Twenty minutes later Léonie went dancing into Rupert’s chamber, and found that wounded hero propped up by pillows, rather pale, but otherwise himself. He was disgustedly spooning Madame’s broth, but his face brightened at the sight of Léonie.

“Hey, you madcap! Where in thunder are we now?”

Léonie shook her head.

“That I do not know,” she confessed. “But these people are kind, n’est-ce pas?”

“Deuced kind,” Rupert agreed, then scowled. “That fat woman won’t bring me food, and I’m devilish hungry. I could eat an ox, and this is what she gives me!”

“Eat it!” Léonie commanded. “It is very good, and an ox is not good at all. Oh, Rupert, I feared you were dead!”

“Devil a bit!” said Rupert cheerfully. “But I’m as weak as a rat, confound it. Stap me if I know what we’re at, the pair of us! What happened to you? And why by all that’s queer did Saint-Vire run off with you?”

“I do not know. He gave me an evil drug, and I slept for hours and hours. He is a pig-person. I hate him. I am glad that I bit him, and threw the coffee over him.”

“Did you, b’gad? Blister me if I ever met such a lass! I’ll have Saint-Vire’s blood for this, see if I don’t!” He wagged his head solemnly, and applied himself to the broth. “Here am I chasing you to God knows where, with never a sou in my pocket, nor a sword at my side, and the landlord’s hat on my head! And what they’ll be thinking at home the Lord knows! I don’t!”

Léonie curled herself up on the bed, and was requested not to sit on his lordship’s feet. She shifted her position a little, and related her adventures. That done, she demanded to know what had befallen Rupert.

“Blessed if I know!” said Rupert. “I went haring after you as far as the village, and learned the way you went. So I got me a horse, and set off for Portsmouth. But the luck was against me, so it was! You’d set sail an hour since, and the only boat leaving the harbour was a greasy old tub—well, well! What did I do then? ’Pon my soul I almost forget! No, I have it! I went off to sell the horse. Twenty meagrely guineas was all he fetched, but a worse——”

“Sold one of Monseigneur’s horses?” exclaimed Léonie.

“No, no ’twas a brute I got at the blacksmith’s, owned by—burn it, what’s the fellow’s name—Manvers!”

“Oh, I see!” said Léonie, relieved. “Go on. You did very well, Rupert!”

“Not so bad, was it?” said Rupert modestly. “Well, I bought a passage on the old tub, and we got in at Le Havre at one, or thereabouts.”

“We did not leave Le Havre until two! He thought you would not follow, and he said that he was safe enough now!”

“Safe, eh? I’ll show him!” Rupert shook his fist. “Where was I?”

“At Le Havre,” Léonie prompted.

“Oh, ay, that’s it! Well, by the time I’d paid this fee and that, my guineas were all gone, so off I went to sell my diamond pin.”

“Oh! It was such a pretty pin!”

“Never mind that. The trouble I had to get rid of the damned thing you’d scarce believe. ’Pon my soul, I believe they thought I’d stolen it!”

“But did you sell it?”

“Ay, for less than half its worth, rot it! Then I skipped off to the inn to inquire of you, and to get me something to eat. Thunder and turf, but I was hungry!”

“So was I!” sighed Léonie. “And that pig-person ate and ate!”

“You put me out,” said Rupert severely. “Where was I? Oh yes! Well, the landlord told me that Saint-Vire was gone off by coach to Rouen at two o’clock, so the next thing I had to do was to hire a horse to be after you again. That’s all there is to it, and devilish good sport it was! But where we are now, or what we’re to do, beats me!”

“The Comte will come, do you not think?” Léonie asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. He can’t very well snatch you when I’m here. I wish I knew what the plague he wants with you. Y’know, this is mighty difficult, for we haven’t either of us a notion what the game is we’re playing.” He frowned, thinking. “Of course, Saint-Vire may come to steal you again. He’ll have ridden back to Le Havre first, depend on’t, and when he finds we’ve not been there he may scour the country-side, for he knows he hit me, and it’s likely we’d be hiding somewhere near.”

“What are we to do?” asked Léonie, with pale cheeks.

“What, not afraid, are you? Damn it, he can’t walk off with you under my very nose!”

“Oh, he can, Rupert, he can! You are so weak you cannot help me!”

Rupert made an effort to hoist himself up, and failed dismally. He lay fuming.

“Well, damme, I can fire!”

“But we have no gun!” objected Léonie. “At any moment he may come, and these people will never be able to keep him out.”

“Pistol, child, pistol! Lord, what will you say next? Of course we have one! D’ye take me for a fool? Feel in the pockets of my coat.”

Léonie jumped down from the bed, and dragged my lord’s coat from the chair. She produced Mr. Fletcher’s unwieldy pistol from one of its pockets, and brandished it gleefully.

“Rupert, you are very clever! Now we can kill that pig-person!”

“Hi, put it down!” commanded Rupert in some alarm. “You know naught of pistols, and we’ll have an accident if you fiddle with it! The thing’s loaded and cocked!”

“I do know about pistols!” said Léonie indignantly. “You point it, so! And pull this thing.”

“For God’s sake, put it down!” cried Rupert. “You’re levelling the damned thing at me, silly chit! Put it on the table beside me, and find my purse. It’s in my breeches pocket.”

Léonie laid the pistol down reluctantly, and rummaged anew for the purse.

“How much have we?” Rupert asked.

Léonie emptied the guineas on to the bed. Three rolled on to the floor, and one dropped into Rupert’s broth with a splash.

“’Pon my soul, you are a careless minx!” said Rupert, fishing for the coin in his bowl. “There’s another gone now, under the bed!”

Léonie dived after the errant guineas, retrieved them, and sat down on the bed to count them.

“One, two, four, six, and a louis—oh, and another guinea, and three sous, and——”

“That’s not the way! Here, give ’em to me! There’s another gone under the bed, burn it!”

Léonie was grovelling under the bed in search of the coin when they heard the clatter of wheels outside.

“What’s that?” said Rupert sharply. “Quick! To the window!”

Léonie extricated herself with difficulty, and ran to the window.

“Rupert, ’tis he! Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, what are we to do?”

“Can you see him?” Rupert demanded.

“No, but there is a coach, and the horses are steaming! Oh listen, Rupert!”

Voices were heard below, expostulating. Evidently Madame was guarding the staircase.

“Saint-Vire, I’ll bet a monkey!” said Rupert. “Where’s that pistol? Plague take this broth!” He threw the bowl and the rest of its contents on to the floor, settled his wig straight, and reached out a hand for the pistol, a very grim look on his drawn young face.

Léonie darted forward and seized the weapon.

“You are not enough strong!” she said urgently. “See, you have exhausted yourself already! Leave me! I will shoot him dead!”

“Here, no, I say!” expostulated Rupert. “You’ll blow him to smithereens! Give it to me! Fiend seize it, do as I say!”

The commotion below had subsided a little, and footsteps could be heard mounting the stairs.

“Give that pistol to me, and get you to the other side of the bed,” ordered Rupert. “By Gad, we’ll see some sport now! Come here!”

Léonie had backed to the window, and stood with the pistol levelled at the door, her finger crooked about the trigger. Her mouth was shut hard, and her eyes blazed. Rupert struggled impatiently to rise.

“For God’s sake, give it to me! We don’t want to kill the fellow!”

“Yes, we do,” said Léonie. “He gave me an evil drug.”

The door opened.

“If you come one step into the room I will shoot you dead!” said Léonie clearly.

“And I thought that you would be pleased to see me, ma fille,” said a soft drawling voice. “I beg you will not shoot me dead.” Great-coated, booted and spurred, not a hair of his elegant wig out of place, his Grace of Avon stood upon the threshold, quizzing-glass raised, a faint smile curling his thin lips.

Rupert gave a shout of laughter, and collapsed on to his pillows.

“Thunder and turf, but I never thought I’d live to be thankful for the sight of you, Justin!” he gasped. “Stap me if I did!”

CHAPTER XX

His Grace of Avon Takes Command of the Game

The colour came flooding back to Léonie’s cheeks.

“Monseigneur!” she gasped, and flew across the room towards him, laughing and crying at once. “Oh, Monseigneur, you have come, you have come!” She landed breathless in his arms, and clung to him.

“Why, ma fille!” said his Grace gently. “What is all this? Did you doubt I should come?”

“Take that pistol from her,” recommended Rupert faintly, but with a smile.

The pistol was pressed to his Grace’s heart. He removed it from Léonie’s clutch, and pocketed it. He looked down at the curly head with a curious smile, and presently stroked it.

“My dear infant, you must not cry. Come, it is in very truth Monseigneur! There is nothing to frighten you.”

“Oh, I am n-not frightened!” said Léonie. “I am so very glad!”

“Then I beg you will signify your gladness in a more becoming manner. May I ask what you are doing in those clothes?”

Léonie kissed his hand, and mopped her eyes.