Mr Belfort pondered it. ‘I don’t see that, Dev. No, I don’t see that he can do that. But as for meeting Rensley after this, it’s not to be thought of. Mind that, Peter! Not to be thought of !’
Prudence assumed an air of hesitation, and made some demur. It seemed safe. She was sternly over-ruled, but Mr Devereux said it did her credit. He went off with Mr Belfort to wait upon Mr Rensley’s seconds.
Prudence was left to make what she might of it. On the face of it, it looked as though the large gentleman had once more scared away the wolf. But wh
y? That gave food for serious reflection. What did he suspect, forsooth? Or had he merely a mind to interpose on behalf of a boy for whom he had some kindness? She could not think he had pierced her disguise; faith, it was too good for that, surely! She went upstairs to Robin, and gave him the full sum of it.
Robin threw her a straight look under his lashes. ‘I’m to understand you had it in mind to meet Rensley with never a word to me?’
‘Just, child. Don’t eat me!’
‘I’m more likely to beat you. You must be mad indeed!’
She perceived him to be in something of a rage, and made haste to divert him. ‘I’ve to thank Sir Anthony, for my deliverance. What have you to say to that?’
‘You’re of opinion he has your secret? You must have been mighty indiscreet!’
‘Not a whit. I’ve given not the smallest reason for him to suspect me, I swear. Unless –’ She broke off, frowning. ‘There was the little matter of staying with him at Wych End. No more.’
Robin shrugged that aside. ‘I hold to my opinion. But if he suspects – why, it seems he’s a mind to keep his counsel.’
‘It’s a comfortable belief, child. Give you joy of it. I dine with him to-morrow. Be sure, I step warily.’
In another part of the town there was a gentleman quite as shocked as Mr Belfort over the morning’s happenings, and infinitely more enraged. Mr Markham went off to Grosvenor Square, and found his friend Rensley abed, and very sore.
Mr Markham broke out with a ‘What’s to do now, a’ God’s name?’
Rensley lay staring at the bedpost, and said only: – ‘Fanshawe forced the quarrel on to me.’
‘God’s life, were you not pledged to Merriot?’
‘Oh ay, you’re mighty anxious to see him trounced, aren’t you?’
‘To hell with that!’ All Mr Markham’s flattering deference towards his friend was fast departing. ‘Here’s Belfort and Devereux mighty haughty – damme, they’ve reason! – and say their man won’t fight. And Jessup and I have to make your excuses for you, and look a pair of fools! You make us ridiculous, Rensley, curse it!’
Mr Rensley received this in silence.
‘Burn it, you must needs spoil all!’ Markham said in disgust. ‘What madness took you?’
‘I tell you it was forced on me!’ Rensley exploded.
‘Forced be damned! You were pledged to meet Merriot, and Fanshawe must have known it.’
Mr Rensley raised himself on his sound elbow. ‘What, you’d have me swallow a blow in the face, would you? Ay, I make no doubt you’d take it!’
‘Oh, I’ll leave you!’ Markham said, and swung round on his heel.
‘It’s little enough help you’ve ever been to me, sure!’ sneered Rensley. ‘Your Munich gaming-houses!’
‘It’s little help you’ll have from me in the future!’ Mr Markham cried, and left his friend fuming.
He was let out of the house by a solemn lackey, who had spent the morning discussing his master’s freak below-stairs. He walked down the steps, and became aware of a shabby gentleman, hesitating by the railings. He looked with casual interest, wondering what this individual wanted.
The shabby gentleman accosted him. ‘Your pardon, sir, but does my Lord Barham live here?’
Mr Markham gave a short laugh. ‘There’s certainly a man within calls himself Lord Barham,’ he said.
The shabby gentleman looked a little puzzled. ‘It’s – it’s a small man, with a hook nose,’ he ventured. ‘That’s the man I want to see, sir.’