These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘No, no, ’twas a brute I got at the blacksmith’s, owned by – burn it, what’s the fellow’s name – Manvers!’

‘Oh, I see!’ said Léonie, relieved. ‘Go on. You did very well, Rupert!’

‘Not so bad, was it?’ said Rupert modestly. ‘Well, I bought a passage on the old tub, and we got in at Le Havre at one, or thereabouts.’

‘We did not leave Le Havre until two! He thought you would not follow, and he said that he was safe enough now!’

‘Safe, eh? I’ll show him!’ Rupert shook his fist. ‘Where was I?’

‘At Le Havre,’ Léonie prompted.

‘Oh, ay, that’s it! Well, by the time I’d paid this fee and that my guineas were all gone, so off I went to sell my diamond pin.’

‘Oh! It was such a pretty pin!’

‘Never mind that. The trouble I had to get rid of the damned thing you’d scarce believe. ’Pon my soul, I believe they thought I’d stolen it!’

‘But did you sell it?’

‘Ay, for less than half its worth, rot it! Then I skipped off to the inn to inquire of you, and to get me something to eat. Thunder and turf, but I was hungry!’

‘So was I!’ sighed Léonie. ‘And that pig-person ate and ate!’

‘You put me out,’ said Rupert severely. ‘Where was I? Oh yes! Well, the landlord told me that Saint-Vire was gone off by coach to Rouen at two o’clock, so the next thing I had to do was to hire a horse to be after you again. That’s all there is to it, and devilish good sport it was! But where we are now, or what we’re to do, beats me!’

‘The Comte will come, do you not think?’ Léonie asked anxiously.

‘I don’t know. He can’t very well snatch you when I’m here. I wish I knew what the plague he wants with you. Y’know, this is mighty difficult, for we haven’t either of us a notion what the game is we’re playing.’ He frowned, thinking. ‘Of course, Saint-Vire may come to steal you again. He’ll have ridden back to Le Havre first, depend on’t, and when he finds we’ve not been there he may scour the countryside, for he knows he hit me and it’s likely we’d be hiding somewhere near.’

‘What are we to do?’ asked Léonie, with pale cheeks.

‘What, not afraid, are you? Damn it, he can’t walk off with you under my very nose!’

‘Oh, he can, Rupert, he can! You are so weak you cannot help me!’

Rupert made an effort to hoist himself up, and failed dismally. He lay fuming.

‘Well, damme, I can fire!’

‘But we have no gun!’ objected Léonie. ‘At any moment he may come, and these people will never be able to keep him out.’

‘Pistol, child, pistol! Lord, what will you say next? Of course we have one! D’ye take me for a fool? Feel in the pockets of my coat.’

Léonie jumped down from the bed, and dragged my lord’s coat from the chair. She produced Mr Fletcher’s unwieldy pistol from one of its pockets, and brandished it gleefully.

‘Rupert, you are very clever! Now we can kill that pig-person!’

‘Hi, put it down!’ commanded Rupert in some alarm. ‘You know naught of pistols, and we’ll have an accident if you fiddle with it! The thing’s loaded and cocked!’

‘I do know about pistols!’ said Léonie indignantly. ‘You point it, so! And pull this thing.’

‘For God’s sake, put it down!’ cried Rupert. ‘You’re levelling the damned thing at me, silly chit! Put it on the table beside me, and find my purse. It’s in my breeches pocket.’

Léonie laid the pistol down reluctantly, and rummaged anew for the purse.

‘How much have we?’ Rupert asked.

Léonie emptied the guineas on to the bed. Three rolled on to the floor, and one dropped into Rupert’s broth with a splash.