The Lunatic at Large Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  Towards four o'clock on the following afternoon Mr Beveridge and Moggridgewere walking leisurely down the long drive leading from the mansion ofClankwood to the gate that opened on the humdrum outer world. Finding thatan inelastic matter of yards was all the tether he could hope for, MrBeveridge thought it best to take the bull by the horns, and make acompanion of this necessity. So he kept his attendant by his side, andregaled him for some time with a series of improbable reminiscences andtolerable cigars, till at last, round a bend of the avenue, a lady onhorseback came into view. As she drew a little nearer he stopped with anair of great surprise and pleasure.

  "I believe, Moggridge, that must be Lady Alicia a Fyre!" he exclaimed.

  "It looks huncommon like her, sir," replied Moggridge.

  "I must really speak to her. She was"--and Mr Beveridge assumed hisinimitable air of manly sentiment--"she was one of my poor mother's dearestfriends. Do you mind, Moggridge, falling behind a little? In fact, if youcould step behind a tree and wait here for me, it would be pleasanter forus both. We used to meet under happier circumstances, and, don't you know,it might distress her to be reminded of my misfortunes."

  Such a reasonable request, beseechingly put by so fine a gentleman, couldscarcely be refused. Moggridge retired behind the trees that lined theavenue, and Mr Beveridge advanced alone to meet the Lady Alicia. Sheblushed very becomingly as he raised his hat.

  "I hardly expected to see you to-day, Mr Beveridge," she began.

  "I, on the other hand, have been thinking of nothing else," he replied.

  She blushed still deeper, but responded a little reprovingly, "It's verypolite of you to say so, but----"

  "Not a bit," said he. "I have a dozen equally well-turned sentences at mydisposal, and, they tell me, a most deluding way of saying them."

  Suddenly out of her depth again, poor Lady Alicia could only strike out atrandom.

  "Who tell you?" she managed to say.

  "First, so far as my poor memory goes, my mother's lady's-maid informed meof the fact; then I think my sister's governess," he replied, ticking offhis informants on his fingers with a half-abstracted air. "After that camea number of more or less reliable individuals, and lastly the Lady Aliciaa Fyre."

  "Me? I'm sure I never said----"

  "None of them ever _said_," he interrupted.

  "But what have I done, then?" she asked, tightening her reins, and makingher horse fidget a foot or two farther away.

  "You have begun to be a most adorable friend to a most unfortunate man."

  Still Lady Alicia looked at him a little dubiously, and only said, "I--Ihope I'm not too friendly."

  "There are no degrees in friendly," he replied. "There are only aloofly,friendly, and more than friendly."

  "I--I think I ought to be going on, Mr Beveridge."

  That experienced diplomatist perceived that it was necessary to furtherembellish himself.

  "Are you fond of soldiers?" he asked, abruptly.

  "I beg your pardon?" she said in considerable bewilderment.

  "Does a red coat, a medal, and a brass band appeal to you? Are you apt tobe interested in her Majesty's army?"

  "I generally like soldiers," she admitted, still much surprised at theturn the conversation had taken.

  "Then I was a soldier."

  "But--really?"

  "I held a commission in one of the crackest cavalry regiments," he begandramatically, and yet with a great air of sincerity. "I was considered oneof the most promising officers in the mess. It nearly broke my heart toleave the service."

  He turned away his head. Lady Alicia was visibly affected.

  "I am so sorry!" she murmured.

  Still keeping his face turned away, he held out his hand and she pressedit gently.

  "Sorrow cannot give me my freedom," he said.

  "If there is anything I can do----" she began.

  "Dismount," he said, looking up at her tenderly.

  Lady Alicia never quite knew how it happened, but certainly she foundherself standing on the ground, and the next moment Mr Beveridge was inher place.

  "An old soldier," he exclaimed, gaily; "I can't resist the temptation ofhaving a canter." And with that he started at a gallop towards the gate.

  With a blasphemous ejaculation Moggridge sprang from behind his tree, andset off down the drive in hot pursuit.

  Lady Alicia screamed, "Stop! stop! Francis--I mean, Mr Beveridge; stop,please!"

  But the favorite of the crack regiment, despite the lady's saddle, sat hissteed well, and rapidly left cries and footsteps far behind. The lodge wasnearly half a mile away, and as the avenue wound between palisades of oldtrees, the shouts became muffled, and when he looked over his shoulder hesaw in the stretch behind him no sign of benefactress or pursuer. Bycontinued exhortations and the point of his penknife he kept his horse atfull stretch; round the next bend he knew he should see the gates.

  "Five to one on the blank things being shut," he muttered.

  He swept round the curve, and there ahead of him he saw the gates grimlyclosed, and at the lodge door a dismounted groom, standing beside hishorse.

  Only remarking "Damn!" he reined up, turned, and trotted quietly backagain. Presently he met Moggridge, red in the face, muddy as to histrousers, and panting hard.

  "Nice little nag this, Moggridge," he remarked, airily.

  "Nice sweat you've give me," rejoined his attendant, wrathfully.

  "You don't mean to say you ran after me?"

  "I does mean to say," Moggridge replied grimly, seizing the reins.

  "Want to lead him? Very well--it makes us look quite like the Derby winnercoming in."

  "Derby loser you means, thanks to them gates bein' shut."

  "Gates shut? Were they? I didn't happen to notice."

  "No, o' course not," said Moggridge, sarcastically; "that there sunstrokeyou got in India prevented you, I suppose?"

  "Have a cigar?"

  To this overture Moggridge made no reply. Mr Beveridge laughed andcontinued lightly, "I had no idea you were so fond of exercise. I'd havegiven you a lead all round the park if I'd known."

  "You'd 'ave given me a lead all round the county if them gates 'ad beenopen."

  "It might have been difficult to stop this fiery animal," Mr Beveridgeadmitted. "But now, Moggridge, the run is over. I think I can take LadyAlicia's horse back to her myself."

  Moggridge smiled grimly.

  "You won't let go?"

  "No fears."

  Mr Beveridge put his hand behind his back and silently drove the penknifea quarter of an inch into his mount's hind quarters. In an instant hiskeeper felt himself being lifted nearly off his feet, and in anotheractually deposited on his face. Off went the accomplished horseman againat top speed, but this time back to Lady Alicia. He saw her standing bythe side of the drive, her handkerchief to her eyes, a penitent anddisconsolate little figure. When she heard him coming, she dried her eyesand looked up, but her face was still tearful.

  "Well, I am back from my ride," he remarked in a perfectly usual voice,dismounting as he spoke.

  "The man!" she cried, "where is that dreadful man?"

  "What man?" he asked in some surprise.

  "The man who chased you."

  Mr Beveridge laughed aloud, at which Lady Alicia took fresh refuge in herhandkerchief.

  "He follows on foot," he replied.

  "Did he catch you? Oh, why didn't you escape altogether?" she sobbed.

  Mr Beveridge looked at her with growing interest.

  "I had begun to forget my petticoat psychology," he reflected (aloud,after his unconventional fashion).

  "Oh, here he comes," she shuddered. "All blood! Oh, what have you done tohim?"

  "On my honour, nothing,--I merely haven't washed his face."

  By this time Moggridge was coming close upon them.

  "You won't forget a poor soldier?" said Mr Beveridge in a lower voice.

  Ther
e was no reply.

  "A _poor_ soldier," he added, with a sigh, glancing at her from the cornerof his eye. "So poor that even if I had got out, I could only have riddentill I dropped."

  "Would you accept----?" she began, timidly.

  "What day?" he interrupted, hurriedly.

  "Tuesday," she hesitated.

  "Four o'clock, again. Same place as before. When I whistle throw it overat once."

  Before they had time to say more, Moggridge, blood- and gravel-stained,came up.

  "It's all right, miss," he said, coming between them; "I'll see that heplays no more of 'is tricks. There's nothin' to be afrightened of."

  "Stand back!" she cried; "don't come near me!"

  Moggridge was too staggered at this outburst to say a word.

  "Stand away!" she said, and the bewildered attendant stood away. Sheturned to Mr Beveridge.

  "Now, will you help me up?"

  She mounted lightly, said a brief farewell, and, forgetting all about thecall at Clankwood she had ostensibly come to pay, turned her horse's headtowards the lodge.

  "Well, I'm blowed!" said Moggridge.

  "They do blow one," his patient assented.

  Naturally enough the story of this equestrian adventure soon ran throughClankwood. The exact particulars, however, were a little hard to collect,for while Moggridge supplied many minute and picturesque details,illustrating his own activity and presence of mind and the imminent perilof the Lady Alicia, Mr Beveridge recounted an equally vivid story of arunaway horse recovered by himself to its fair owner's unboundedgratitude. Official opinion naturally accepted the official account, andfor the next few days Mr Beveridge became an object of considerableanxiety and mistrust.

  "I can't make the man out," said Sherlaw to Escott. "I had begun to thinkthere was nothing much the matter with him."

  "No more there is," replied Escott. "His memory seems to me to havesuffered from something, and he simply supplies its place in conversationfrom his imagination, and in action from the inspiration of the moment.The methods of society are too orthodox for such an aberration, and as hisfriends doubtless pay a handsome fee to keep him here, old Congers labelshim mad and locks the door on him."

  A day or two afterwards official opinion was a little disturbed. LadyAlicia, in reply to anxious inquiries, gave a third version of theadventure, from which nothing in particular could be gathered except thatnothing in particular had happened.

  "What do you make of this, Escott?" asked Dr Congleton, laying her notebefore his assistant.

  "Merely that a woman wrote it."

  "Hum! I suppose that _is_ the explanation."

  Upon which the doctor looked profound and went to lunch.