Edward Rafferty and I had planned a spot of shooting at Manton's Gallery in London. Let us go at once."
He opened the door of the carriage and hopped in without bothering to have the step let down. The pistol, still in its case, was stowed in the side pocket of the carriage, where its bulge brought less assurance of safety than dread that it might have to be used. Carlisle's tiger happily took over the reins of the curricle, and was the happiest member of the party for the next several miles.
Within the closed carriage, spirits were low. Carlisle was naturally curious to discover where the message was secreted. He was quite as persistent as Kiley in the matter. At length Vanessa said, to silence his questions, "I have it hidden under the lining of my valise. It is quite safe. One would have to know exactly where it is to find it. The lining has been glued back over it."
She was becoming uneasy at his hard questioning. Doubts began to assail her as to his trustworthiness, but once she had told him her lie as to where it was hidden, he settled down to lighter conversation.
"I had to know, you know, in case anything happened to you. I don't wish to frighten you unnecessarily," he added apologetically. "I shall do everything in my power to see nothing does happen, but it is best to be prepared for any contingency."
"Yes," she agreed, and settled back to try to relax.
"Let us speak of other things," he said, trying manfully to amuse them, but his next speech was hardly one to bring ease. "Is Kiley following us? I hope the constable I sent for has stopped him."
They looked back down the road, where the dust from his curricle whirled into a cloud with that from their own carriage, making the view very murky indeed.
"We cannot very well forbid him the highway," he went on. "Don't worry. I can handle him." He glanced to the bulging side pocket, while Miss Simons fanned herself with her gloves and wondered what she was doing, mixed up in such desperate goings-on. She had not thought of the ball since morning. How very odd!
The afternoon dragged on more slowly than the morning. There was a constant peering out the back window to see if Kiley was coming. With the denser traffic of the main thoroughfare, it was impossible to tell, but when they stopped to change team and take a glass of wine in mid-aftemoon, he was observed to enter the yard not long after them. When they left, he drained his glass.
"Can't we do something to lose him?" Miss Simons begged their escort. "My nerves are on edge, always seeing him there behind us, hovering like a vulture."
"He hasn't done anything," Carlisle pointed out. "If he so much as speaks to either of you at the next stop, I shall beat him. Or call a constable," he added, perhaps more realistically. Carlisle was well enough set up, but a few inches shorter than Kiley, and smaller across the chest.
"I know he will break into our room again tonight," Miss Bradford worried. During the trip, she had told Carlisle of her being hit on the head and searched.
"By God, he won't, if I have to sleep outside your door with a pistol in my hands," he said hotly. "Is there no friend in the area you can go to, as you did the Raffertys last night?"
"No one. He would only make an excuse and barge in after us if we did. Maybe we had best get a fresh team and travel all night," she suggested. She was immediately talked down by her aunt, who raised the same objection as the previous night, with the same result.
"Why don't you let me keep the valise that holds the letter?" Carlisle asked. "I hesitated to suggest it when it was diamonds you spoke of, but a letter is another matter. I could have no possible interest in it, except to see it safely delivered. Kiley would not likely look for it in my safekeeping.
"An excellent idea," Miss Simons thought.
As the valise was innocent of anything but her clothing, Vanessa agreed to it. This was the plan set on. He would take the valise, guard it with his life, while
He opened the door of the carriage and hopped in without bothering to have the step let down. The pistol, still in its case, was stowed in the side pocket of the carriage, where its bulge brought less assurance of safety than dread that it might have to be used. Carlisle's tiger happily took over the reins of the curricle, and was the happiest member of the party for the next several miles.
Within the closed carriage, spirits were low. Carlisle was naturally curious to discover where the message was secreted. He was quite as persistent as Kiley in the matter. At length Vanessa said, to silence his questions, "I have it hidden under the lining of my valise. It is quite safe. One would have to know exactly where it is to find it. The lining has been glued back over it."
She was becoming uneasy at his hard questioning. Doubts began to assail her as to his trustworthiness, but once she had told him her lie as to where it was hidden, he settled down to lighter conversation.
"I had to know, you know, in case anything happened to you. I don't wish to frighten you unnecessarily," he added apologetically. "I shall do everything in my power to see nothing does happen, but it is best to be prepared for any contingency."
"Yes," she agreed, and settled back to try to relax.
"Let us speak of other things," he said, trying manfully to amuse them, but his next speech was hardly one to bring ease. "Is Kiley following us? I hope the constable I sent for has stopped him."
They looked back down the road, where the dust from his curricle whirled into a cloud with that from their own carriage, making the view very murky indeed.
"We cannot very well forbid him the highway," he went on. "Don't worry. I can handle him." He glanced to the bulging side pocket, while Miss Simons fanned herself with her gloves and wondered what she was doing, mixed up in such desperate goings-on. She had not thought of the ball since morning. How very odd!
The afternoon dragged on more slowly than the morning. There was a constant peering out the back window to see if Kiley was coming. With the denser traffic of the main thoroughfare, it was impossible to tell, but when they stopped to change team and take a glass of wine in mid-aftemoon, he was observed to enter the yard not long after them. When they left, he drained his glass.
"Can't we do something to lose him?" Miss Simons begged their escort. "My nerves are on edge, always seeing him there behind us, hovering like a vulture."
"He hasn't done anything," Carlisle pointed out. "If he so much as speaks to either of you at the next stop, I shall beat him. Or call a constable," he added, perhaps more realistically. Carlisle was well enough set up, but a few inches shorter than Kiley, and smaller across the chest.
"I know he will break into our room again tonight," Miss Bradford worried. During the trip, she had told Carlisle of her being hit on the head and searched.
"By God, he won't, if I have to sleep outside your door with a pistol in my hands," he said hotly. "Is there no friend in the area you can go to, as you did the Raffertys last night?"
"No one. He would only make an excuse and barge in after us if we did. Maybe we had best get a fresh team and travel all night," she suggested. She was immediately talked down by her aunt, who raised the same objection as the previous night, with the same result.
"Why don't you let me keep the valise that holds the letter?" Carlisle asked. "I hesitated to suggest it when it was diamonds you spoke of, but a letter is another matter. I could have no possible interest in it, except to see it safely delivered. Kiley would not likely look for it in my safekeeping.
"An excellent idea," Miss Simons thought.
As the valise was innocent of anything but her clothing, Vanessa agreed to it. This was the plan set on. He would take the valise, guard it with his life, while
Similar Books
