Great Britain -- History -- George III, 1760-1820 -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
"Yes, my dear, yes. Among so few, we must not be choosers. Remember
old Hobson, you know. I know nothing against her but her tables. They
gamble high; but where do they not? She has arranged for an evening,
and I have promised her to go and take the management, and help her to
receive her visitors--and--er--and--"
"She has asked you to bring me?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I could read it in your eyes, father," said Claire. "Oh, it is
impossible."
"I will not press you, my child; but it is almost life to me, and it
would be giving us a stepping-stone to recover our lost ground."
"Do you wish me to go, father?"
"If--if--you would not mind very much, my dear," he said hesitatingly.
"It would be helping me."
He kissed her hand and left her to her own thoughts. The tears flowed
for a while, and then, with a sigh, Claire rose with a look of
resignation on her countenance, as if she accepted her fate.
Volume Two, Chapter XX.
PRIVATE INSTRUCTIONS.
"Look here, Bell," said Major Rockley, as he stood in his quarters, with
his regimental servant before him; "you were drunk again last night?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you are not ashamed of it?"
"Yes, sir, very much ashamed of it. It's my weakness, sir."
"Weakness, you scoundrel? It's your blackguardly conduct. You have
been under arrest so many times for this disgraceful behaviour, and I
have such a black list against you, that if I lay it before Colonel
Lascelles he will have you flogged."
"But you won't do that, sir."
"Yes, I will, you scoundrel. No: I'll give you another chance."
"Thank you, sir; I was sure you would," said the young man, flushing
slightly, and with a strange look in his face.
"By the way, what time did Mr Denville come back to his quarters?"
"Two o'clock, sir."
"With whom had he been?"
"Sir Matthew Bray, sir. Lady Drelincourt's, I think."
"Humph! Now, look here; can I trust you, Bell?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I'm going to give you a delicate bit of business to do for me."
"Yes, sir."
"If you do it well, I shall give you a clean slate to begin again, and
wipe off that last report."
"Thankye, sir."
"I cannot--at least I do not wish to--be seen in the business
preparations, so I trust to you."
"Yes, sir."
"Go directly then, to Moggridge's, and arrange for a post-chaise and
four to be at Prince's Road to-night at--say eleven--no; half-past ten."
"Yes, sir."
"Pick good fast horses. Pack a light valise with a change; put my
pistols in the pockets of the carriage, and you will be there ready to
see me off. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"There's--well, to be plain with you--a lady in the case."
"I see, sir."
"And, mind this; after we have started, you stay behind, and if there is
any inquiry directly after, you volunteer information, and say we have
taken the London Road. You understand?"
"Quite, sir."
"There's a sovereign for you. No: you'll get drunk if I give it you
now. I'll give you five when I come back."
"Very good, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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