The Quiet Gentleman

‘The Napoleon – how can you be so ignorant? Do you think I ought not to wear it?’

‘No, but I wonder you don’t start a fashion of your own! Earthquake à la St Erth! How’s that, dear boy?’

Turvey gave a discreet cough. ‘If I may be permitted to say so, my lord, the Desborough tie already enjoys a considerable degree of popularity in the highest circles. We are at present perfecting the design of the Stanyon Fall, which, when disclosed, will, I fancy, take the ton by storm.’

‘You should not betray our secrets, Turvey,’ Gervase said, standing up to allow the valet to help him to put on his coat. ‘Thank you: nothing more!’

Turvey bowed, and turned away to gather up the discarded riding-coat and breeches. The Earl had picked up a knife from his dressing-table, and was trimming his nails, and did not immediately look up. The valet paused, laid the breeches down again, and thrust a hand into the tail-pocket of the coat. He drew forth the coil of thin cord which was spoiling the set of the coat, and in the same instant the Earl raised his head, and perceived what he was doing. A shadow of annoyance crossed his face; he said, with rather more sharpness than was usually heard in his voice: ‘Yes, leave that here!’

The slight bow with which Turvey received this order expressed to a nicety his opinion of those who carried coils of cord in their pockets. He was about to lay the cord on the chair when the Viscount stepped forward, and took it out of his hand.

‘You may go.’ The Earl’s head was bent again over his task.

Ulverston returned to the fireplace, testing the cord by jerking a length of it between his hands. When Turvey had withdrawn, he said: ‘Saw a whole front rank brought down by that trick once. Mind, that was at night! – ambush!’

The Earl said nothing.

‘Stupid thing to do, to leave it in your pocket, dear boy!’

‘Very.’

Ulverston tossed the coil aside. ‘Out with it, Ger! That’s what happened, ain’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Martin?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, one thing you do know is that he was in the grounds at the time!’

‘So you say.’

‘Dash it, it was Clarence who said so, and what reason had he to say

it if it wasn’t true?’

‘None. I don’t doubt it: I fancy Martin generally does take a gun out at sundown.’

‘Well, what do you mean to do?’ Ulverston demanded.

‘Nothing.’

‘Famous!’ said Ulverston. ‘That fairly beats the Dutch! I collect that a little thing like that –’ he jerked his chin towards the cord – ‘don’t even give you to think?’

‘On the contrary, it gives me furiously to think. My reflections on this event may be false, and are certainly unpleasant, and with your good leave, Lucy, I’ll keep them to myself.’

‘This won’t serve!’ Ulverston said. ‘You cannot do nothing when an attempt has been made to kill you!’

‘Very well, what would you wish me to do?’ Gervase asked, laying down the paring-knife. He glanced at the Viscount’s scowling countenance, and smiled. ‘You don’t know, do you? Shall I announce to the household that I was thrown by such a trick? Or shall I accuse my brother of wishing to make away with me?’

‘Send him packing!’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Good God, ain’t these grounds enough?’

‘Yes, if I could prove them.’