The Castle Inn Part 45

'Yes, sir.'

Mr. Dunborough burst into rude laughter. 'Oh, Lord!' he said. 'Are we grown so proper of a sudden? Her father, damme!'

Sir George shot a glance of disdain at him. Then, 'My good fellow,' he said to the host, 'her father has been dead these fifteen years.'

The landlord reddened, annoyed by the way Mr. Dunborough had taken him.

'The gentleman mistakes me, Sir George,' he said stiffly. 'I did not ask out of curiosity, as you, who know me, can guess; but to be plain, your honour, there are two gentlemen below stairs, just come in; and what beats me, though I did not tell them so, they are also in search of a young lady.'

'Indeed?' Sir George answered, looking gravely at him. 'Probably they are from the Castle Inn at Marlborough, and are inquiring for the lady we are seeking.'

'So I should have thought,' the landlord answered, nodding sagely; 'but one of the gentlemen says he is her father, and the other--'

Sir George stared. 'Yes?' he said, 'What of the other?'

'Is Mr. Pomeroy of Bastwick,' the host replied, lowering his voice.

'Doubtless your honour knows him?'

'By name.'

'He has naught to do with the young lady?'

'Nothing in the world.'

'I ask because--well, I don't like to speak ill of the quality, or of those by whom one lives, Sir George; but he has not got the best name in the county; and there have been wild doings at Bastwick of late, and writs and bailiffs and worse. So I did not up and tell him all I knew.'

On a sudden Dunborough spoke. 'He was at College, at Pembroke,' he said.

'Doyley knows him. He'd know Tommy too; and we know Tommy is with the girl, and that they were both dropped Layc.o.c.k way. Hang me, if I don't think there is something in this!' he continued, thrusting his feet into slippers: his boots were drying on the hearth. 'Thoma.s.son is rogue enough for anything! See here, man,' he went on, rising and flinging down his napkin; 'do you go down and draw them into the hall, so that I can hear their voices. And I will come to the head of the stairs. Where is Bastwick?'

'Between here and Melksham, but a bit off the road, sir.'

'It would not be far from Layc.o.c.k?'

'No, your honour; I should think it would be within two or three miles of it. They are both on the flat the other side of the river.'

'Go down! go down!' Mr. Dunborough answered. 'And pump him, man! Set him talking. I believe we have run the old fox to earth. It will be our fault if we don't find the vixen!'

CHAPTER x.x.xII

CHANCE MEDLEY

By this time the arrival of a second pair of travellers hard on the heels of the first had roused the inn to full activity. Half-dressed servants flitted this way and that through the narrow pa.s.sages, setting night-caps in the chambers, or bringing up clean snuffers and snuff trays. One was away to the b.u.t.tery, to draw ale for the driver, another to the kitchen with William's orders to the cook. Lights began to s.h.i.+ne in the hall and behind the diamond panes of the low-browed windows; a pleasant hum, a subdued bustle, filled the hospitable house.

On entering the Yarmouth, however, the landlord was surprised to find only the clergyman awaiting him. Mr. Pomeroy, irritated by his long absence, had gone to the stables to learn what he could from the postboy. The landlord was nearer indeed than he knew to finding no one; for when he entered, Mr. Thoma.s.son, unable to suppress his fears, was on his feet; another ten seconds, and the tutor would have fled panic-stricken from the house.

The host did not suspect this, but Mr. Thoma.s.son thought he did; and the thought added to his confusion. 'I--I was coming to ask what had happened to you,' he stammered. 'You will understand, I am very anxious to get news.'

'To be sure, sir,' the landlord answered comfortably. 'Will you step this way, and I think we shall be able to ascertain something for certain?'

But the tutor did not like his tone; moreover, he felt safer in the room than in the public hall. He shrank back. 'I--I think I will wait here until Mr. Pomeroy returns,' he said.

The landlord raised his eyebrows. 'I thought you were anxious, sir,' he retorted, 'to get news?'

'So I am, very anxious!' Mr. Thoma.s.son replied, with a touch of the stiffness that marked his manner to those below him. 'Still, I think I had better wait here. Or, no, no!' he cried, afraid to stand out, 'I will come with you. But, you see, if she is not here, I am anxious to go in search of her as quickly as possible, where--wherever she is.'

'To be sure, that is natural,' the landlord answered, holding the door open that the clergyman might pa.s.s out, 'seeing that you are her father, sir. I think you said you were her father?' he continued, as Mr.

Thoma.s.son, with a scared look round the hall, emerged from the room.

'Ye--yes,' the tutor faltered; and wished himself in the street. 'At least--I am her step-father.'

'Oh, her step-father!'

'Yes,' Mr. Thoma.s.son answered, faintly. How he cursed the folly that had put him in this false position! How much more strongly he would have cursed it, had he known what it was cast that dark shadow, as of a lurking man, on the upper part of the stairs!

'Just so,' the landlord answered, as he paused at the foot of the staircase. 'And, if you please--what might your name be, sir?'

A cold sweat rose on the tutor's brow; he looked helplessly towards the door. If he gave his name and the matter were followed up, he would be traced, and it was impossible to say what might not come of it. At last, 'Mr. Thomas,' he said, with a sneaking guilty look.

'Mr. Thomas, your reverence?'

'Yes.'

'And the young lady's name would be Thomas, then?'

'N-no,' Mr. Thoma.s.son faltered. 'No. Her name--you see,' he continued, with a sickly smile, 'she is my step-daughter.'

'To be sure, your reverence. So I understood. And her name?'

The tutor glowered at his persecutor. 'I protest, you are monstrous inquisitive,' he said, with a sudden sorry air of offence. 'But, if you must know, her name is Masterson; and she has left her friends to join--to join a--an Irish adventurer.'

It was unfortunately said; the more as the tutor in order to keep his eye on the door, by which he expected Mr. Pomeroy to re-enter, had turned his back on the staircase. The lie was scarcely off his lips when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and, twisting him round with a jerk, brought him face to face with an old friend. The tutor's eyes met those of Mr. Dunborough, he uttered one low shriek, and turned as white as paper. He knew that Nemesis had overtaken him.

But not how heavy a Nemesis! For he could not know that the landlord of the Angel owned a restive colt, and no farther back than the last fair had bought a new whip; nor that that very whip lay at this moment where the landlord had dropped it, on a chest so near to Mr. Dunborough's hand that the tutor never knew how he became possessed of it. Only he saw it imminent, and would have fallen in sheer terror, his coward's knees giving way under him, if Mr. Dunborough had not driven him back against the wall with a violence that jarred the teeth in his head.

'You liar!' the infuriated listener cried; 'you lying toad!' and shook him afresh with each sentence. 'She has run away from her friends, has she? With an Irish adventurer, eh? And you are her father? And your name is Thomas? Thomas, eh! Well, if you do not this instant tell me where she is, I'll Thomas you! Now, come! One! Two! Three!'

In the last words seemed a faint promise of mercy; alas! it was fallacious. Mr. Thoma.s.son, the lash impending over him, had time to utter one cry; no more. Then the landlord's supple cutting-whip, wielded by a vigorous hand, wound round the tenderest part of his legs--for at the critical instant Mr. Dunborough dragged him from the wall--and with a gasping shriek of pain, pain such as he had not felt since boyhood, Mr. Thoma.s.son leapt into the air. As soon as his breath returned, he strove frantically to throw himself down; but struggle as he might, pour forth screams, prayers, execrations, as he might, all was vain. The hour of requital had come. The cruel lash fell again and again, raising great wheals on his pampered body: now he clutched Mr. Dunborough's arm only to be shaken off; now he grovelled on the floor; now he was plucked up again, now an ill-directed cut marked his cheek. Twice the landlord, in pity and fear for the man's life, tried to catch Mr. Dunborough's arm and stay the punishment; once William did the same--for ten seconds of this had filled the hall with staring servants. But Mr. Dunborough's arm and the whirling whip kept all at a distance; nor was it until a tender-hearted housemaid ran in at risk of her beauty, and clutched his wrist and hung on it, that he tossed the whip away, and allowed Mr.

Thoma.s.son to drop, a limp moaning rag on the floor.

'For shame!' the girl cried hysterically. 'You blackguard! You cruel blackguard!'

''Tis he's the blackguard, my dear!' the honourable Mr. Dunborough answered, panting, but in the best of tempers. 'Bring me a tankard of something; and put that rubbish outside, landlord. He has got no more than he deserved, my dear.'

Mr. Thoma.s.son uttered a moan, and one of the waiters stooping over him asked him if he could stand. He answered only by a faint groan, and the man raising his eyebrows, looked gravely at the landlord; who, recovered from the astonishment into which the fury and suddenness of the a.s.sault had thrown him, turned his indignation on Mr. Dunborough.

'I am surprised at you, sir,' he cried, rubbing his hands with vexation.

'I did not think a gentleman in Sir George's company would act like this! And in a respectable house! For shame, sir! For shame! Do, some of you,' he continued to the servants, 'take this gentleman to his room and put him to bed. And softly with him, do you hear?'