The Master of the Ceremonies Part 99

"Curse you!" cried Sir Harry. "Cowardly dog!" He seized May's a.s.sailant by the throat, but only to utter a low cry of pain, and stagger back from the effect of the heavy blow he received in the shoulder.

To the startled spectators at hand it was all like some scene in the half-light of a drama. No sooner had the dark figure rid himself of Payne than he glided rapidly beneath the chaise again, and before those who ran up to arrest him could reach the farther side of the vehicle, he had darted into the wood and was gone. Just then a voice cried: "Help!

for heaven's sake, or she'll bleed to death."

Volume Three, Chapter VII.

"TOO LATE! TOO LATE!"

The words uttered by the first to run to May Burnett's help seemed to paralyse the party instead of evoking aid, while in the horror and confusion there was no attempt made to pursue, so stunned were all by the rapidity with which one event had succeeded the other.

Lord Carboro' was the first to recover himself.

"This is no place for you, Miss Denville," he said. "Will you place yourself under my protection? Or, no," he added hastily; "Mr Barclay, take Miss Denville home."

Barclay took a step towards Claire, who stood as if turned to stone, staring wildly at where her sister lay upon the turf, with Mellersh kneeling beside her, while Sir Harry Payne also lay without motion.

"Who was that man who struck Mrs Burnett?" said Lord Carboro' sharply, but no one answered. "Mr Burnett," he continued to that individual, as he stood aloof looking on, but speechless with mortification and rage.

"Will no one speak? Who is this? You, Mellersh?"

"Yes," was the reply, in a low, pained voice. "This is a terrible business, Lord Carboro'."

"It generally is when a lady tries to elope and is stopped. Curse me, though, what a coward that Burnett was to set some one to strike her."

"Did he?" said Mellersh, in a curious tone.

"Yes; didn't you see? Is she fainting?"

"Yes," said Mellersh. "Here, Linnell, help Miss Denville into the chaise, and she can support her sister."

"No; I forbid it," cried Lord Carboro' sharply. "I--"

"Hush, my lord!" whispered Mellersh. "Do you not see? The wretched woman is stabbed."

"Stabbed!"

"Claire! Claire! Help! Claire!" wailed May faintly. At her sister's wild cry a spasm seemed to shoot through Claire's frame, and she wrested herself from Linnell, and threw herself beside the wretched little woman where she lay.

"May--sister," she whispered.

"Take me--take me home," said May, in a feeble, piteous voice. "Did you see him? I was frightened. I was going and he--he stabbed me."

"Help! A doctor! For heaven's sake, help!" cried Claire. "May, May, speak to me--dear sister."

She raised the frail little figure in her arms as she spoke, till the pretty baby head rested upon her bosom, and Linnell shuddered as, in the dim light, he saw the stains that marked her dress and Claire's hands.

"Miss Denville," he whispered, "let Colonel Mellersh place her in the chaise. She must be got home at once."

"Yes," said Mellersh solemnly. "I can do no more."

As he spoke he gave a final knot to the handkerchief with which he had bound the slight little arm.

"Who did this?" cried Lord Carboro' quickly. "Mr Burnett, do you know?"

Burnett did not speak, and the answer came from May, in a feeble, dreamy voice.

"It was poor Louis," she said. "I saw him this evening--watching me--he must have followed. Ah!"

"Quick! Get in first, Miss Denville," cried Mellersh. "Draw her away, d.i.c.k, for G.o.d's sake! The poor little thing will bleed to death. Good heavens!"

The last words were uttered in a low tone, as from out of the darkness a tall gaunt figure staggered up and sank down beside the injured girl.

"Too late! Too late! May! my child! Blood! She is dead--my darling.

She is dead!"

"Hush, sir! She has fainted," cried Linnell. "Mr Denville! For heaven's sake, sir, be firm. Command yourself. A terrible mishap.

Mrs Burnett must be got back to the town at once. Can you act calmly?"

"Certainly. I'll try," groaned the Master of the Ceremonies; and then, "Too late--too late!"

He rose, holding one little hand in his as Claire tottered into the carriage, and May was lifted to her side.

"Now, Mr Denville. In--quick!" cried Linnell. "Straight home. The postboys shall warn a doctor as they pa.s.s."

The door was banged to, the orders given, and the next minute the horses were going at a canter, on no flight to London, but back to the Parade.

Richard Linnell stood gazing after the departing post-chaise for a few moments, to start as a hand was placed upon his shoulder.

"Is she hurt badly, Mellersh?" he whispered.

"Badly? Yes," was the reply. "I'm afraid it is the last ride she will take--but one."

"For heaven's sake, gentlemen, lend a hand here," cried Lord Carboro'

impatiently; and they turned to where Barclay was now kneeling by Sir Harry Payne, that worthy having just struggled back from a fit of fainting.

"Cursed cowardly blow," he said in a shrill voice. "Who was it-- Burnett? Why couldn't he call me out?"

"Don't talk, man," cried Lord Carboro'. "Here, Mellersh, the fellow's bleeding like a pig."

"Am I?" cried Sir Harry faintly. "d.a.m.n it. A surgeon. The post-chaise."

"A knife," said Mellersh shortly, as he made as rapid an examination as he could in the darkness.

A pocket-knife was handed to him by Barclay, and he ripped up the coat and threw it aside.

"Is--is it dangerous?" faltered Sir Harry.

"Dangerous enough for you to be more silent," said Mellersh. "Another handkerchief, please. That'll do. Yes. I'll use both. There, Sir Harry," he said, as he bound up the prostrate man's arm, "we are only a mile from the barracks. You must contrive to walk."

"Sick as a dog," muttered Sir Harry; but he struggled to his feet with a little help. "Don't--don't let that little beast Burnett come near me.