A Rent In A Cloud Part 14

For a moment Calvert moved as if going towards the others, then, as if with a changed purpose, he turned sharply round and walked towards the high road.

As Calvert was just about to gain the road, Barnard ran after him, and cried out, "Stop, Calvert, hear what these men say; they are crying out unfair against us. They declare--"

"Are you an a.s.s, Bob?" said the other, angrily. "Who minds the stupid speech of fellows whose friend is knocked over?"

"Yes, but I'll hear this out," cried Barnard.

"You'll do so without _me_, then, and a cursed fool you are for your pains. Drive across to the Bavarian frontier, my man," said he, giving the postilion a Napoleon, "and you shall have a couple more if you get there within two hours."

With all the speed that whip and spur could summon, the beasts sped along the level road, and Calvert, though occasionally looking through the small pane in the back of the carriage to a.s.sure himself he was not pursued, smoked on unceasingly. He might have been a shade graver than his wont, and preoccupied too, for he took no notice of the objects on the road, nor replied to the speeches of the postilion, who, in his self-praise, seemed to call for some expression of approval.

"You are a precious fool, Master Barnard, and you have paid for your folly, or you had been here before this."

Such were his uttered thoughts, but it cost him little regret as he spoke them.

The steam-boat that left Constance for Lindau was just getting under weigh as he reached the lake, and he immediately embarked in her, and on the same evening, gained Austrian territory at Bregenz, to pa.s.s the night For a day or two, the quietness of this lone and little-visited spot suited him, and it was near enough to the Swiss frontier, at the Rhine, to get news from Switzerland. On the third day, a paragraph in the Basle Zeitung told him everything. It was, as such things usually are, totally misrepresented, but there was enough revealed for him to guess what had occurred. It was headed "Terrible Event," and ran thus:

"At a meeting which took place with pistols, this morning, between two English lords at the White Meadows, one fell so fatally wounded that his death ensued in a few minutes. An instantaneous cry of foul play amongst his friends led to a fierce and angry altercation, which ended in a second encounter between the first princ.i.p.al and the second of the deceased. In this the former was shot through the throat, the bullet injuring several large vessels, and lodging, it is supposed, in the spine. He has been conveyed to the Hotel Royal, but no hopes of his recovery are entertained."

"I suspected what would come of your discussion, Bob. Had you only been minded to slip away with me, you'd have been in the enjoyment of a whole skin by this time. I wonder which of them shot him. I'd take the odds it was the Frenchman; he handled the pistols like a fellow who envied us our pleasant chances. I suppose I ought to write to Barnard, or to his people; but it's not an agreeable task, and I'll think over it."

He thought over it, and wrote as follows:

"Dear Bob,--I suspect, from a very confused paragraph in a stupid newspaper, that you have fought somebody and got wounded. Write and say if this be so what it was all about, who did it, and what more can be done for you,

"By yours truly,

"H.C.

"Address, Como."

To this he received no answer when he called at the post-office, and turned his steps next to Orta. He did not really know why, but it was, perhaps, with some of that strange instinct that makes the criminal haunt the homes of those he has once injured, and means to injure more.

There was, however, one motive which he recognised himself; he wished to know something of those at the villa; when they had heard from Loyd, and what? whether, too, they had heard of his own doings, and in what way?

A fatal duel, followed by another that was like to prove fatal, was an event sure to provoke newspaper notice. The names could not escape publicity, and he was eager to see in what terms they mentioned his own.

He trusted much to the difficulty of getting at any true version of the affair, and he doubted greatly if anyone but Graham and himself could have told why they were to meet at all. Graham's second, Rochefort, evidently knew very little of the affair. At all events, Graham was no longer there to give his version, while for the incidents of the duel, who was to speak? All, save Barnard, who was dying, if not dead, must have taken flight The Swiss authorities would soon have arrested them if within reach. He might therefore rea.s.sure himself that no statement that he could not at least impugn could get currency just yet "I will row over to the old Grainger"--so he called her--"and see what she has Heard of it all."

It was nightfall as he reached the sh.o.r.e, and walked slowly and anxiously to the house. He had learned at Orta that they were to leave that part of the world in another fortnight, but whither for none knew.

As he drew nigh, he determined to have a peep at the interior before he presented himself. He accordingly opened the little wicket noiselessly, and pa.s.sed round through the flower-garden till he reached the windows of the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XI. THE LIFE AT THE VILLA.

THE curtains were undrawn, and the candles were lighted. All within looked just as he had so often seen it. The sick girl lay on her sofa, with her small spaniel at her feet Miss Grainger was working at a table, and Emily sat near her sister, bending over the end of the sofa, and talking to her. "Let me see that letter again, Florry," she said, taking a letter from the pa.s.sive fingers of the sick girl. "Yes, he is sure it must have been Calvert. He says, that though the Swiss papers give the name Colnart, he is sure it was Calvert, and you remember his last words here as he went away that evening?"

"Poor fellow!" said Florence, "I am sure I have no right to bear him good will, but I am sorry for him--really sorry. I suppose, by this time, it is all over?"

"The wound was through, the throat, it is said," said Miss Grainger.

"But how confused the whole story is. Who is Barnard, and why did Calvert fight to save Barnard's honour?"

"No, aunt. It was to rescue Mr. Graham's, the man who was about to marry Sophia Calvert."

"Not at all, Milly. It was Graham who shot Barnard; and then poor Calvert, horrified at his friend's fate--"

Calvert never waited for more. He saw that there was that amount of mistake and misunderstanding, which required no aid on his part, and now nothing remained but to present himself suddenly before them as a fugitive from justice seeking shelter and protection. The rest he was content to leave to hazard.

A sharp ring at the door-bell was scarcely answered by the servant, when the man came to the drawing-room door, and made a sign to Miss Grainger.

"What is it, Giacomo? What do you mean?" she cried.

"Just one moment, signora; half a minute here," he said.

Well accustomed to the tone of secrecy a.s.sumed by Italians on occasions the least important, Miss Grainger followed him outside, and there, under the glare of the hall-lamp, stood Calvert, pale, his hair dishevelled, his cravat loosened, and his coat-sleeve torn. "Save me!

hide me!" said he, in a low whisper. "Can you--will you save me?"

She was one not unfitted to meet a sudden change; and, although secretly shocked, she rallied quickly, and led him into a room beside the hall "I know all," said she. "We all knew it was your name."

"Can you conceal me here for a day--two days at furthest?"

"A week, if you need it."

"And the servant--can he be trusted?"

"To the death. I'll answer for him."

"How can you keep the secret from the girls?"

"I need not; they must know everything."

"But Florence; can she--has she forgiven me?"

"Yes, thoroughly. She scarcely knows about what she quarrelled with you.

She sometimes fears that she wronged you; and Milly defends you always."

"You have heard--you know what has happened to me?"

"In a fashion: that is, we only know there has been a duel. We feared you had been wounded; and, indeed we heard severely wounded."

"The story is too long to tell you now; enough, if I say it was all about Sophy. You remember Sophy, and a fellow who was to have married her, and who jilted her, and not only this but boasted of the injury he had done her, and the insult he had thrown on us. A friend of mine, Barnard, a brother officer, heard him--but why go on with this detail?--there was a quarrel and a challenge, and it was by merest accident I heard of it, and reached Basle in time. Of course, I was not going to leave to Barnard what of right belonged to me. There were, as you can imagine, innumerable complications in the matter. Rochefort, the other man's friend, and a French fellow, insisted on having a finger in the pie. The end of it was, I shot Graham and somebody else--I believe Rochefort--put a bullet into Barnard. The Swiss laws in some cantons are severe, and we only learned too late that we had fought in the very worst of them; so I ran, I don't know how, or in what direction. I lost my head for a while, and wandered about the Voralberg and the Splugen for a week or two. How I find myself now here is quite a mystery to me."

There was a haggard wildness in his look that fully accorded with all he said, and the old lady felt the most honest pity for his sufferings.

"I don't know if I'm perfectly safe here," said he, looking fearfully around him. "Are you sure you can conceal me, if need be?"

"Quite sure; have no fear about that. I'll tell the girls that your safety requires the greatest caution and secrecy, and you'll see how careful they will be."

"Girls _will_ talk, though," said he, doubtingly.