‘No!’ barked the man’s voice. ‘If I have to gag you, to Gretna you’ll go, Letty! D’you think I’m fool enough to let you slip through my fingers now?’
Mr Merriot turned his head. ‘My dear, I believe I don’t like the noisy gentleman,’ he said calmly.
Madam Kate listened to a cry of: ‘My papa will come! I won’t marry you, oh, I won’t!’ and a faint frown was between her eyes.
There came the sound of a coarse laugh. Evidently the gentleman had been drinking. ‘I think you will,’ he said significantly.
Miss Merriot bit one finger nail. ‘It seems we must interfere, my Peter.’
Peter looked rueful, and drew his sword a little way out of the scabbard.
‘No, no, child, put up!’ said Madam, laughing. ‘We know a trick worth two of that. We must have the fox out of his earth, though.’
‘Stay you there,’ said her brother, and went out into the courtyard, and called to John, his servant.
John came.
‘Who’s the owner of the post-chaise, John?’ inquired Mr Merriot.
The answer was severe. ‘It’s a Mr Markham, sir, running off to Gretna with a rich heiress, so they say. And the lady not out of her teens. There’s wickedness!’
‘John’s propriety is offended,’ murmured Miss Merriot. ‘We will dispose, John, since God seems unwilling. I want a stir made.’
‘Best not meddle,’ said John phlegmatically. ‘We’ve meddled enough.’
‘A cry of fire,’ mused Mr Merriot. ‘Fire or footpads. Where do I lie hid?’
‘Oh, are you with me already?’ admired Kate. ‘Let me have a fire, John, or a parcel of daring footpads, and raise the ostlers.’
John fetched a sigh. ‘We’ve played that trick once before. Will you never be still?’
Mr Merriot laughed. ‘It’s a beauty in distress, John, and Kate must be up and doing.’
A grunt only was vouchsafed, and the glimmering of a grim smile. John went out. Arose presently in the courtyard a shout, and a glow, and quickly uproar.
‘Now I wonder how he made that fire?’ said Miss Merriot, amused.
‘There’s a shed and some straw. Enough for John. Well, it’s a fine stir.’ Mr Merriot went to the window. ‘Mine host leads the household out in force. The wood’s so damp ’twill be out in a moment. Do your part, sister.’ Mr Merriot vanished into the deserted taproom.
Miss Merriot added then to the stir by a scream, close followed by another, and a cry of: – ‘Fire, fire! Help, oh help!’
The door across the passage was burst open, and a dark gentleman strode out. ‘What in hell’s name?’ he began. His face was handsome in the swarthy style, but flushed now with wine. His eye lighted on Miss Merriot, and a smell of burning assailed his nostrils. ‘What’s the noise? Gad, is the place on fire?’ He came quickly into the coffee-room, and received Miss Merriot in his unwilling arms. Miss Merriot neatly tripped up her chair, and with a moan of ‘Save me!’ collapsed onto Mr Markham’s chest.
He grasped the limp form perforce, and found it a dead weight on his arm. His companion, a slim child of no more than eighteen, ran to the window. ‘Oh, ’tis only an old shed caught fire away to the right!’ she said.
Mr Markham strove to restore the fainting Miss Merriot. ‘Compose yourself, madam! For God’s sake, no vapours! There’s no danger. Damnation, Letty, pick the chair up!’
Miss Letty came away from the window towards Miss Merriot’s fallen chair. Mr Markham was tightly clasping that unconscious lady, wrath at his own helpless predicament adding to the already rich colour in his face.
‘The devil take the woman, she weighs a ton!’ swore Mr Markham. ‘Pick the chair up, I say!’
Miss Letty bent to take hold of it. She heard a door open behind her, and turning saw Mr Merriot.
Of a sudden Miss Merriot came to life. In round-eyed astonishment Miss Letty saw that lady no longer inanimate, but seemingly struggling to be free.
Mr Merriot was across the floor in a moment.
‘Unhand my sister, sir!’ cried he in a wonderful fury.