Читать книгу Ainslee's, Vol. 15, No. 6, July 1905 - Various - Страница 6

The Jolly Grig was empty. The guests, all in the courtyard, were mounting to meet the Lady Barbara. A shadowy figure clambered to Lord Farquhart’s window, a figure strangely like Lord Farquhart. A moment later, a shadowy figure, resembling, this time, the lad who had slept by the hearth, slipped down the stairs into the small room at the back of the inn. Here it stopped for an instant’s reverie.

“’Tis curious how jests grow,” the red lips murmured. “At first I but thought of frightening that haughty cousin of mine, the Lady Barbara Gordon. And now – heigh-ho! I hope I’ve not stored up trouble for Lord Farquhart. ’Twould be a sad pity to vex so fine a gentleman!”

Then the figure hurriedly caught up the bundle of woman’s toggery that had enswathed its entrance to the inn, and through the dancing motes, over the sun-flecked floor, the same slim shadow, the shadow that resembled the lad who had slept by the hearth, the shadow that had slipped down the curving stairs, crept through another window, was off and away, lost in the other shadows of the night.