The Quiet Gentleman

"Well, I'll come and see you again tomorrow, Miss Morville!" said Dr. Malpas bracingly. "I know I leave you in good hands."

"Yes, and so many of them!" said Mrs. Morville, with a bright smile.

The doctor then went away, and Lord Ulverston, looking round the Hall, suddenly demanded: "But where's Ger? Not still abed, is he?"

"No, my lord," said Turvey. "His lordship is not, so far as I am aware, within the Castle."

"What's that?" said Ulverston. "He was feeling his wound—said he would rest!"

Miss Morville opened her eyes. "He went to Evesleigh," she said.

"Evesleigh! Good God, why?"

The Dowager, who had been regaling the unwilling Mr. Morville with a long, and apparently pointless, anecdote about a set of persons whom he had neither met nor wished to meet, broke off to explain that if her stepson had gone to Evesleigh, it was to visit his cousin.

"I know that, ma'am!" said the Viscount impatiently. "How came you to let him go, Miss Morville? What can have possessed him to undertake the journey? He will be quite knocked up! Who accompanied him? That young groom of his?"

"No. I think—" Miss Morville stopped. "I don't know!" she ended uncommunicatively.

He looked down at her rather narrowly. "Know why he went, ma'am?"

"I— No."

"Well, it sounds a havey-cavey business to me!" he said. He glanced round again, frowning. "Martin not home yet?"

"No," she said, and resolutely closed her lips.

"Late, ain't he?"

She was silent.

"Think I'll ride to meet Ger!" said the Viscount.

"A very excellent ideal" said Mrs. Morville warmly. "If I were you, I would go at once!"

"I will!" said the Viscount, and strode off without ceremony.

He reached the head of the terrace steps in time to see the Earl's curricle come sweeping through the vaulted arch of the Gate Tower. The grays were being driven at a spanking pace, and the Viscount was thunderstruck to perceive that it was Martin who held the reins. He was still standing staring incredulously when the curricle drew up at the foot of the steps, and Martin, whose new-found humility had not deterred him from arguing hotly with his brother on certain of the finer points of driving, said triumphantly: "Now own I have not overturned you!"

"Oh, I do! How thankful I am I didn't bring a high-perch phaeton into Lincolnshire!" said the Earl, preparing to alight.

Martin grinned, but merely said that he would drive the curricle to the stables. The Viscount ran down the steps, exclaiming wrathfully: "I'll teach you to hoax me, Ger! What the devil have you been about?"

"Minding my own business," replied Gervase, with one of his mischievous looks.

The Viscount helped him to descend from the curricle. "You deserve to be laid-up for a week! Let me tell you, I was just about to come in search of you!"

"Unnecessary, Lucy! Martin was before you, and, as you see, has driven me home. I am not in the least knocked-up, I assure you."

"Just as well!" said the Viscount. "There's another on the sick-list now!"

"Oh?" said the Earl, beginning to mount the steps. "Who?"

"Miss Morville. Fell downstairs, or something. Sick as a cushion!"

"Miss Morville?" said Gervase quickly. "Is she much hurt?"

"Broken her arm. Can't think how she came to do it!"

"Good God!" exclaimed Gervase, swiftly mounting the remaining steps.

"They carried her into the Great Hall," said Ulverston, catching up with him. "But what's all this, Ger? Come on, now! No humdudgeon! What tricks has that brother of yours been playing on you? Out with it!"

"None at all. I'll explain it to you presently, Lucy, but not now! Only don't look daggers at Martin! It wasn't he who tried to murder me!"

"I suppose he told you so! Upon my word, Ger—! And what about that Leek of his?"

"Lucy, how can you be such a greenhorn?" demanded Gervase, casting his hat and his gloves on to the settle in the vestibule. "Did you never see a Bow Street Runner before?"

He then strode towards the Great Hall, checked for an instant on the threshold, blinking at the unexpected number of persons assembled there, and then perceived Miss Morville, lying on one of the sofas, interestingly pale, and with one arm in a sling. She had raised herself from her supporting cushions, and was looking towards the doorway, so painful an expression of anxiety in her white face that the Earl forgot his surroundings, and, wholly ignoring everyone else in the Hall, quickly crossed the floor, exclaiming: "My poor dear! Why, what has happened to you, my poor child?"

He dropped on his knee beside the sofa, taking the hand that was trying to grasp one of the capes of his coat, and holding it comfortingly. Miss Morville, equally oblivious of her entourage, gazed worshipfully into the blue eyes so tenderly smiling at her, and said foolishly: "You are safe! Nothing dreadful happened to you!"

"Nothing more dreadful than being driven back to Stanyon by Martin!" he assured her. "But you! How came you to tumble down the stairs as soon as my back was turned?"