The Quiet Gentleman

The Earl flicked a shilling to Master Scrooby, and set his horse in motion down the ride. Orthes was encouraged to break into an easy canter, but in a moment or two the roan caught up with him. Theo said in his quiet way: “You had better tell me what it is that troubles you, Gervase. If you are thinking that Martin should have warned you, I daresay he might not have heard you say that you would ride to Hatherfield this morning.”

“Is that what you think?”

“No,” said Theo bluntly.

“Nor do I think it. Do you know, I am becoming a little tired of Martin? Perhaps he would be happier at Studham after all. Or, at any rate, I should be.”

His cousin rode on beside him in silence, frowning slightly. After a pause, the Earl said: “You don’t agree?”

“That he would be happier there? No. That doesn’t signify, however. If you wish him to leave Stanyon, so be it! It will mean a breach, for he will not leave without making a deal of noise. Lady St. Erth, too, will not be silent, nor will she remain at Stanyon. What reason will you give for banishing Martin when he and she publish their wrongs to the rest of our relations?”

The Earl let Orthes drop to a walk. “Must I give any?”

“Unless you wish it to be thought that you have acted from caprice, or — which perhaps might be said by those who do not know you well — from rancour.”

There was a pause. “How very longheaded you are, Theo!” Gervase complained. “You are quite right, of course. But what is the boy about? Does he hope to drive me away from Stanyon? He cannot be so big a clodpole!”

Theo shrugged. “There is no saying what he may hope. But you cannot, I believe, shut your doors to him merely because he fenced once with the button off his foil, and did not warn you that a bridge was unsafe.”

“Ah, there is a little more than that!” Gervase said.

“What more?”

Gervase hesitated. “Why, I did not mean to tell you this, but I woke last night to the conviction that someone was in my room.”

Theo turned his head to stare at him under his brows. “In your room? Martin?”

“I can’t tell that. I have certain reasons for suspecting it may have been he, but by the time I was up, and could pull back my curtain, there was no one there.”

“Good God! Gervase, are you sure of this?”

“No, I am not sure, but I think that someone entered my room through the dressing-room. I heard what sounded to me like the click of a lock.”

“I cannot think it! Why, if — But what reason have you to think it was Martin?”

“I found him on the gallery outside my room.”

“What?”

“He said that he had been out — to Cheringham, a statement which I was disinclined to believe. Miss Morville, however, who was roused by the slamming of a door, considers that he may well have been speaking the truth. She seems to think he went there to see a cockfight.”

“Very likely. But I had no idea of this! I thought he had had the head-ache! And you believe — ”

“No, no, I believe nothing! But I have a strong notion I shall take my pistols to bed with me while I remain at Stanyon! It will be quite like Peninsular days.”

Theo smiled. “You have brought some desperate habits home with you! Only don’t rouse the household by firing at a mouse which is unlucky enough to disturb your rest!”

“Nothing less than a rat, I promise you!” Gervase said gravely.

They proceeded on their way without further mishap. The Earl faithfully visited his old friend, Yelden; his cousin inspected the new plantation; and they returned to Stanyon at noon, by way of the main avenue, which traversed the Home Park from the seventeenth-century lodge, with its wrought-iron gates, to the original Gate-tower of the Castle, still in remarkably good preservation, but no longer guarding a drawbridge. The moat having been filled in, the tower served no particular purpose, but figured in the guidebooks as a fine example of fourteenth-century architecture. Through its vaulted archway the east, and main, entrance to the Castle was reached, which opened on to what had once been the outer bailey, and was now a handsome court, laid out with a broad gravel drive, and formal flower-beds.