“Sir,” said Mr. Liversedge, with hauteur, “I must perforce yield to force majeure.”

But when, half an hour later, the curricle and the tilbury drew up outside the shell of the Bird in Hand, he was at last bereft of all power of self-expression, and could only gaze upon the blackened ruins in incredulous dismay. Both Wragby and Nettlebed were inclined to make an end to him then and there, but his amazement was so patent that Gideon intervened to restrain them. “Well, Mr. Liversedge?” he said. “What now have you to say?”

“Sir,” said Mr. Liversedge, in some agitation, “when last I saw this hostelry it was indeed a poor place, but, I assure you, intact! What can have occurred to reduce it to this pitiful skeleton, I know not! And what has become of its owner, or, I may add, its noble guest, are matters wholly beyond my powers of conjecture! I confess that they are matters which do not, at this present, exercise my mind profoundly. I have no reason to suppose, Captain Ware, that you are a man of feeling, but even your hardened heart may be touched by the reflection that the few worldly possessions remaining to me were encased in that unworthy building!”

“My hardened heart remains untouched. I want my cousin!” Gideon said brusquely, and touched up his horse. “There must be someone in the village who can tell us when this fire broke out!”

Enquiry in Arlesey led him presently to the cottage inhabited by the Shotterys. Their account of the fire was necessarily imperfect, but they knew enough to be able to convince Gideon that it had been started by his enterprising cousin. He listened to them at first in surprise, and then with his crooked smile. But Nettlebed was quite thunderstruck, and said roundly that he had never known his Grace to do the like, and didn’t believe a word of it.

“Peace, fool!” said Gideon. “You know nothing about his Grace—as little as the rest of us! So he won free without our help! He is doing very well, in fact.”

“Captain Ware,” said Mr. Liversedge warmly, “you are in the right of it! Though I am a sufferer from his ingenuity, I bear him no malice. Indeed, it is very gratifying to see a man so young and so untried acquit himself so creditably! You will permit me to tell you that this little adventure has been the making of him. When I saw him first he was uncertain of himself: he had been too much cosseted, too carefully shielded from contact with the world. The experiences he has passed through will have done him a great deal of good: I have no scruple in asserting it, and it is a happiness to me to reflect that he owes his emancipation to me.”

This was too much for Nettlebed, who advanced upon Mr. Liversedge with such deadly purpose that he had to be called sharply to order. “Master Gideon!” he said explosively, “I’ve known you from your cradle, and stand by while that gaol-bird gammons you with his talk I will not! And his Grace, the while in the lord knows what case!”

“If one thing is more plain than another,” responded Gideon, “it is that his Grace stands in no need of our help! I own, if I had known what dangers he would run into I would not have let him set out as I did, but by God I am glad I did not know! This fellow is a rogue, but he is speaking the truth: his Grace has found himself. I wonder what took him to Hitchin?”

Matthew, who had been puzzling over it in silence, said: “Well, I don’t understand any of it! Why did he not go home when he had done what he came to do? What should have kept him in Hertfordshire?”

“Ay, and it’s my belief you can answer that!” said Nettlebed, addressing himself to Mr. Liversedge.

“Fellow,” said Mr. Liversedge loftily, “do not try my patience too far, or you will regret it! I have so far held my peace, but if you provoke me I shall disclose certain information so damaging to the Duke’s reputation that you will be sorry!”

Nettlebed wrung his hands. “Master Gideon!” he said imploringly, “it’s more than flesh and blood can bear! If you won’t let me make him swallow his lying words, will you give him over to the Law, and be done with it?”

“Captain Ware,” said Mr. Liversedge, “if you do any such thing, I must throw my scruples to the wind, and bring an action against your noble relative for abducting my ward!”

At these words, Matthew gave a start, and exclaimed: “Belinda? Good God! No, no, he would not—!”

“I never heard the like of it, not in all my days!” exploded Nettlebed. “To think I’d be standing here listening to such wicked slanders! His Grace never abducted no one, nor never would!”

“He seduced her—I say it with confidence!—with promises of rich raiment!” announced Mr. Liversedge. “And let me tell you, Captain Ware, that my ward has not yet attained the age of seventeen! An innocent flower, who has now suffered doubly at the hands of your family!”

Matthew drew his cousin a little apart, an urgent hand grasping his elbow. “Gideon, if that is so it is the most devilish coil! No, no, I don’t mean he abducted her, but you don’t know Belinda! Indeed, it will not do! We must instantly find them, and rescue him! She is the loveliest creature, and I’m sure I don’t blame him for—But it will not do, Gideon!”

“What nonsense, Matt!” Gideon said impatiently. “Gilly became engaged to Harriet only a week ago!”

“Yes; I know, but you haven’t seen Belinda!” said Matthew simply.

Gideon suddenly remembered a passage in the Duke’s letter to him. “Good God!” he muttered. “No, it’s ridiculous! I never knew Gilly to be in the petticoat-line. As for abduction—fustian!”

“Well, of course, but yon don’t know what a fellow this Liversedge is!” Matthew said, under his breath. “He will make trouble for Gilly if he can, and he is Belinda’s uncle—or so he says.”

“He’ll have no opportunity to make trouble,” replied Gideon shortly.

“He will if you hand him over to the Law,” Matthew warned him. “I don’t mean he could succeed in a charge, but it would make the devil of a stir, you know! But what are we to do with him?”

“It seems to me,” said Gideon, “that I had best find Adolphus, and discover just what mischief he is brewing. I’ll take Liversedge along with me, and Adolphus can decide what is to be done with him. As for you, had you leave to come here?”

“Oh, yes, I told the Bagwig I was wanted on urgent family affairs, and he gave me an exeat. But, you know, Gideon, I do think Nettlebed needs a set-down! It is the outside of enough for him to come searching for me at Oxford, and behaving as though I were a schoolboy, and threatening to go to the Bagwig himself if I would not tell him where he could find Gilly!”

“I wish he might have done so!” said his cousin unsympathetically. “What in thunder do you mean by saddling Adolphus with your damned follies? No thanks to you he is not now being bled white! Get back to Oxford, and if you can’t keep out of silly scrapes, for God’s sake bring ’em to me in future, and don’t encourage Gilly to risk his neck in your service!”

Matthew was so much incensed by this unfeeling speech that he embarked on a long and indignant vindication of himself. Gideon broke in on it without compunction, and told him to spare his breath. Matthew glared at him, and said: “Well, it is just as much my affair as yours, and I shall go with you to Hitchin!”

“You may do that, for it’s on your way, but you’ll go no farther with me!” said Gideon, turning away.

He found that he was being anxiously watched by Nettlebed and Wragby, in whom dislike of Mr. Liversedge had engendered a temporary alliance. Mr. Liversedge was seated at his ease in the curricle, his plump hands folded, and a benign, not to say saintly expression on his countenance. Mr. Liversedge saw in his sudden recollection of Belinda the hand of Providence working powerfully on his behalf, and was able to meet Captain Ware’s hard eyes with an indulgent smile.

“We are now bound for Hitchin, my hopeful friend,” said Gideon. “It appears to me that my noble relative might be glad to have you delivered into his hands!”

“If,” retorted Mr. Liversedge superbly, “your noble relative has the least regard for justice, sir, he will see in me a benefactor!”

“Master Gideon, only let me darken his daylights!” implored Nettlebed tearfully.

This favour having been denied him, he climbed up sulkily into Matthew’s hired tilbury. Gideon took his place on the box of the curricle, and gathered up the reins. Mr. Liversedge said kindly: “May I proffer a piece of advice, sir? I apprehend you are about to make some stir of Hitchin by enquiring for the Duke of Sale. Speaking as one who has his Grace’s true interests at heart, I would counsel you to enquire rather for Mr. Rufford, under which sobriquet I have reason to believe him to be travelling.”

Gideon, who was beginning to be amused by his effrontery, thanked him, and, upon arrival at the Sun Inn, followed his advice. The result was not happy. The landlord regarded him with patent hostility, and said that if ever he had had an inkling of the trouble which was to come upon him through giving this precious Mr. Rufford house-room he would have put up his shutters rather than have faced it.

“And if it’s that pesky boy of his as you’re after, it ain’t no manner of use asking me,” he added. “Because it’s none of my business, nor never was! And if it’s rooms you’re wanting, the house is full!”

Captain Ware, whose autocratic temperament did not make it easy for him to swallow impertinence with a good grace, took instant exception to this form of address, and was on the point of adding to a pithy summary of the landlord’s failings and probable end his own name and style when Mr. Liversedge, with his deprecating cough, laid a hand on his sleeve, and said: “Ahem! Allow me, sir! Now, my good man, attend to me, if you please! You will not deny that Mr. Rufford has lately been staying in this inn, with—I fancy—a young companion.”