Snowdrift and Other Stories

‘Yes,’ nodded Mr Brown with enthusiasm. His eyes were fixed dreamily on the capon’s carcase, but it was evident that they saw a much more agreeable vision, for he said, warming to his theme:

‘She has black hair. Oh, black as – as –’

‘A raven’s wing,’ supplied the Earl.

‘Yes, a raven’s wing – precisely. And she has large brown eyes with long lashes that curl. She is extremely dignified, and she has a great air of – of –’

‘Consequence?’ suggested the Earl.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Brown, dwelling admiringly on the picture he had conjured up. The Earl brought him down to earth with a thud.

‘Myself, I prefer something in a simpler style.’

Mr Brown turned a surprised gaze upon him.

‘Do you?’ he said. ‘How very odd!’

‘Not at all,’ replied his lordship. ‘We have each our own weaknesses. Mine is for fair hair, and – oh yes, decidedly – blue eyes. And no air of consequence.’

‘Insipid!’ said Mr Brown with a look of disgust.

At this moment the clatter of wheels outside the window indicated that more travellers had arrived at the inn. The effect of the interruption on Mr Brown was surprising. With a murmured word of apology he sprang up and hurried to peep above the blind in the window. A minute later he turned, and showed the Earl a very white face. He seemed undecided what to do, but the sound of an irate voice raised in the coffee-room caused him to snatch up his cloak and hat, and look rather wildly round the room. His gaze alighted on a door behind the Earl’s chair;

he said beneath his breath:

‘Don’t, I implore you, betray me!’ and before the Earl could answer fled to this door, and whisked himself through it.

A moment later the landlord entered the room, and said apologetically:

‘Beg pardon, my lord, but there’s a gentleman outside enquiring for a young man who –’

He stopped and looked round.

‘But your lordship’s alone!’ he said.

‘Yes,’ agreed the Earl, stretching out his hand for the wine bottle.

‘Well, but – has the young gentleman gone, my lord?’

‘As you see,’ replied the Earl.

The landlord looked a trifle bewildered.

‘That’s a queer thing,’ he remarked. ‘He must have passed through the coffee-room while we were busy with Sir Jasper and his party.’

‘Quite possibly,’ said the Earl, stifling a yawn.

‘Yes, my lord. I’ll tell the gentleman.’

The landlord withdrew, but in a very short space the door opened again, this time to admit a gentleman in a puce coat with gilt buttons who came hastily in, and strode to the table.

‘Your pardon, sir. May I have a word with you?’

The Earl rose in his leisurely fashion, and bowed. ‘By all means,’ he replied. ‘Lord Charlton, is it not?’

The other nodded. He was a man in the late twenties with a handsome, dissipated countenance, and a bad-tempered mouth.

‘Yes, I’m Charlton,’ he said impatiently. His eyes alighted on Mr Brown’s vacated chair. He stabbed a finger at the crumpled napkin and said: