“You know, Kitten,” he said, outside her chamber door, “if anything were to happen to me at any time — mind you, I don’t say anything will, but you never know! — well, what I mean is, I’ve made all the proper provisions, and — and no strings tied to ’em, so that you’ll be able to marry again, if you choose.”

“I never, never should!” Hero said, holding his hand very tightly.

“No reason why you shouldn’t. Only don’t have George, brat! He wouldn’t suit you at all!”

“Sherry, don’t!” she begged. “Nothing will happen to you!”

“No, I dare say not, but I thought I might just mention the matter,” he said carelessly. “And if it did, I wouldn’t wish you to fret about it, you know.”

“No, no, I won’t!” she promised. “Only don’t talk in that way, Sherry, for even though I know nothing will happen to you I do not like it!”

“Silly little puss!” he said, pinching her nose. “Did you enjoy the play?”

“Oh, I did!”

“Well, I’m glad of that, at all events,” he said, and on this altruistic thought took himself upstairs to bed.

His cousin Ferdy called at the house for him at a chill, slightly misty hour on the following morning. The Viscount was quite ready for him, and except that he looked a trifle more serious than was customary, he seemed to be in good spirits. He jumped up into the tilbury beside Ferdy, his many-caped greatcoat buttoned up to his throat, and asked briskly: “Got the pistols?”

“Gil has,” replied Ferdy. He added: “Thought we had best engage a surgeon too, just in case .... Still, I dare say he won’t be needed.”

“You never know,” said the Viscount. “Mist’s lifting nicely. Couldn’t have had a better morning for it!”

They arrived at the appointed meeting-place to find George and Mr Ringwood already upon the ground. The two principals exchanged formal bows. The seconds, inspecting the deadly weapons, held a short, whispered colloquy.

“George said anything to you?” asked Ferdy.

“No. Putting on airs to be interesting,” replied Mr Ringwood, with brutal candour.

“Dash it, he can’t mean to blow a hole through Sherry!”

“Just what I think myself. Queer I didn’t hear from Lady Sherry, though.”

While this dialogue was in progress, Sherry had cast off his drab driving coat, and buttoned the plain, dark coat he wore under it up to his chin, so that it completely hid his white shirt. He had been careful to choose a coat with small, dark buttons, so that he should afford his adversary no unnecessary mark; and he noticed, with some annoyance, that Lord Wrotham, as though in open contempt of his marksmanship, was wearing the blue and yellow striped waistcoat of the Four Horse Club, and a coat with gleaming silver buttons.

The paces were measured; the principals took up their positions, the duelling pistols, with their ten-inch barrels and hair-triggers set at half cock, pointing earthwards; the seconds retreated eight paces; the doctor turned his back upon the proceedings; and Mr Ringwood took out a handkerchief, and held it up. As it fell, George jerked up his right hand, and deloped. A second later the Viscount’s bullet buried itself in a tree trunk quite three feet to the left of his opponent. The next instant he had lowered his pistol, and said furiously: “Damn you, George, will you stop being noble?”

“Good God, Sherry!” George said, disgustedly surveying the wounded tree, “you can do better than that, dash it, man!”

“Better than that? I meant to hit it!” retorted Sherry, much incensed.

“Who’s being noble now?” demanded George, strolling across the ground to give his pistol up to Mr Ringwood. “You must have been practising. Here you are, Gil!”

Mr Ringwood, too relieved for speech, took the weapon, held out his hand for Sherry’s and restored both to their case. The late antagonists looked at one another measuringly.

“What I’ve a dashed good mind to do,” said Sherry, “is to take my coat off to you, George, and see if I can’t draw your claret! It’s what I ought to have done in the first place!”

“No, my God, not before we’ve had breakfast!” replied George. His reluctant grin dawned; he thrust out his hand. “I’m sorry, Sherry! Never meant to do it, you know, and really there wasn’t a mite of harm in it.”

“Oh, go to the devil!” responded Sherry, gripping his hand. “If ever I met such a fellow! Here, did you think to order breakfast, Ferdy?”

Chapter Fourteen

THE LAST SHREDS OF ANIMOSITY VANISHED over the substantial breakfast provided by the landlord of an adjacent inn; and so mellowing was the effect of the ale with which the four young gentlemen washed down vast quantities of beef, ham, and pigeon pie, that Sherry had no hesitation in allowing his friends to share the jest of his having actually gone to the lengths of drawing up his Will on the previous day. George shouted with laughter when he heard about this, and said that if he had known that Sherry could hit a tree when he aimed at it he would very likely have drawn up his own Will. This naturally put Sherry on his mettle, and he at once challenged George to a shooting contest, to be held at Manton’s Gallery. Mr Ringwood and Mr Fakenham, always ready for a side bet, objected that unless George were to be suitably handicapped no one in his senses would bet against him, and the rest of the meal passed in arguing over all the more impossible forms of handicap which suggested themselves to four gentlemen in the sort of high spirits into which sudden relief from twenty-four hours of anxiety had plunged them. When they finally left the inn, Ferdy and Mr Ringwood went off together in Ferdy’s tilbury, and George took up Sherry in his phaeton, promising to set him down in Half Moon Street.

“Kitten will be wanting to be assured of your safety,” he grinned.

“Oh, she don’t know anything about it!” replied Sherry.

George made no remark upon this for a moment or two, but when he had thought the matter over he decided to be open with Sherry. He said frankly: “Yes, she does. Wasn’t going to tell you, but now I come to think of it your coachman knows, and ten to one if you heard of it through him you’d be wanting to cut my liver out again. It was Gil’s fault. Ferdy’s too. The silly gudgeons thought I meant to kill you. They must think I’m a rum ’un! What must they do but go off to tell Kitten the whole! The lord knows what they thought she could do, for even Ferdy can’t have supposed you’d rat, and they can’t either of them have meant that she should come to see me — which is what she did do.”

“What?” gasped Sherry.

George nodded. “Yesterday morning. You know, Sherry, you ought to keep an eye on your Kitten. Not my business, but she’s such a baby there’s no knowing what she’ll do next. Came to beg me not to meet you.”

“If that isn’t like Kitten!” exclaimed Sherry. “You know, George, there’s no keeping pace with her at all! How was I to guess I ought to have warned her to take a hackney, if she meant to call at a man’s lodgings?”

George looked a trifle startled, and said: “The point is she ought not to call at a fellow’s lodgings, old boy.”

“No, by Jove, she ought not!” agreed Sherry. “Devil of a business being married, George! You’ve no notion! Never thought I should be kept so busy, but what with the Royal Saloon, the Peerless Pool — yes, I was only in the very nick of time to stop her going off there! — Bartholomew Fair, and now this, not to mention a few other starts — dash it, I don’t have a quiet moment!”

“She don’t mean a bit of harm, Sherry,” said George awkwardly.

“Oh, lord, no! The thing is, she ain’t up to snuff yet, and that cousin of hers never put her in the way of things.”

George feather-edged a corner before saying: “I dare say she wouldn’t do anything she thought you might not like. Devilish fond of you, Sherry.”

“Yes, I’ve known her since she was eight years old, you see,” responded Sherry, with an unconcern that effectually silenced his friend.

While these events had been taking place, Hero had received an early morning visit from Miss Milborne, who was ushered into the dining-room before the breakfast dishes had been removed from the table. She was looking rather pale, and she bore herself with something less than her usual poise. Without pausing to apologize for calling at so unseasonable an hour, she said impetuously: “You were right! I have not been able to sleep for thinking of it! Indeed I did not mean to be so disobliging! I will do what I may to dissuade Wrotham from engaging in this affair!”

There was not a particle of malice in Hero’s nature, and she responded at once with the sunniest of smiles, and a warm handclasp. “Oh, I knew I could not be mistaken in you, Isabella! I am very much obliged to you, only it is too late, for they went off some hours ago to Westbourn Green. I cannot imagine what can be detaining them so long!”

Miss Milborne stared at her in horror. “They have gone? And you can sit here, eating your breakfast, as though — And you called me heartless!”

Hero gave a little chuckle. “Oh, but there is nothing to be worried about! George promised me he would not hurt a hair of Sherry’s head. He said he would fire in the air, so I can be quite comfortable, you see!”

“And what,” asked Miss Milborne, in a strangled voice, “if it is Sherry who kills George?”

“Well, I thought of that, too,” admitted Hero. “But George assured me Sherry could not hit him at twenty-five yards, and I expect he must know. Do let me give you some coffee, Isabella!”

“Thank you, no. I collect that you actually called on Wrotham at his lodging?”

“Yes, for what else could I do, when you would not help me? And, indeed, I am very sorry that I troubled you, Isabella, for there was not the least need: George told me instantly that I need have no fear for Sherry. And Gil said I must particularly request you not to mention the matter to a soul, and I forgot to do so.”

“Make yourself easy on that score: I should not think of prattling upon such a subject!” Miss Milborne said, in a colourless tone. “I must not stay. I am happy to know that my intervention was not needed.”

Hero perceived that she had in some way erred, and said nervously: “No, but — but I do hope you do not think — George said that he had not the least notion of killing Sherry, you see, so perhaps my intervention was not needed either.”

“Very likely,” said Miss Milborne. “It is a case of all’s well that ends well, in fact.”

“Yes, only — Isabella, pray do not be thinking that George cares a button for me, for nothing could be more nonsensical!”

Miss Milborne gave a tinkling little laugh. “My dear, if I trust that he does not it is quite for your own sake, I assure you! It is nothing to me whom he cares for. Now, indeed, I must go, for I have to drive out presently with Mama! We shall meet at Almack’s, I dare say. Do you go to the Cowpers’ party? I need not ask, however! all the world and his wife will be there, I collect!”

Hero was so much quelled by this bright manner that she could summon up no more courage than sufficed to allow her to escort her friend to the front door, and bid her a somewhat faltering farewell. She began to be much afraid that she had done poor George a very ill turn; and until the sound of Sherry’s step in the hall banished any but the most cheerful thoughts she sat wondering how she could best set matters to rights for that ill starred lover.

Sherry came cheerfully in, and, as she jumped up, took her by the shoulders and shook her, not very hard, saying: “Kitten, you little wretch, how dared you ask George not to blow a hole through me?”

“But I did not wish him to blow a hole through you, Sherry!” she replied reasonably. “What else could I do? Only I am afraid I have made Isabella very angry, and I don’t know what to do!”

“What the deuce has Isabella to say to anything?” he demanded.

“Well, you see, I asked her if she would speak to George, but she — she did not seem to understand any more than you did how George came to kiss me, and she would not do it, and now she is — ”

“You asked Isabella to intercede with George for me?” gasped Sherry, the indulgent grin wiped suddenly from his face.

She raised a pair of dismayed eyes. “Oh, dear, perhaps I should not have mentioned that! Please do not mind it, Sherry!”

“Not mind it! Do you know that you have done your best to make me the laughing stock of the town?”

“Oh, no, Sherry, truly not! Isabella was not in the least amused, I assure you!”