The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century — John Shaqi
The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth CenturyHeyer, Georgette
General
The Black Moth: A Romance of the XVIIIth Century
Heyer, Georgette
Aristocracy (Social class) -- England -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Love stories; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Regency fiction
"Yes," nodded Carstares. "Very sorry. The fat man would appear to bully
and browbeat him after the manner of his kind; he even blamed him for my
advent, the greasy coward! Yes, Jim, you are right--he did not appeal to
me, _ce M. Fudby_. So--" ingenuously, "I relieved him of his cash-box
and two hundred guineas. A present for the poor of Lewes."
Jim jerked his shoulder, frowning.
"If ye give away all ye get, sir, why do ye rob at all?" he asked
bluntly.
His whimsical little smile played about my lord's mouth.
"'Tis an object for my life, Jim: a noble object. And I believe it
amuses me to play Robin Hood--take from the rich to give to the poor,"
he added, for Salter's benefit. "But to return to my victims--you would
have laughed had you but seen my little man come tumbling out of the
coach when I opened the door!"
"Tumble, sir? Why should he do that?"
"He was at pains to explain the reason. It seems he had been commanded
to hold the door to prevent my entering--so when I jerked it open,
sooner than loose his hold, he fell out on to the road. Of course, I
apologised most abjectly--and we had some conversation. Quite a nice
little man.... It made me laugh to see him sprawling on the road,
though!"
"Wish I could have seen it, your honour. I would ha' liked fine to ha'
been beside ye." He looked down at the lithe form with some pride. "I'd
give something to see ye hold up a coach, sir!"
Haresfoot in hand, Jack met his admiring eyes in the glass, and laughed.
"I make no doubt you would.... I have cultivated a superb voice, a
trifle thick and beery, a little loud, perhaps--ah, something to dream
of o' nights! I doubt they do, too," he added reflectively, and affixed
the patch at the corner of his mouth.
"So? A little low, you think? But 'twill suffice--What's toward?"
Down below in the street there was a great stirring and bustling:
horses' hoofs, shouts from the ostlers, and the sound of wheels on the
cobble-stones. Jim went to the window and looked down, craning his neck
to see over the balcony.
"'Tis a coach arrived, sir."
"That much had I gathered," replied my lord, busy with the powder.
"Yes, sir. O lord, sir!" He was shaken with laughter.
"What now?"
"'Tis the curiousest sight, sir! Two gentlemen, one fat and t'other
small! One's all shrivelled-looking, like a spider, while t'other--"
"Resembles a hippopotamus--particularly in the face?"
"Well yes, sir. He do rather. And he be wearing purple."
"Heavens, yes! Purple, and an orange waistcoat!"
Jim peered afresh.
"So it is, sir! But how did you know?" Even as he put the question,
understanding flashed into Jim's eyes.
"I rather think that I have had the honour of meeting these gentlemen,"
replied my lord placidly. "My buckle, Jim.... Is't a prodigious great
coach with wheels picked out in yellow?"
"Ay, your honour. The gentlemen seem a bit put out, too."
"That is quite probable. Does the smaller gentleman wear
somewhat--ah--muddied garments?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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