The Black Moth (2 page)

Warburton ignored the bantering tone and spoke very deliberately.

"At all events, my lord, I believe him anxious to make–amends."

Carstares shot an alert, suspicious glance at him.

"Ah!"

"Yes, sir. Amends."

My lord studied his emerald with half-closed eyelids.

"But why–amends, Warburton?" he asked.

"Is not that the word, sir?"

"I confess it strikes me as inapt. Doubtless I am dull of comprehension."

"You were not wont to be, my lord."

"No? But six years changes a man, Warburton. Pray, is Mr. Carstares well?"

"I believe so, sir," replied the lawyer, frowning at the deft change of subject.

"And Lady Lavinia?"

"Ay." Mr. Warburton looked searchingly across at him, seeing which, my lord's eyes danced afresh, brim full with mischief.

"I am very delighted to hear it. Pray present my compliments to Mr. Carstares and beg him to use Wyncham as he wills."

"Sir! Master Jack! I implore you!" burst from the lawyer, and he sprang up, moving excitedly away, his hands twitching, his face haggard.

My lord stiffened in his chair. He watched the other's jerky movements anxiously, but his voice when he spoke was even and cold.

"Well, sir?"

Mr. Warburton wheeled and came back to the fireplace, looking hungrily down at my lord's impassive countenance. With an effort he seemed to control himself.

"Master Jack, I had better tell you what you have already guessed. I know."

Up went one haughty eyebrow.

"You know what, Mr. Warburton?"

"That you are innocent!"

"Of what, Mr. Warburton?"

"Of cheating at cards, sir!"

My lord relaxed, and flicked a speck of dust from his great cuff.

"I regret the necessity of having to disillusion you, Mr. Warburton."

"My lord, do not fence with me, I beg! You can trust me, surely?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Then do not keep up this pretence with me; no, nor look so hard neither! I've watched you grow up right from the cradle, and Master Dick too, and I know you both through and through. I
know
you never cheated at Colonel Dare's nor anywhere else! I could have sworn it at the time–ay, when I saw Master Dick's face, I knew at once that he it was who had played foul, and you had but taken the blame!"

"No!"

"I know better! Can you, Master Jack, look me in the face and truthfully deny what I have said? Can you? Can you?"

My lord sat silent.

With a sigh, Warburton sank on to the settle once more. He was flushed, and his eyes shone, but he spoke calmly again.

"Of course you cannot. I have never known you lie. You need not fear I shall betray you. I kept silence all these years for my lord's sake, and I will not speak now until you give me leave."

"Which I never shall."

"Master Jack, think better of it, I beg of you! Now that my lord is dead—"

"It makes no difference."

"No difference? 'Twas not for his sake? 'Twas not because you knew how he loved Master Dick?"

"No."

"Then 'tis Lady Lavinia—"

"No."

"But—"

My lord smiled sadly.

"Ah, Warburton! And you averred you knew us through and through! For whose sake should it be but his own?"

"I feared it!" The lawyer made a hopeless gesture with his hands. "You will not come back?"

"No, Warburton, I will not; Dick may manage my estates. I remain on the road."

Warburton made one last effort.

"My lord!" he cried despairingly, "Will you not at least think of the disgrace to the name an you be caught?"

The shadows vanished from my lord's eyes.

"Mr. Warburton, I protest you are of a morbid turn of mind! Do you know, I had not thought of so unpleasant a contingency? I swear I was not born to be hanged!"

The lawyer would have said more, had not the entrance of a servant, carrying a loaded tray, put an end to all private conversation. The man placed dishes upon the table, lighted candles, and arranged two chairs.

"Dinner is served, sir," he said.

My lord nodded, and made a slight gesture toward the windows. Instantly the man went over to them and drew the heavy curtains across.

My lord turned to Mr. Warburton.

"What say you, sir? Shall it be burgundy or claret, or do you prefer sack?"

Warburton decided in favour of claret.

"Claret, Jim," ordered Carstares, and rose to his feet.

"I trust the drive has whetted your appetite, Warburton, for honest Chadber will be monstrous hurt an you do not justice to his capons."

"I shall endeavour to spare his feelings," replied the lawyer with a twinkle, and seated himself at the table.

Whatever might be Mr. Chadber's failings, he possessed an excellent cook. Mr. Warburton dined very well, beginning on a fat duck, and continuing through the many courses that constituted the meal.

When the table was cleared, the servant gone, and the port before them, he endeavoured to guide the conversation back into the previous channels. But he reckoned without my lord, and presently found himself discussing the Pretender's late rebellion. He sat up suddenly.

"There were rumours that you were with the Prince, sir."

Carstares set down his glass in genuine amazement.

"I?"

"Indeed, yes. I do not know whence the rumour came, but it reached Wyncham. My lord said nought, but I think Mr. Richard hardly credited it."

"I should hope not! Why should they think me turned rebel, pray?"

Mr. Warburton frowned.

"Rebel, sir?"

"Rebel, Mr. Warburton. I have served under his Majesty."

"The Carstares were ever Tories, Master Jack, true to their rightful king."

"My dear Warburton, I owe nought to the Stuart princes. I was born in King George the First's reign, and I protest I am a good Whig."

Warburton shook his head disapprovingly.

"There has never been a Whig in the Wyncham family, sir."

"And you hope there never will be again, eh? What of Dick? Is he faithful to the Pretender?"

"I think Mr. Richard does not interest himself in politics, sir."

Carstares raised his eyebrows, and there fell a silence.

After a minute or two Mr. Warburton cleared his throat.

"I–I suppose, sir–you have no idea of–er–discontinuing your–er–profession?"

My lord gave an irrepressible little laugh.

"Faith, Mr. Warburton, I've only just begun!"

"Only— But a year ago, Mr. Richard—"

"I held him up? Ay, but to tell the truth, sir, I've not done much since then!"

"Then, sir, you are not–er–notorious?"

"Good gad, no! Notorious, forsooth! Confess, Warburton, you thought me some heroic figure? 'Gentleman Harry,' perhaps?"

Warburton blushed.

"Well, sir— I–er–wondered."

"I shall have to disappoint you, I perceive. I doubt Bow Street has never heard of me–and–to tell the truth–'tis not an occupation which appeals vastly to my senses."

"Then why, my lord, do you continue?"

"I must have some excuse for roaming the country," pleaded Jack. "I could not be idle."

"You are not–compelled to–er–rob, my lord?"

Carstares wrinkled his brow inquiringly.

"Compelled? Ah–I take your meaning. No, Warburton, I have enough for my wants–now; time was–but that is past. I rob for amusement's sake."

Warburton looked steadily across at him.

"I am surprised, my lord, that you, a Carstares, should find it–amusing."

John was silent for a moment, and when he at length spoke it was defiantly and with a bitterness most unusual in him.

"The world, Mr. Warburton, has not treated me so kindly that I should feel any qualms of conscience. But, an it gives you any satisfaction to know it, I will tell you that my robberies are few and far between. You spoke a little while ago of my probable–ah–fate–on Tyburn Tree. I think you need not fear to hear of that."

"I— It gives me great satisfaction, my lord, I confess," stammered the lawyer, and found nothing more to say. After a long pause he again produced the bulky roll of parchment and laid it down before the Earl with the apologetic murmur of:

"Business, my lord!"

Carstares descended from the clouds and eyed the packet with evident distaste. He proceeded to fill his and his companion's glass very leisurely. That done, he heaved a lugubrious sigh, caught Mr. Warburton's eye, laughed in answer to its quizzical gleam, and broke the seal.

"Since you
will
have it, sir–business!"

* * * * *

Mr. Warburton stayed the night at the Chequers and travelled back to Wyncham next day by the two o'clock coach. He played piquet and écarté with my lord all the evening, and then retired to bed, not having found an opportunity to argue his mission as he had hoped to do. Whenever he had tried to turn the conversation that way he had been gently but firmly led into safer channels, and somehow had found it impossible to get back. My lord was the gayest and most charming of companions, but talk "business " he would not. He regaled the lawyer with spicy anecdotes and tales of abroad, but never once allowed Mr. Warburton to speak of his home or of his brother.

The lawyer retired to rest in a measure reassured by the other's good spirits, but at the same time dispirited by his failure to induce Carstares to return to Wyncham.

Next morning, although he was not up until twelve, he was before my lord, who only appeared in time for lunch, which was served as before in the oak parlour.

He entered the room in his usual leisurely yet decided fashion and made Mr. Warburton a marvellous leg. Then he bore him off to inspect his mare, Jenny, of whom he was inordinately proud. By the time they returned to the parlour luncheon was served, and Mr. Warburton realised that he had scarcely any time left in which to plead his cause.

My lord's servant hovered continually about the room, waiting on them, until his master bade him go to attend to the lawyer's valise. When the door had closed on his retreating form, Carstares leaned back in his chair, and, with a rather dreary little smile, turned to his companion.

"You want to reason with me, I know, Mr. Warburton, and, indeed, I will listen an I must. But I would so much rather that you left the subject alone, believe me."

Warburton sensed the finality in his voice, and wisely threw away his last chance.

"I understand 'tis painful, my lord, and I will say no more. Only remember–and think on it, I beg!"

The concern in his face touched my lord.

"You are too good to me, Mr. Warburton, I vow. I can only say that I appreciate your kindness–and your forbearance. And I trust that you will forgive my seeming churlishness and believe that I am indeed grateful to you."

"I wish I might do more for you, Master Jack!" stammered Warburton, made miserable by the wistful note in his favourite's voice. There was no time for more; the coach already awaited him, and his valise had been hoisted up. As they stood together in the porch, he could only grip my lord's hand tightly and say good-bye. Then he got hurriedly into the coach, and the door was slammed behind him.

My lord made his leg, and watched the heavy vehicle move forward and roll away down the street. Then with a stifled sigh he turned and walked towards the stables. His servant saw him coming and went at once to meet him.

"The mare, sir?"

"As you say, Jim–the mare. In an hour."

He turned and would have strolled back.

"Sir–your honour!"

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Well?"

"They're on the look-out, sir. Best be careful."

"They always are, Jim. But thanks."

"Ye–ye wouldn't take me with ye, sir?" pleadingly.

"Take you? Faith, no! I've no mind to lead you into danger. And you serve me best by remaining to carry out my orders."

The man fell back.

"Ay, sir; but–but—"

"There are none, Jim."

"No, sir–but ye
will
have a care?"

"I will be the most cautious of men." He walked away on the word, and passed into the house.

In an hour he was a very different being. Gone was the emerald ring, the foppish cane; the languid air, too, had disappeared, leaving him brisk and businesslike. He was dressed for riding, with buff coat and buckskin breeches, and shining top boots. A sober brown wig replaced the powdered creation, and a black tricorne was set rakishly atop.

He stood in the deserted porch, watching Jim strap his baggage to the saddle, occasionally giving a curt direction. Presently Mr. Chadber appeared with the stirrup-cup, which he drained and handed back with a word of thanks and a guinea at the bottom.