"Esther," cried Reuben, "can it be that you have forgotten--"

Mowbray quickly interrupted him.

"Come, come, sir! Is it in so numerous a company as this that one proceeds to indulge in a family explanation, or gives a curtain lecture to a young girl? Be good enough to come up here. You will find my house open to you, but to you alone. I give you my word that if, after some moments of conversation, you still persist in claiming this young lady, she shall follow you. On the other hand you must swear to me--"

"I never swear," said Reuben rudely.

"There you are wrong," retorted Mowbray courteously; "an oath frequently eases matters."

"It is written, 'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord, thy G.o.d, in vain.'"

"Very well. But promise me at least that, during the time, your men shall not move or commit any folly."

"So be it."

And turning to his companions Reuben added, "If in the s.p.a.ce of a quarter of an hour I do not come out of this house, enter and cut down with your swords whomsoever you may meet!"

"An admirable plan," concluded Mowbray, always ironical.

When Reuben, having been introduced into the enemy's camp under a flag of truce, had at last reached the apartment upon the second floor, Mowbray remarked:--

"Now, madam, you may unmask."

The young woman loosened the strings of her mask, and Reuben found himself in the presence of Bella, Lady Vereker, whose black eyes regarded him with a singular expression of mingled curiosity and amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You are surprised, sir," resumed Lord Mowbray, "as I was myself an hour ago. Heaven is my witness that it was not her ladyship whom I supposed I had carried off; but after all, as the French proverb has it, _Quand le vin est tire, il faut le boire_, and an old sweetheart, like old wine, is best."

"Insolent fellow!" murmured Lady Vereker, toying with her fan.

Still Reuben remained sombre and defiant.

"What a.s.surance have I," he demanded, "that this lady is not your accomplice?"

Then her ladyship with feigned anger mingled with raillery, exclaimed:--

"I! when I have wished my reputation to protect that of my young friend!"

Without pausing to consider this important sacrifice, Marsham continued:--

"And what a.s.surance have I that my cousin is not concealed in some corner of this accursed house, for it is certain that she has disappeared?"

"If she has been carried off, it must have been by the devil," said Mowbray, "and unfortunately I cannot be held responsible. I freely consent to your searching the house. I can refuse nothing to so amiable a man."

Conducted by Hackman, and accompanied by Fisher and the former hostler, who knew all the ins and outs of the place, young Marsham visited every recess of the "Folly." Carrying to a grotesque degree the affected civility of his patron, the captain preceded them, opening all the cabinets, the wardrobes and the closets, and even inviting them to examine nooks scarcely large enough to stow away a hare in. Quite unmoved by his impertinence, Reuben and his companions sounded the walls with their sticks.

"Esther! Esther!" cried Reuben in a loud voice. But there was never a reply.

The officious Hackman, who stood aside at every door according to the rigid rules of French courtesy, showed them the kitchens, the offices, in fact everything, sparing no detail. He insisted that they should explore the entire length of the two subterranean pa.s.sages, one of which led to the open country, the other to the river bank.

"Now," he remarked, "you know the house as well as its architect."

"Well?" inquired Mowbray of young Marsham when he returned from his fruitless exploration.

"I have found nothing, my lord," answered Reuben with a tinge of embarra.s.sment.

"Then undoubtedly you divine what I expect of you."

"That I dismiss the men? I was about to do so." He stepped out upon the balcony and addressed his companions.

"The young girl whom I sought is not here; at least she is no longer here. Consequently your presence is no longer required and you may retire."

A muttering of evil augury arose from the ranks of the little group.

"These gentlemen will not go," suggested Mowbray, "until my butler has given each of them a half-guinea with which to drink my health. It would be a pity to give such brave fellows so much trouble for nothing."

A general cheer and cry of "Long live Lord Mowbray!" responded to this largesse.

"I knew," continued the young n.o.bleman, "that we should understand each other. The manner in which you have split my door has given me a high opinion of your ability in case of an emergency, and it appears that we should accomplish great results, were I your leader.--Stay! There is, hard by, the residence of a papist, which ought to be sacked. I have a mind to lead you thither myself. It is not that I owe the papists any particular grudge, but I am ready to labor for honor's sake, and for the love of the art."

The enthusiastic cries burst forth anew. Reuben could not but feel that his day was over, and that henceforth Lord Mowbray was the true master of his men. With a haughty, sullen air he turned towards the door.

"I reserve my suspicions," he said. "We shall meet again, Lord Mowbray."

"One moment, if you please. I reproach myself with having concealed something from you. There is a chamber in this house which has escaped your examination."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Saying which, he moved a small picture and pressed an invisible b.u.t.ton.

One of the panels in the wainscoting shot upward without a sound, like the curtain of a theatre, revealing a narrow pa.s.sage. Mowbray led the way, Reuben following him. After a few steps he found himself in a circular apartment furnished with extraordinary richness and taste. From the ceiling fell a rosy radiance, soft, tender, and faint, vaguely illumining the tapestries with which the walls were draped, upon which were represented rare subjects derived from Boccaccio. The feet sank into a rich carpet as into the sward of glades which no human step has ever pressed. The low rounded furniture seemed fashioned to render the fall of a body insensible and silent.

Ere Reuben had had time to cast his glance about the apartment the panel had fallen into place, leaving no more suggestion of a door than a wall of polished steel. Mowbray had vanished, and Marsham was alone. In an excess of rage he flung himself against the wall with all his might, he scratched it with his nails and beat upon it with his clinched fists.

Ten feet above his head a peephole opened, in which was framed the mocking face of Mowbray.

"You are giving yourself needless exertion," he remarked. "The panel will defy all your efforts. No one can hear you, and no one will release you before to-morrow morning. A night of seclusion in so charming a place is scarcely cruel chastis.e.m.e.nt enough for your insolence, more especially as this prison saves you from another. At this moment they are searching for Reuben Marsham high and low, but truly such a boudoir as this is preferable to a cell in Newgate. Therefore be resigned, and seek some means of pa.s.sing the time. Ah, I forgot. You will find a venison pie and a bottle of Canary wine upon the table at your left.--And now, good night!"

And the peephole closed.

There was no timepiece in that strange boudoir to mark the flight of the hours. Naught disturbed the profound silence of the night save the cracking of the crystal sconces as one after another the candles expired. At last a feeble ray of the crescent dawn descended from the vaulted ceiling. In the numerous mirrors, which had reflected many a festal scene, Reuben caught a glimpse of his own haggard, watchful face.

CHAPTER XIV.

VAIN QUESTS.