The Masqueraders

Letty’s eyes rested on him, full of horror and amazement. Only an instant back he seemed on the point of killing his opponent, and now there he lay, a dark heap on the ground.

The Unknown was on his knee beside him, shutting him from Letty’s view; she stood still, clinging now to the frame of the door. After a minute the Unknown rose, and came to the coach. He was no longer smiling, and Letty saw the sweat glistening on his brow. She held out her hands to be helped from the coach. He put up his, and she sprang lightly down.

‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘He was a villain, but he fought well.’ He turned, and bent to pick up Markham’s coat. In a moment he had a paper in his hands, and bent his head to inspect it. He turned, and gave it to Letty. ‘Destroy that, Letitia. You know what it is.’

She hid it in the bosom of her gown. ‘Oh, thank you! thank you!’ she whispered.

He held out his hand. ‘Remember that I am a highwayman!’ he said. ‘Give me the pearls you wear. I will return them to you very soon now. Can you trust me?’

She unclasped the string. ‘Trust you! Oh, must you ask?’

He shook his head, smiling faintly, and held out his hand again. She put hers into it, and he bent to kiss it. ‘I shall come again,’ he promised. ‘And next time you know what I shall demand.’

She nodded; her eyes were shining; she knew neither hesitation nor bashfulness. He would come to claim her; if he chose he might ride off with her over his saddle now.

He had pulled on his boots, and was struggling into his coat. In another few minutes he had leaped into the saddle again, and was bowing low over the horse’s withers. The fair hair was touched to silver by the moonlight; a jewel at his throat winked; and behind the mask Letty thought she saw his eyes gleaming blue. ‘Au revoir, ma belle! ’ he said, and straightened in the saddle. ‘Drive the lady back to town!’ he said curtly to the coachman. There was a quick word in a strange tongue for the man with the pistol; the restless horse was wheeled about, the three-cornered hat was waved once to Letty. Then the horse bounded forward, across the heath; the pace quickened to a gallop, and in a few moments both riders had disappeared over the brow of a little hill.

Miss Letty rubbed her eyes; it was so like a dream, so unreal, that she began to doubt her senses. But the pearls were gone from her neck, and a few paces distant a dark figure lay on the ground – a figure that had once been Gregory Markham.

Twenty-four

Return of Miss Grayson

Over the hill, some few yards from the road, which turned sharply that way, Prudence waited beside a light chaise. She was in riding clothes, with her bridle over her arm. The horses had been taken from the chaise; Prudence herself had dismounted, and she was standing in the shadow of a tree, a big coat covering her, and her hat drawn over her eyes. There was a worried look in her face; the fine mouth was close shut, and the grey eyes troubled and anxious. She could never be at ease when Robin danced abroad in this fashion, but long training had taught her to assume a calm she was far from feeling. She would scorn to importune her brother with her fears, but there could be no peace for her until he was come safe back again.

She had not long to wait now before the sound of horses came to her listening ears. In another moment or two Robin had pulled up beside her.

She stepped forward, with eager hands stretched out to touch him, as though she must make sure that way of his safety. He bent in the saddle to grip her shoulder a minute. ‘Madam Anxiety!’

‘All well, child?’

‘You see me safe and sound.’ Robin swung himself down from the saddle.

‘Markham?’

‘Just as the old gentleman planned. A good fight.’

‘You killed him?’

‘Certainly, child.’ Robin gave his bridle into John’s hands, and took off his coat. ‘Well, I must get me into my petticoats, I suppose. Hey-day!’

‘I can find it in me to be sorry for the Markham,’ Prudence remarked. ‘I tell the old gentleman it’s a polite murder.’

‘Oh, I did not have it quite all my own way, be sure. He had some knowledge of the duello. I might pity him but for his treatment of Letty. That puts him beyond pity. Well, I’ll away to my dressing-room. Put the horses to, John.’ He went with a quick stride to a clump of bushes, and disappeared behind it.

Prudence went to help John with the horses. Busy with a cheek-strap, she said: ‘Did he fight well, John?’

‘You know his way, Miss Prue! Ay, he was like a demon. But the other man had some skill, as he said.’ John smiled grimly. ‘I’d my barker ready.’

Prudence chuckled. ‘John, John, you’re a rogue! Foul play, and would he ever have forgiven it?’

‘Or you forgive me for letting harm come to him, mistress?’ John backed his horse into the shafts. ‘His lordship will have it he’s the world’s greatest swordsman, but to my mind Master Robin’s his master. Ay, ’twas a good fight.’

‘How came the end?’

‘He made a time-thrust, Miss Prue. It would have done his lordship’s heart good to have seen it. Dangerous work, but there was never a head like Master Robin’s in a fight.’

Robin came out presently from his sylvan dressing-room. ‘I doubt I look a hag,’ he remarked, stowing a bundle of clothes away under the seat of the chaise. ‘No mirror, nor any lights. How is it, my Prue?’