CHAPTER XXVII. FLIGHT!

It was a long time before Lord Ravenspur replied. He paced up and down the studio immersed in his own gloomy thoughts. Then gradually his face cleared, his eyes flashed with resolution.

"I begin to see my way," he said. "It is not for my sake, but that of the child. I hope you will believe me when I say I am no coward. If it were six months hence I could laugh at the danger, because, whatever happened to me, I should have succeeded in my purpose. In six months' time Vera will be of age. At the expiration of that period she can become a naturalized British subject. Then the Crown will look after her interests, and see that the estates which she will some day inherit are properly administered. Six months hence Vera will be her own mistress. She has already been informed what her mother is like, and she will know how to behave towards that woman. It will be a satisfaction for me to know that we have baffled those bloodthirsty wretches after all."

"And in the meantime?" Walter asked. "Don't you think we should have Silva arrested, so that at any rate we should be safe as far as he is concerned? We could easily find him."

"I don't think so," Ravenspur said, thoughtfully. "I know my enemy by sight, which you will admit is a very great advantage. If another assassin comes along, he will have a tremendous pull over me. Besides, you made a suggestion just now which gave me a brilliant idea. You said that it was a pity we hadn't got the dogs here. We will have a couple of bloodhounds up the first thing in the morning, and one of them shall sleep in my bedroom, the other in the studio. The hounds are not in the least dangerous to those who know them. But I pity the midnight intruder who comes along and gets introduced to one of them. That will be one way of protecting myself for a time, and it will give the scoundrels something to do to devise fresh means of putting an end to me. I have thought it all out, and the best thing we can do is to disappear."

"Disappear!" Walter cried. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I say. The thing can be done tomorrow night. There is nothing easier."

"But tomorrow night we are going to Lady Ringmar's great reception," Walter urged. "I understand that it is to be one of the biggest things of the season, and I know that Vera is looking forward to it with the greatest possible pleasure."

"Well, we can go," Ravenspur said, a trifle impatiently. "Now my scheme is this: we go to Lady Ringmar's, and stay there till about two o'clock in the morning. We take certain wraps with us, and we leave the house, not in one of the carriages, but in a hired fly which will subsequently take us to Waterloo Station. By special train we will go down to Weymouth, and at that point hire a yacht to convey us to Jersey. There we shall be able to stay a few days, and settle our plans. The servants can easily get all we want together early tomorrow morning, and send the bags down to Weymouth as luggage in advance. The next day the papers will contain the information that Lord Ravenspur has suddenly been attacked with a mysterious illness, and that he has been ordered to leave London at once. As perfect rest and quietness are prescribed, he is keeping his address a secret, and has given strict orders that no communication of any kind is to be forwarded. Even the servants in Park Lane will profess not to know where we have gone, which will be nothing less than the truth. How does the idea strike you?"

Walter murmured something in reply. As a matter of fact, he was not in the least in love with the scheme, though Lord Ravenspur appeared to be so eager and happy about it, that he had not the heart to throw cold water on the programme. From his more youthful point of view, the idea of flight seemed cowardly. He would have placed the matter in the hands of the police. He would not have shrunk from the utmost publicity. But still, there was Vera to be considered. The girl's future was of the first importance.

"Very well," he said, "I will give up my time tomorrow to getting ready. I suppose now that you won't want me to telegraph to the Hampshire place for the dogs?"

"Oh, I think you had better," Ravenspur said. "One never knows what may turn up. And there is always the chance of the secret being discovered. And now let us go to bed, and try to get some sleep. I haven't had a night's rest for a week. I am longing to find myself on board a yacht again. I shall be safe there at all events. Good-night, my boy."

It was after lunch the following day that Vera came into the billiard-room in search of Walter. The latter had practically finished his preparations. He had done everything that his uncle had entrusted to him, and there was nothing now but to wait the turn of events. In a well-regulated establishment like that of Lord Ravenspur's, everything had proceeded smoothly enough. By luncheon time the whole of the boxes and portmanteaux had been packed, and the luggage despatched. Still, there was a perplexed look in Vera's eyes as she came into the billiard-room.

"I have been looking for you everywhere, Walter," she said. "I want to know what is the meaning of all this mystery. I have seen enough baggage leave the house to supply us with all we want for a season in Scotland. When I asked my maid what she was doing, she simply said that she had been instructed by the housekeeper to get my things ready. Of course, I raised no objection, but I should certainly like to know what it all means."

Walter looked a trifle embarrassed. He had quite forgotten that Vera might show a natural curiosity.

"We are going away for a little time," he explained. "The fact of the matter is, your guardian has not been at all well lately. But you must have noticed that for yourself. He has had a great deal to try him, too, and he is afraid of a breakdown. We are going to Weymouth direct from Lord Ringmar's House, and not a soul is to know anything about it. You see, if we stay and make elaborate preparations, it will take quite a week to make a start. It is far better to let people know afterwards that Lord Ravenspur has been ordered away peremptorily, and that he is to have perfect rest for the next month or so. Only I can't sufficiently impress upon you the necessity of keeping this thing absolutely secret."

"Even from Lady Ringmar?" Vera cried.

"From everybody," Walter said, somewhat sternly. "Vera, your guardian is in great danger. You are in great danger yourself. I dare not tell you more now, but perhaps I shall be permitted to say it later on. Go about your business or pleasure to-day just as if nothing had happened."

Vera asked no further questions. She was perhaps just a little hurt that Walter had refused to take her into his confidence. At the same time, she was young and vigorous, and the thought of a change was not displeasing. She passed out of the house presently with a view to a walk in the park. She stopped before a feeble, blind old man who was dolefully grinding out hymns on a dilapidated organ. A boy of some ten or twelve years was guiding the unfortunate man along the pavement. Vera took out her purse, and placed a shilling in the little tin cup which the boy was carrying.

"I have not seen you here before," she said kindly.

The man murmured something to the effect that this was his first day with the organ. He seemed uneasy and undecided in his manner, and, naturally enough, Vera put this down to the strangeness of his surroundings. Then she hastened on to the park, and the little incident passed from her mind. She had tea subsequently with a friend in Grosvenor Square, and when she came back, barely in time to dress for dinner, she saw that the blind man was still in the Lane, grinding industriously at his melancholy airs.

"I suppose Walter has told you," Ravenspur said as they sat down to dinner. "You know where we are going?"

"He told me part," Vera said. "Really, I don't quite understand what all this mystery means."

"Indeed, it is absolutely necessary," Ravenspur said gravely. "It is as necessary for your happiness as it is for mine. I have done my best to safeguard your welfare----"

"Oh, yes, yes," Vera cried contritely. "I am a most ungrateful girl to speak in that way. After all, I am looking forward to the trip. It is probably the last happy time we shall have together. Yes; I have quite made up my mind to get my own living. But we won't discuss that tonight."

Dinner was over at length and the carriage was ordered round. Vera came downstairs presently; her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were sparkling. She was very alluring and attractive in her white dress. She had made up her mind to be absolutely happy tonight. The dress was a special present from Lord Ravenspur, and Vera had been afraid to ask what the Paris house had charged for it. Still, it was the last extravagance she was going to put Lord Ravenspur to.

"I declare there is my old blind man still," she said, as she got into the carriage. "He must have been here all day. I must make inquiries, and see what I can do for him."

The door of the carriage was banged to, and the horses trotted away. As they passed the spot where the blind man was standing he suddenly ceased his doleful airs and whistled softly. A moment later and a shabby figure came shuffling down the Lane.

"That's right, Stevens," the blind man said in a quick, clear voice. "Now here's the note, and, mind, you are not to deliver it before half-past twelve. This is most important. If you are successful, come back to me at the appointed spot, and I will see that you get your money--fifty pounds."