Читать книгу Waif of the River - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 16

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This parlour, once four loose-boxes and still faintly redolent of horses, was now a place of orderly comfort, thanks to Black John's assiduous care. Against one wall stood a well-filled bookcase, another was tastefully festooned with boxing-gloves or muffles, above and around crossed single-sticks and masks, with in the middle a pair of duelling or small-swords, their narrow, triangular blades glittering evilly. Against a third wall hung fishing-rods and tackle with a pair of splendid sporting guns, while in a corner stood the desk whereat Robin was wont to transact such business as was necessary.

Upon this desk the stranger laid his modish hat and gold-mounted cane and, selecting the most comfortable of the easy chairs, commanded his hearers' attention with wide-armed, imperious gesture, saying:

"Now, my very good fellows, you must know that I am Hugo St. John Despard, Count of the Holy Roman Empire and——"

"Whoa, sir!" quoth Mr. Shrig. "I must ax you to hold hard till I'm ready to take you down in my little reader." Here he plucked forth a somewhat battered pocket-book much as if it had been a weapon of offence. "Therefore, Mr. Robin, by your kind leave, I'll use this here desk o' yourn."

"Certainly, Jasper. Perhaps the Count will oblige by removing his impedimenta! Your stick and hat, sir."

Shrugging those mighty shoulders of his, Count Hugo complied. Then, opening his note-book, Mr. Shrig said:

"Now, Mr. Count sir, I——"

"No no, Shrig, you will call me simply 'Count', a title seldom heard in England, but I have lived much abroad in Spain, Italy and India, where at one time I commanded the Chundra Irregular Horse."

"And werry nice, too!" murmured Mr. Shrig, busied with moistened pencil. "Present occipation, sir?"

"You may write me down a philosopher, a seeker of Truth."

"Better and better, sir, for so am I. And Truth, being such a remarkable slippery customer, may need a precious lot o' seeking! Now your res-i-dence, sir, or place of a-bode?"

"Framling Manor, beside the Thames."

"Ar, about ten miles upstream, a werry old place vith a tower, dungeons and a flibbertyjibbet or ghost."

"Ah, you know the place, it seems?"

"I did, sir, years ago, b' reason o' said ghostly wisitant."

"But surely you, a hard-headed law officer, don't believe in such nonsense."

"Sir, you'd be ass-tounded how werry much I can believe, so now I'll ax you con-sarning your wanished dear one: her age, condition, complexion, vith distinguishing marks if any, birth or othervise."

"Ha!" exclaimed Sir Hugo, leaning back in his chair. "The vital subject at last, so attend now and hear me! The lady in question—lady, mark you, for her father was a baronet of long and distinguished ancestry—is the elder of two sisters, my beloved and legal ward Lady Aramanthea Meredith, and——"

"Ara——" Mr. Shrig's busy pencil faltered. "Sir," he sighed. "I must ax you to spell same."

"You may write her down as 'Thea'. She is aged twenty-two and the exact opposite of Rosemary, her gentle, golden-haired sister, being tall, dark as a gipsy and as lawless——"

"Twenty-two," muttered Mr. Shrig, writing busily, "of marriageable age and heiress to much property, a great fortun' and——"

"I did not say so!"

"No more you did, sir."

"Then how dare you presume to set down such statement?"

"From con-cloosions drawed, sir."

"From what, man, what?"

"Obserwation, sir. Now as regards her wanishing act——"

"What grounds have you for assuming her to be an heiress?"

"Count Hugo sir, ekko alone responds. So whose elder daughter is she?"

"Of my deeply lamented friend Colonel Sir Richard Meredith, who received a wound at Waterloo from which eventually he died, leaving his two motherless daughters to my devoted care, making me, in fact, their sole and legal guardian."

"And now, sir, the why-for and how of her wanishing and specially her reason for same?"

"Because I repeat, and grieve to so affirm, she is of a most wilful and headstrong nature, defiant of all authority, no matter how gentle."

"Meaning your authority, sir?"

"Mine or any. She is a born rebel."

"Vich brings us to the how she took vings, and spite o' your loving care, and flew——"

"She seized the opportunity while I was from home. She and her sister Rosemary stole down to the boathouse meaning to row off together heaven only knows where and had actually launched the boat. Thea was already in it when my poor brother Claude caught them and attempted to prevent their folly, when Thea, like the fiery, tameless creature she is, felled him with an oar, then, crying out she would return later for Rosemary, rowed away, leaving my devoted, most unhappy brother weltering in his blood. This was eight days ago, since when her fate is an ever-deepening and more tormenting mystery, for nothing has been heard of her since she rowed out into this accursed river."

"Leaving aforesaid brother Claude wallering in his gore, but all alive and kicking—I hope."

"He is alive, thank God! But my harassing thought and dread is—that Thea, believing she had murdered him, may have committed suicide to escape the frightful consequences."

"Or, Count Hugo, sir, she may have been overset and drownded by accident."

"Not at all likely, for she is an expert oarswoman and swims like a mermaid."

"Vich same," mused Mr. Shrig, "being a lady-like fish, can't be expected to drown! Consequently at this i-dentical moment she may be as lively as your brother Claude, sir. And therefore her sister Rosemary can't and don't inherit sister Thea's immense po-ssessions till body is found, dooly i-dentified and death o' same proved. Though death may be presumed after seven years or thereabouts, I believe, which is enough to try the patience of any man, ah—even poor Job in the Bible vith all his boils, not to mention his——"

"Shrig, what the devil are you twaddling about? Such meaningless farrago, such confoundedly wordy nonsensical ineptitude! If you don't perform far better than you talk I shall have small use for you and expect less than nothing of you! The men I employ must be sharp and the tools I use must be keen—ha yes, by God, and the weapons I handle shall always be—deadly!"

Here Count Hugo rose, seeming to fill the room with his extremely large and most dominating presence.

"But," said he, taking up hat and cane, "man Shrig and company, remember this: for any news of my beloved though murderous virago you shall be well rewarded, indeed paid lavishly, so—do your best!"

Then, with no word or gesture of farewell, Count Hugo St. John Despard strode out and away like the supremely assured superman he was.

"Well, Jasper," said Robin, when their masterful visitor's heavy footsteps had died away, "what think you of the gentleman?"

Mr. Shrig made a final note in his "little reader", beamed down at it and answered:

"A bird o' price, Master Robin; a werry rare specimen indeed and to be treated according."

"How say you, John?"

"He'd be a toughish customer to tackle—even for you or me."

"Yes," said Robin, his shapely mouth curving to grim smile, "so much so that I should enjoy tackling him. And between you and me, John, I've a premonition that I shall soon or late, and, old fellow, it will certainly be a 'go', or so I hope. And now, Jasper and John, how the deuce d'you spell 'gamecock'?"