English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
He might have known I would not shoot him in his wife's presence; but I
could and would have undressed him with my own hands. Perhaps he guessed
this.
"Let me go," he muttered.
I released him, and he took off his coat.
The train began to slacken speed. I called to Lady Daynesborough, who
rejoined us.
"You have fulfilled your promise," said I to the young man. "And," I
added, turning to her, "I have fulfilled mine. Good-night!"
I opened the door, and jumped out as we entered the station. I stood
waiting till the train started again, but Lord Daynesborough remained in
his place. I wonder what passed on that journey. She was a plucky girl,
and I can only trust she gave him what he deserved. At any rate, he
never, so far as I heard, ran away again.
I asked my way to the villa, and reached it after half an hour's
walking. I did not go in by the lodge gates, but climbed the palings,
and reached the door by way of the shrubberies. I knocked softly. A man
opened the door instantly. He must have been waiting.
"Is it Milord?" he said in French.
"Yes," I answered, entering rapidly.
"You are expected, Milord."
I did not know his voice, and it was dark in the passage.
"I am wet," I said. "Take me to a fire."
"There is one in the pantry," he answered, leading the way.
We reached the pantry, and he turned to light the gas.
Looking at me in the full blaze, he started back, then scrutinized me
closely, then exclaimed:
"What? You are not----"
"Oh, yes, I am! I am Lord Daynesborough."
"It's a lie. You are a robber--a----"
"I am Lord Daynesborough--Lord Daynesborough--Lord Daynesborough."
At each repetition I advanced a step nearer; at the last I produced my
trusty pistol, at the same time holding out a bank-note in the other
hand.
He took the note.
"You will stay here," I said, "for the next two hours. You will not come
out, whatever happens. Is there anyone else in the house?"
"One maid, Milord, and a man in the stables."
"Where is the maid?"
"In the kitchen."
"Is the man within hearing?"
"No."
"Good! Is the princess upstairs?"
"She is, Milord."
I made him direct me to the room, and left him. I thought I would
neglect the maid, and go straight to work. I went up to the door to
which I had been directed, and knocked.
"Come in!" said the gentle, childlike voice.
I went in. The princess was lying on a sofa by the fire, reading a
paper-covered book. She turned her head with a careless glance.
"Ah, you have come! Well, I almost hoped you would be afraid. I really
don't want you."
This reception would probably have annoyed Lord Daynesborough.
"Why should I be afraid?" I asked, mimicking Daynesborough's voice as
well as I could.
Meanwhile I quietly locked the door.
"Why, because of your wife. I know you tremble before her."
I advanced to the sofa.
"I have no wife," I said; "and, seeing what I do, I thank God for it."
She leaped up with a scream, loud and shrill.
A door opposite me opened, and a girl rushing in, crying:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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