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She did not reply, and he went on excitedly:
"Now let me see what friends we have left. The Barclays stand firm as rocks. Those Deans, too--so vulgar, but quite as friendly as before.
Mrs Pontardent."
"Mrs Pontardent, father?"
"Yes, my dear, yes. Among so few, we must not be choosers. Remember old Hobson, you know. I know nothing against her but her tables. They gamble high; but where do they not? She has arranged for an evening, and I have promised her to go and take the management, and help her to receive her visitors--and--er--and--"
"She has asked you to bring me?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I could read it in your eyes, father," said Claire. "Oh, it is impossible."
"I will not press you, my child; but it is almost life to me, and it would be giving us a stepping-stone to recover our lost ground."
"Do you wish me to go, father?"
"If--if--you would not mind very much, my dear," he said hesitatingly.
"It would be helping me."
He kissed her hand and left her to her own thoughts. The tears flowed for a while, and then, with a sigh, Claire rose with a look of resignation on her countenance, as if she accepted her fate.
Volume Two, Chapter XX.
PRIVATE INSTRUCTIONS.
"Look here, Bell," said Major Rockley, as he stood in his quarters, with his regimental servant before him; "you were drunk again last night?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you are not ashamed of it?"
"Yes, sir, very much ashamed of it. It's my weakness, sir."
"Weakness, you scoundrel? It's your blackguardly conduct. You have been under arrest so many times for this disgraceful behaviour, and I have such a black list against you, that if I lay it before Colonel Lascelles he will have you flogged."
"But you won't do that, sir."
"Yes, I will, you scoundrel. No: I'll give you another chance."
"Thank you, sir; I was sure you would," said the young man, flushing slightly, and with a strange look in his face.
"By the way, what time did Mr Denville come back to his quarters?"
"Two o'clock, sir."
"With whom had he been?"
"Sir Matthew Bray, sir. Lady Drelincourt's, I think."
"Humph! Now, look here; can I trust you, Bell?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I'm going to give you a delicate bit of business to do for me."
"Yes, sir."
"If you do it well, I shall give you a clean slate to begin again, and wipe off that last report."
"Thankye, sir."
"I cannot--at least I do not wish to--be seen in the business preparations, so I trust to you."
"Yes, sir."
"Go directly then, to Moggridge's, and arrange for a post-chaise and four to be at Prince's Road to-night at--say eleven--no; half-past ten."
"Yes, sir."
"Pick good fast horses. Pack a light valise with a change; put my pistols in the pockets of the carriage, and you will be there ready to see me off. You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"There's--well, to be plain with you--a lady in the case."
"I see, sir."
"And, mind this; after we have started, you stay behind, and if there is any inquiry directly after, you volunteer information, and say we have taken the London Road. You understand?"
"Quite, sir."
"There's a sovereign for you. No: you'll get drunk if I give it you now. I'll give you five when I come back."
"Very good, sir."
"And mind, if I am wanted, I am unwell in bed. I want a good start."
"I see, sir. You may depend on me. But what house, sir, in Prince's Road?"
"You'll see, blockhead. The one that is lighted up. Mrs Pontardent's."
Major Rockley's regimental servant saluted, turned upon his heel, and went out muttering "Scoundrel!" between his teeth. "I wonder who the lady is?"
"I wouldn't change places with you, my fine fellow," he muttered, as he went across the parade ground; and, turning a corner, he came suddenly upon Sir Harry Payne, Sir Matthew Bray, and the new cornet, who flushed scarlet, as he saw the dragoon.
James Bell saluted, and was pa.s.sing, but Sir Harry Payne stopped him, and Cornet Denville said hastily: