would now choose to ride in, but Nell and Mr. Hethersett, emerging from the house, found that their temporary possession of it was not to be undisputed. Two gentlemen were arguing with the jarvey on their right to claim it, and this worthy man had apparently found it necessary to come down from the box to preserve it from invasion.

Mr. Hethersett, after one glance, tried to obscure the scene from Nell’s view, saying tersely: “Better step inside again till I’ve got rid of ‘em!”

“But it’s Dysart!” said Nell.

“Yes, I know it is, but we haven’t any time to stand talking to him!” said Mr. Hethersett.

“No, of course not, but he is trying to hire our hackney, and he must not!” said Nell, trying to push him out of the way.

“For the lord’s sake, cousin, go back into the house!” begged Mr. Hethersett. “He ain’t alone!”

“No, but the other is only Mr. Fancot, and I think” said Nell knowledgeably, “that they are both of them a trifle foxed. Dysart!”

The Viscount, upon hearing himself addressed, turned. The light from the near-by street-lamp enabled him quite plainly to recognize his sister, but he knew better than to trust his eyes when he was (in his own estimation) a little above par. He called upon his companion for assistance. “Corny, that ain’t my sister Cardross, is it?”

“No,” said Mr. Fancot obligingly.

“What a horrid creature you are, Dy!” remarked Nell, descending the steps. “You cannot drive off in that coach, because it was brought for me, and I must have it. I am in the greatest haste, so do, pray, stop disputing with that poor man, and go away!”

“By God, it is my sister Cardross!” exclaimed the Viscount, thunderstruck.

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Fancot, smiling vaguely but with immense affability at Nell.

“Well, there’s no need to shout it all down the street!” said Mr. Hethersett tartly.

The Viscount looked intently at him, while he wrestled silently with a problem. “It’s you, is it?” he said, a certain kindling in his eyes, and a brooding note in his voice. “You, and my sister!”

Mr. Hethersett, who had foreseen from the start that something like this would happen, said soothingly: “Escorting her ladyship home!”

“Oh, you were, were you?” said the Viscount, showing signs of rising choler. “We’ll see that! Because it seems to me—Corny! Where are we?”

“Watier’s,” said Mr. Fancot, after a moment’s thought.

“No, we ain’t!” said his lordship, irritated.

“Going to Watier’s,” amended Mr. Fancot.

“I’ll tell you where we are!” announced the Viscount, in menacing accents. “We’re in Ryder Street!”

“That’s right, sir: Ryder Street it is,” said the jarvey encouragingly. “You don’t want no ‘ack to take you to Watier’s!”

“Ryder Street,” said the Viscount. “Now I know whose house you were coming out of! Now I know what made you take such an uncommon interest in my sister’s affairs! By God, if I don’t cut your liver out for this! As for you, my girl—”

“That’ll do!” interrupted Mr. Hethersett. “You can cut my liver out in the morning, but for the lord’s sake stop making such a damned kick-up in the street!”

“Not liver,” said Mr. Fancot positively, his wandering attention recalled by this word. “Duck. That’s what we said, Dy. Got a way of cooking it at Watier’s I like.”

“Well, you take Dysart there!” recommended Mr. Hethersett.

‘E can take him, but ‘e won’t never get ‘im past the porter, guv’nor, not as lushy as what they both are!” observed the jarvey sapiently.

“Yes, I will,” said Mr. Fancot. “It’s my birthday.”

“Get into the hack!” Mr. Hethersett said to Nell. “No, not you!”

Mr. Fancot, hauled off the step of the coach by the jarvey, called upon the Viscount to come and give this individual one in the bread-basket, but the Viscount had more important matters to attend to. Addressing himself to Mr. Hethersett, he commanded that harassed exquisite to name his friends.

Alarmed by his evident intention to force a quarrel on to Mr. Hethersett, Nell laid a hand on his arm, and said: “Dy, pray don’t be so gooseish! You quite mistake the matter, you know! Indeed, it is abominable of you to think such horrid things, besides being excessively embarrassing!”

“Don’t you try to bamboozle me!” replied her brother, shaking off her hand. “Are you going to name your friends, sir, or are you not?”

“You wouldn’t remember ‘em if I did. What you need is a damper: you’re as drunk as a brewer’s horse!”

“Oh, no, I’m not! I’ll tell you what you are! A damned loose fish! A regular hedge-bird! A man-milliner, by God! Cowhearted!”

“If you ain’t stale-drunk in the morning, come round to my place, and I’ll dashed well show you how cowhearted I am!” promised Mr. Hethersett, stung by these opprobrious terms. “It’ll be bellows to mend with you, what’s more! I’ve seen you sport your canvas at Jackson’s, and when it comes to handy-blows you ain’t any better than a moulder!”

“Now, by God—I” ejaculated the Viscount, squaring up to him.

The jarvey called out approvingly: “A mill, a mill!” Nell flung herself between the two incensed gentlemen; and Mr. Fancot, who had been standing wrapped in thought, suddenly announced his intention of driving to Watier’s in the hack, and disappeared round the back of the coach.

“Dysart, how dare you be so uncivil!” Nell said hotly. Pray don’t heed him, Felix! I was never so mortified! Dysart, if you say another word to Felix—”

“It don’t signify!” interrupted Mr. Hethersett, who had had time to recollect the impropriety of engaging in fisticuffs in a lady’s presence. “Forgot myself!” He looked at the Viscount. “If you want to fight, you can tell me so tomorrow! I’m going to escort her ladyship home now.”