The Master of the Ceremonies

before her, and his lips parted to speak, but heresumed his hurried walk, ending by catching her hands and kissing them.

  "Good-bye," he said abruptly. "I shall try to be your friend, and--andI never loved you half so much as I do now."

  He left the room, and Claire heard his footsteps on the path, and then,in spite of herself, she stole towards the window from which she saw himgo slowly along the Parade, looking bent, and as if his coming had agedhim ten years at least.

  The opening of the drawing-room door roused Claire, and turning, she sawthat her father had entered, and that he was trembling as he gazed ather with a curiously wistful look that was one long question.

  Claire shook her head slowly as she returned his gaze, with her thoughtsreverting to the night when she sank fainting where she stood, and thenotes of the serenade floated in at the window.

  "No, father," she said softly; "it would be impossible."

  "Yes," he said feebly; "impossible!"

  Volume Three, Chapter X.

  THE STORM-CLOUD BURSTS.

  That night, as Claire sat by the open window of her bedroom, where Maylay sleeping, and the flowers that she had tended so carefully in thepast for the most part withered and dry, her thoughts went back to themorning's interview with Lord Carboro', and there was a feeling ofregret in her breast as she thought of the old man's chivalrousdevotion.

  Then her heart seemed to stand still, and again beat with a wild tumultas she told herself that the silent reproach she had felt was notjustified; that it was her own doing, that Richard Linnell was not ather side. For that was his step, and she knew that he would stopopposite to her darkened window and gaze upwards before passing on.

  There was pleasure and yet pain in the thought, for she felt that thoughit was impossible that they could ever even be friends, he must believein her and she must dwell in his heart.

  How often might he not have passed like that, and looked up, thinking ofher!

  It was a pleasant thought, but one that she dismissed at once, as if itwere a temptation.

  Trying to stop her ears to the sounds, she crept back from the window,and bent over May, who seemed to be sleeping more easily; and a feelingof hope began to lighten the darkness in her heart, and the black shadowof dread that so oppressed her was forgotten, till, all at once, it cameback, blacker, more impenetrable than ever, as the sound of voices loudin altercation rose from below.

  Claire's heart stood still, and she held on by a chair-back, listeningwith her lips apart, and wondering whether this was the bolt fallen atlast--the blow she was always dreading, and that she felt must one daycome.

  She crept to the door, passed out and listened, closing it after herthat the noise might not awaken May, to whom sleep meant life.

  Angry voices rose, and then there were the sounds of blows struckapparently with a cane. Then there was a scuffling noise, and the frontdoor was driven back.

  "Leave the house, scoundrel! leave my house, insolent dog!" came upsharp and clear in her father's voice, quivering with anger, and thescuffle was renewed.

  "You pay me my wages; you pay me what you owe me, or I don't stir astep."

  The voice that uttered these last words was thick and husky, and full ofmenace. It was a familiar voice, though, that Claire recognised, andher cheeks burned with shame as she felt that passers-by, perhapsRichard Linnell, would hear the degrading words that were uttered.

  Her sister lying there sick, and this pitiful disturbance that wasincreasing in loudness, and must be heard by any one who happened to beupon the Parade!

  She hurried down to find that the scuffling sounds had been renewed, andas she reached the passage it was to find that her father was trying todrag Isaac to the door, and force him into the road, where quite alittle crowd was collecting.

  "Leave this house, sir, directly."

  "I shan't for you," cried Isaac, resisting stoutly. "I want my wages.I want my box."

  "Leave this house, you drunken insolent scoundrel!"

  "Father! for pity's sake," cried Claire, trying to interfere.

  "No, no; stand back, my child," cried the old man angrily. "He has comeback again to-night tipsy. He has insulted me once more, and he shallnot stay here--I can turn him out, and I will."

  "Not you, and I shan't go," hiccupped Isaac, seizing the plinth at thebottom of the balusters and holding on. "I don't go from here 'thout mymoney--every penny of it, so now, old Denville."

  "Pray, pray let me pass, father, and shut the door," cried Claire.

  "No, my dear," said the old man, whose blood was now up. "He shallleave this house at once."

  "No, I shan't leave neither without my box."

  The struggle went on, and the lamp would have been knocked off thebracket but for Claire's hand. The contending parties swayed here andthere, but it was evident that the footman was far the stronger, whileDenville's forces were failing moment by moment.

  "Can I be of any assistance, Mr Denville?" said a voice that thrilledClaire through and through, but which made her shrink back up a fewstairs to avoid being seen.

  "Who's that?--Mr Linnell? Yes," panted Denville. "My servant, sir--mylacquey. This is the fourth time he has come back from being absentwithout leave, intoxicated, sir. Tipsy. Not fit to come into agentleman's presence."

  "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Isaac--"Gentleman's presence! I don't call you agentleman. Why, you're all that's mean and shabby and poor. Just youpay me my wages in arrears."

  "Come to-morrow, scoundrel," said Denville loftily. "Mr Linnell, ifyou would kindly send one of the people outside for a constable. Hewill find one by the Assembly-Room. Let him say that the man is wantedat Mr Denville's--at the Master of the Ceremonies', and he will come ondirectly."

  Linnell glanced up at where Claire was turning back in shame anddistress of mind, little thinking that in a few minutes she would bebravely standing at her father's side.

  "Fetch a constable!" cried Isaac defiantly. "Do, if you dare. What doI care for a constable?"

  "Why don't you pay the man his wages?" said a voice at the door.

  "Ah, to be sure," cried Isaac, with a tipsy laugh. "Why don't you paythe man his wages? 'Cause you can't. Beggarly old upstart."

  "Silence, you scoundrel!" cried Linnell fiercely, "or I'll drag you outand throw you over the cliff for your insolence."

  "Do it--do it!" cried Isaac fiercely. "Who's afraid?"

  "Silence, dog!" cried Denville, catching up his cane.

  "Don't strike him, Mr Denville," said Linnell. "Some one there fetch aconstable. Five shillings for the first man who brings one here."

  "Don't you, m'lads," cried Isaac. "He daren't send for a constable. Itell you he daren't--not for me. Send for one for himself."

  Claire trembled and shuddered at those words; and, had it been possible,she would have ended the scene at any cost, but she was helpless.

  For a moment Linnell had thought of seizing and dragging out the tipsyservant; but on second consideration he felt that it might just as wellbe done by some one in authority, so, hurrying out, he despatched one ofthe crowd in another direction to that taken by the two or three who hadhurried off on the promise of a reward, and then turned back to see ifhe could be of any further service.

  "Cons'able for me!" said Isaac, with tipsy gravity. "I like that. Ilike that--much. Let him come. Make him pay me _my_ wages. Then I'llgo. Not before, if all the old Masters o' Ceremonies in England wantedme to go."

  "The insolent scoundrel!" panted Denville; "after all I've done for himsince he came to me a boy."

  "Done for me! Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Isaac; "kept me on short commons, anddidn't pay my wages. Now, then, are you going to pay my money?"

  "Here he is." "Here's one," rose in chorus, and way was made for thefussy-looking individual who occupied the post of chief constable ofSaltinville.

  "Now, then, what's this?" he said.

  "Tipsy servant," chorussed half--a--dozen voices. "Drunk."

  "My servant, Mr C
ordy," said Denville importantly. "He hasmisconducted himself again and again. You see the condition he is in."

  "Yes, I see," said the constable. "Come along."

  "Wait till he pays my wages," hiccupped Isaac.

  "You can talk about that another time," said the constable importantly."Come along."

  He seized the footman, gave him a shake which wrenched his fingers fromtheir hold upon the bottom of the balusters, and with another shakejerked him upon his feet.

  But Isaac was not going to be dragged off like that without making ascene, and he shouted out:

  "Stop!"

  "Well, what is it?" said the constable.

  "Does he give me into custody, cons'ble?"

  "Yes. Come along."

  "Then I give him into custody--do you hear?--custody--for murder. Iwon't go alone."

  "There, come along, fool," cried the constable.

  "No--not without him," cried Isaac. "Murder!"

  "Silence!" cried Denville excitedly, as Claire rushed down the stairsand caught her father's arm.

  "Shan't silence!" yelled the man, who now threw off his half-tipsy,contemptuous manner, and seemed stung by the treatment he had receivedinto a fit of furious passion. "I give him into custody--for murder."

  "Nonsense! Hold your tongue, and come along," cried the constable;while Linnell seized the man on the other side, and hurriedly tried toforce him out.

  But it is not easy to get a man along a narrow passage if he resistsfiercely; and so they found, for, setting his feet against the edge ofthe dining-room door, Isaac thrust himself back, and yelled to thethrong at the door:

  "Do you hear? For murder! I charge this man--Denville--with killingold Lady Teigne."

  "Silence, villain!" hissed Linnell in his ear, as he darted an agonisedglance at where Claire was half supporting her father, while the blackcloud she had seen impending so long seemed to have fallen at last.

  "Silence? When there's murder?" shouted Isaac. "I tell you I heard anoise, and got up, and then I saw him go to Lady Teigne's room, thenight she was murdered. Ask him there who did it, and see what he'llsay."

  "Father, come away!" panted Claire, as she threw herself before him, asif to defend him against this terrible charge.

  "What's that?" cried the constable. "Oh, nonsense! Come along."

  "I tell you it's true," cried Isaac, with drunken fierceness; "it'strue. I saw him go to her room. Let him deny it if he can."

  Denville stood up, holding tightly by Claire's arm, and looking wildlyfrom one to the other as a strange murmur rose amongst thefast-augmenting crowd. Then, as if it were vain to fight against thecharge, he made a lurch forward, recovered himself, and sank into achair, Richard Linnell catching sight of his ghastly countenance beforehe covered it with his hands.

  "It is a false charge, constable," cried Linnell hastily. "Take thatman away."

  "It's all true," snarled Isaac, with drunken triumph. "Look at him.Let him say he didn't do it if he dare!"

  As every eye was fixed upon him, the Master of the Ceremonies did notmove; he made no bold defiance, but seemed half paralysed by the boltthat had fallen--one from which his child had failed to screen him,though she had thrown herself upon his breast.

  Volume Three, Chapter XI.

  AFTER THE STORM.

  Matters ran their course rapidly during the following days. The blackcloud that had so long been threatening had come down lower and nearer,and had at last poured forth its storm upon Denville's devoted head.And now, as he sat thinking, all that had passed seemed misty anddreamlike, and yet he knew that it was true.

  There was the finish of that terrible night, when, forced by the directcharge of his servant, the constable had taken steps against him. Hehad been arrested; there had been magisterial examinations, and appealsto him to declare his innocency; he, the magistrates' respectedtownsman, charged with this horrible crime by a drunken servant!

  But he had made no denial, only listened with a strange apathy, as ifstunned, and ready to give up everything as hopeless. In fact, sowilling did he seem to accept his position that, after examination andadjournment--one of which was really to give the broken-down, prostrateman an opportunity for making some defence--the magistrates had had nooption but to commit the prisoner for trial.

  All Saltinville had been greatly concerned, and thus taken off the scentof the previous trouble at the Master of the Ceremonies' house. Thedeparture of Frank Burnett from the town, and the state of his wife'shealth, became exceedingly secondary matters. Sir Harry Payne's woundwas of no more importance than Lady Drelincourt's rheumatic fever,brought on by exposure on the Downs at her age. People forgot, too, tonotice that Sir Matthew Bray was clear of his arrest, and to heed therumour floating about at Miss Clode's, that Lady Drelincourt had paidSir Matthew's debts, her affection for the big heavy dragoon havingreceived a strong accession from the fact that her love was no longerdivided, her overfed dog having died, evidently from plethora.

  Ordinary affairs were in abeyance, and everyone talked of Lady Teigne'smurder, and metaphorically dug the old belle up again to investigate theaffair, and, so to speak, hold a general inquest without the coroner'shelp.

  Lord Carboro' took the matter down on the pier with him and sat at theend to watch Fisherman Dick shrimping; and as he watched him he did notthink of the sturdy Spanish-looking fellow, but of Lady Teigne's jewels,and as he thought he tried to undo this knot.

  "If Denville killed the old woman for her diamonds, how is it heremained so poor?"

  "Thinking, Lord Carboro'?" said a voice.

  The old beau looked up quickly and encountered the dark eyes of MajorRockley, who had also been intently watching Dick Miggles, using anopera-glass, so as to see him empty the shrimps into his creel.

  "Yes: thinking," said Lord Carboro' in a short, sharp way. "Like toknow what I was thinking?"

  The Major shrugged his shoulders.

  "Of the sea, perhaps, or the vessels passing, or Lady Drelincourt'sillness."

  "No, sir," said Lord Carboro' shortly. "I was thinking of Lady Teigne'sjewels."

  Rockley raised his eyebrows, and looked at the old man curiously.

  "Of Lady Teigne's jewels?"

  "Yes, sir; and it seems a strange thing to me that if Denville killedthe old woman for her diamonds, he has not become rich."

  "To be sure," said Rockley; "it does seem strange."

  "It's all strange, sir, deuced strange," said the old man. "Took meaback, for I never suspected Denville, and I don't suspect him now."

  They stood looking at each other for a few minutes, and then Rockleysaid quietly:

  "A great many people seem to believe him innocent. Do you think theywill get him off?"

  "Yes, of course--of course, sir. It would be an abominable thing tobring such a charge home to the poor old fellow. Why, I suppose, sir,that even you would not wish that."

  "I should be deeply grieved, my lord," said Rockley. "Good morning."

  "The scoundrel's still thinking about Claire," said the old beau, as hesat gazing after the handsome cavalry officer. "Well, it's of no use tosit here. I'll go up to Clode's, and see if there is any news."

  He trudged slowly along the pier and the Parade, stopping now and thento take a pinch of snuff.

  He was indulging in a very big pinch, standing by the edge of the path,when there was the trampling of hoofs, and Cora Dean's pony-carriage wasdrawn up by his side.

  "Let me drive you there," said Cora's deep, rich voice.

  "Drive me! Where?" said the old man.

  "Where you ought to be going; to the prison to see poor Mr Denville,and get him out. I haven't patience with you people leaving the poorold man there--you who professed to be his friends."

  "Hah! Yes! No, I don't think I'll trouble you, my dear Miss Dean,"said the old man, recovering his balance, and speaking in his oldsarcastic tone. "You are such a female Jehu."

  "Such a what?" said Cora.

  "Female Jeh
u, my dear. You drive furiously, but you can't control yoursteeds. I don't want to be brought ashore in triumph. It's all verywell for you to come on to the beach like a goddess in your car, but tome it means rheumatism and pain. So, no thanks."

  "And you are going to leave Mr Denville in trouble?"

  "Perhaps," said his lordship drily. "We're a heartless lot down here,and I'm one of the worst."

  "And you think that poor old man killed Lady Teigne."

  "No, I don't, my dear Miss Dean; but even if he had done so I don'tthink he ought to be punished. It was a meritorious action."

  "Oh, Lord Carboro'!"

  "It was, my dear madam; and if some enterprising party would come andkill off Lady Drelincourt and your humble servant, and a few more ofthat stamp, it would be a blessing to society. What do you think?"

  "I think that a poor old man is lying in prison," said Cora Dean,tightening her reins; "that his broken-hearted child is tending