Of High Descent Part 115

"Police?" he said. "What do you mean?"

"What a man does mean, you scoundrel, when he talks about them--to give you into custody."

"It is not a criminal offence to elope with a lady," said Pradelle, with a malicious look at Leslie, who stood before the door with his hands clenched.

"Uncle!" cried Louise, whose pale face now flamed up as she glanced at Leslie, and saw that he avoided her eyes.

"You wait," he said. "I'll finish with this fellow first, and end by taking you home."

"But, uncle, let me explain."

"You'll hold your tongue!" cried Pradelle sharply. "Think what you are going to do."

"Yes, she can hold her tongue," cried Uncle Luke, "while I settle our little business, sir. Let me see. Ah! I was always sure of that."

Pradelle had thrust himself forward offensively, and in a threatening manner so near that the old man had only to dart out one hand to seize him by the throat; and quick as lightning had drawn an old gold ring from the scarf the young man wore.

"What are you doing?" roared Pradelle, clenching his fist.

"Taking possession of my own. Look here, Leslie, my old signet-ring that scoundrel took from a nail over my chimney-piece."

"It's a lie, it's--"

"My crest, and enough by itself to justify the police being called up."

"A trick, a trumped-up charge," cried Pradelle.

"You must prove that at the same time you clear yourself of robbing Van Heldre."

"I--I rob Van Heldre! I swear I never had a shilling of his money."

"You were not coming away when I knocked you down with old Crampton's ruler, eh?"

Pradelle shrank from the upraised stick, and with an involuntary movement clapped his hand to his head.

"See that, Leslie!" cried the old man with a sneering laugh. "Yes, that was the place. I hit as hard as I could."

"A trick, a trap! Bah! I'm not scared by your threats. You stand aside, and let us pa.s.s!" cried Pradelle in a loud, bullying way, as he tried to draw Louise toward the door; but she freed herself from his grasp.

"No, no!" she cried wildly, as with ears and eyes on the strain she glanced at window and door, and caught her uncle's arm.

"Hah! glad you have so much good sense left. Nice scoundrel this to choose, my girl!"

"Uncle!" she whispered, "you shall let me explain."

"I don't want to hear any explanation," cried the old man angrily. "I know quite enough. Will you come home with me?"

"Yes!" she cried eagerly, and Leslie drew a breath full of relief.

"No!"

The negative came like a cry of agony.

"I cannot, uncle, I cannot."

"I'll see about that," cried the old man. "Now, Leslie, ask Sergeant Parkins to step up here."

"Let him if he dares!" cried Pradelle fiercely.

"Oh, he dares," said Uncle Luke, smiling. "Call him up, for it is a criminal case, after all."

"Stop!" cried Pradelle, as Leslie laid his hand upon the door.

"Yes, stop--pray, pray stop!" cried Louise in agony; and with a wild look of horror, which stung Leslie with jealous rage. "Uncle, you must not do this."

"I'd do it if it was ten times as hard!" cried the old man.

"What shall I say--what shall I do?" moaned Louise. "Uncle, uncle, pray don't do this. You must not send for the police. Give me time to explain--to set you right."

"Shame upon you!" cried the old man fiercely. "Defending such a scoundrel as that!"

"No, no, uncle, I do not defend this man. Listen to me; you do not know what you are doing."

"Not know what I am doing? Ah!"

He turned from her in disgust, and with a look of agony that thrilled him, she caught Leslie's arm.

"You will listen to me, Mr Leslie. You must not, you shall not, call in the police."

He did not speak for the moment, but stood hesitating as if yielding to her prayer; but the frown deepened upon his brow as he loosened her grasp upon his arm.

"It is for your good," he said coldly, "to save you from a man like that."

"I must speak, I must speak!" cried Louise, and then she uttered a wail of horror and shrank to her uncle's side.

For as she clung to Leslie, Pradelle, with a bullying look, planted himself before the door to arrest Leslie's progress, and then shrank back as he saw the grim smile of satisfaction upon the young Scot's face.

It was the work of moments, and the action seemed like to that of one of his own country deerhounds, as Leslie clashed at him; there was the dull sound of a heavy blow, and Pradelle went down with a crash in one corner of the room.

"Mr Leslie! Mr Leslie! for pity's sake stay!" cried Louise as she made for the door; but Uncle Luke caught her hand, and retained it as the door swung to.

"Uncle, uncle!" she moaned, "what have you done?"

"Done?" he cried. "You mad, infatuated girl! My duty to my brother and to you."

"All right," said Pradelle, rising slowly. "Let's have in the police then. I can clear myself, I dare say."

"Mr Pradelle, if you have a spark of manliness in you, pray say no more," cried Louise, as, s.n.a.t.c.hing herself free, she ran to him now.