"A picture I intend to ask your opinion on presently," replied Mr Beveridge; and he added, with his most charming air, "But now, before we go in, let me give you a ride on one of these chairs, doctor."

They started off, the pace growing faster and faster, and presently Dr Escott saw that they were going behind the island.

"Look out for the spring!" he cried.

"It must be bearing now," replied Mr Beveridge, striking out harder than ever; "they have taken away the board."

"All right," said the doctor, "on you go."

As he spoke he felt a violent push, and the chair, slewing round as it went, flew on its course unguided. Mr Beveridge's skates rasped on the ice with a spray of white powder as he stopped himself suddenly. Ahead of him there was a rending crack, and Dr Escott and his chair disappeared. Mr Beveridge laughed cheerfully, and taking from under his coat a board with the legend "Danger" printed in large characters across its face, he placed it beside the jagged hole.

"Here is the picture, doctor," he said, as a dripping, gasping head came up for the second time. "I must ask a thousand pardons for this-shall I say, liberty? But, as you know, I'm off my head. Good night. Let me recommend a hot drink when you come out. There are only five feet of water, so you won't drown." And with that he skated rapidly away.

Escott had a glimpse of him vanishing round the corner of the island, and then the ice broke again, and down he went. Four, five, six times he made a desperate effort to get out, and every time the thin ice tore under his hands, and he slipped back again. By the seventh attempt he had broken his way to the thicker sheet; he got one leg up, slipped, got it up again, and at last, half numbed and wholly breathless, he was crawling circ.u.mspectly away. When at last he ventured to rise to his feet, he skated with all the speed he could make to the seat where he had left his coat. A pair of skates lay there instead, but the coat had vanished. Dr Escott's philosophical estimate of Mr Beveridge became considerably modified.

"Thank the Lord, he can't get out of the grounds," he said to himself; "what a dangerous devil he is! But he'll be sorry for this performance, or I'm mistaken."

When he arrived at the house his first inquiries were for his tutor in the art of vine-cutting, and he was rather surprised to hear that he had not yet returned, for he only imagined himself the victim of a peculiarly ill-timed practical joke.

Men with lanterns were sent out to search the park; and still there was no sign of Mr Beveridge. Inquiries were made at the lodge, but the gatekeeper could swear that only a single carriage had pa.s.sed through. Dr Congleton refused at first to believe that he could possibly have got out.

"Our arrangements are perfect,-the thing's absurd," he said, peremptorily.

"That there man, sir," replied Moggridge, who had been summoned, "is the slipperiest customer as ever I seed. 'E's hout, sir, I believe."

"We might at least try the stations," suggested Escott, who had by this time changed, and indulged in the hot drink recommended.

The doctor began to be a little shaken.

"Well, well," said he, "I'll send a man to each of the three stations within walking distance; and whether he's out or in, we'll have him by to-morrow morning. I've always taken care that he had no money in his pockets."

But what is a doctor's care against a woman's heart? For many to-morrows Clankwood had to lament the loss of the gifted Francis Beveridge.

CHAPTER VII.

At sixteen minutes to five Mr Beveridge stood by the side of the Clankwood Avenue, comfortably wrapped in Dr Escort's fur coat, and smoking with the greatest relish one of Dr Escott's undeniable cigars.

It was almost dark, the air bit keen, the dim park with its population of black trees was filled with a frosty, eager stillness. All round the invisible wall hemmed him in, the ten pounds, seventeen shillings, and sixpence lay useless in his pocket till that was past, and his one hope depended on a woman. But Mr Beveridge was an amateur in the s.e.x, and he smiled complacently as he smoked.

He had waited barely three minutes when the quick clatter of a pair of horses fell on his ears, and presently the lights of a carriage and pair, driving swiftly away from Clankwood, raked the drive on either side. As they rattled up to him he gave a shout to the coachman to stop, and stepped right in front of the horses. With something that sounded unlike a blessing, the pair were thrown almost on their haunches to check them in time. Never stopping to explain, he threw open the door and sprang in; the coachman, hearing no sound of protest, whipped up again, and Mr Beveridge found himself rolling through the park of Clankwood in the Countess of Grillyer's carriage with a very timid little figure by his side. Even in that moment of triumphant excitement the excellence of his manners was remarkable: the first thing he said was, "Do you mind smoking?"

In her confusion of mind Lady Alicia could only reply "Oh no," and not till some time afterwards did she remember that the odour of a cigar was clinging and the Countess's nose unusually sensitive.

After this first remark he leaned back in silence, gradually filling the carriage with a blue-grey cloud, and looking out of the windows first on one side and then on the other. They pa.s.sed quickly through the lines of trees and the open s.p.a.ces of frosty park-land, they drew up at the lodge for a moment, he heard his prison gates swing open, the harness jingled and the hoofs began to clatter again, a swift vision of lighted windows and a man looking on them incuriously swept by, and then they were rolling over a country road between hedgerows and under the free stars.

It was the Lady Alicia who spoke first.

"I never thought you would really come," she said.

"I have been waiting for that remark," he replied, with his most irresistible smile; "now for some more practical conversation."

As he did not immediately begin this conversation himself, her curiosity overcame her, and she asked, "How did you manage to get out?"

"As my friend Dr Escott offered no opposition, I walked away."

"Did he really let you?"

"He never even expostulated."

"Then-then it's all right?" she said, with an inexplicable sensation of disappointment.

"Perfectly-so far."

"But-didn't they object?"

"Not yet," he replied; "objections to my movements are generally made after they have been performed."

Somehow she felt immensely relieved at this hint of opposition.

"I'm so glad you got away," she whispered, and then repented in a flutter.

"Not more so than I am," he answered, pressing her hand.

"And now," he added, "I should like to know how near Ashditch Junction you propose to take me."

"Where are you going to, Mr Beveridge?"

The "Mr Beveridge" was thrown in as a corrective to the hand-pressure.

"To London; where else, my Alicia? With 10, 17s. 6d. in my pocket, I shall be able to eat at least three good dinners, and, by the third of them, if I haven't fallen on my feet it will be the first time I have descended so unluckily."

"But," she asked, considerably disconcerted, "I thought you were going back to your parish."

For a moment he too seemed a trifle put about. Then he replied readily, "So I am, as soon as I have purchased the necessary outfit, restocked my ecclesiastical library, and called on my bishop."

She felt greatly relieved at this justification of her share in the adventure.

"Drop me at the nearest point to the station," he said.

"I am afraid," she began-"I mean I think you had better get out soon. The first road on the right will take you straight there, and we had better not pa.s.s it."

"Then I must bid you farewell," and he sighed most effectively. "Farewell, my benefactress, my dear Alicia! Shall I ever see you, shall I ever hear of you again?"

"I might-I might just write once; if you will answer it: I mean if you would care to hear from such a--"