Mr. Liversedge, gazing in chagrin at his host’s purposeful face, found no difficulty in believing him. Captain Ware appeared to him to be one who would not have the slightest hesitation in employing measures as extreme as they were disagreeable. He would probably, reflected Mr. Liversedge bitterly, enjoy setting Hertfordshire by the ears. And he would do it, too, for no magistrate, or constable, or Colonel of Militia would refuse to search with the utmost stringency for so important a personage as the Duke of Sale. Mr. Liversedge thought of Mr. Mimms’s feelings, if a search-party were to descend upon the Bird in Hand, as it unquestionably would. Mr. Mimms’s protests, when the lifeless body of the Duke had been placed in one of his cellars, had been as pungent as they were unavailing. He was not a man who courted notoriety, but he had not quite escaped the notice of Hertfordshire authorities, and there was little doubt that his hostelry would be one of the first houses to be visited. Nor could Mr. Liversedge place the smallest reliance on the faulty memories of Post Office officials. Ten to one, some busybody of a clerk would recall that he had handled letters addressed to a Mr. Liversedge. One thing would lead to another, and several things, once added together, might even lead to Bath, where there were incensed persons only too anxious to lay their hands upon Mr. Liversedge. He was not a man much given to self blame, but he was inclined to own, at this moment, that he had made several mistakes. It was not, of course, his fault that Captain Ware should have proved to be blind to his best interests, but it might have been wiser to have abandoned his Grand Stratagem in favour of the simpler one of extracting ransom from the Duke himself. It was a painful reflection that had he done this he might even now bear in his pocket the Duke’s draft for a handsome sum. He looked at the Captain with dislike, and could not imagine what could have induced the Duke to confide his secrets to such a repellent person. It seemed unlikely that Captain Ware had any proper feelings at all, so that it was in a voice lacking in conviction that he said at last: “I am persuaded you would not create such an ungenteel stir!”
Captain Ware laughed. It was not an infectious laugh, and it drew no answering gleam from Mr. Liversedge. It even grated upon his ear unpleasantly.
“I think you will lead me to my cousin,” said Captain Ware, walking over to the door. He opened it, and found that Wragby was standing in the hall. He grinned at him. “Come here, Wragby!” he said. “We are going to take a little journey tomorrow into Hertfordshire, and we are going to take this person with us.”
“You would be wiser to let me go immediately!” interpolated Mr. Liversedge desperately. “I dare not answer for the consequences to his Grace if I am any longer absent! He may be dead by the time you reach him, sir!”
“Now, what must I do to teach you that I am not such a gudgeon as you supposed?” wondered the Captain. “Those who are his gaolers will most certainly keep him alive until they know how you have fared with me. Wragby, I want this fellow kept under guard! That should not trouble you, I fancy!”
The ex-sergeant smiled indulgently. “Lor’ no, sir! We’ll rack up for the night, all right and tight together. And what may we be going to do in Hertfordshire, if I may make so bold as to ask?”
“We are going to extricate his Grace from a scrape,” replied Gideon, his eyes alight. “I’ll take the curricle, and my bays. Tell Sturry to see to it! We shall set out at the earliest possible moment.”
“What, are we going to take this rasher-of-wind along with us, sir?” demanded Wragby disapprovingly.
“Sir,” said Mr. Liversedge, “I would not have believed that any man of honour and breeding could have served another such a backhand turn!”
“Now, don’t you waste your breath talking slum!” recommended Wragby kindly. “A regular out-and-outer is the Captain, and so you’ll find afore you’re much older! You come along of me! Asking your pardon, sir, if you mean to go off, you’d best see the Colonel first.”
“I am going to find him now,” said Gideon. “Don’t let this fellow slip through your fingers!”
“What, me?” said Wragby, affronted. “It would take a better man than that silly bite to slip through my fingers, sir!”
He then haled Mr. Liversedge up a narrow, twisted stair to the kitchen, planted him in a wooden chair, and after informing him that he was a chub to have bearded such a neck-or-nothing blade as the Captain, congratulated him on his narrow escape from death by strangulation. Mr. Liversedge, never one to let opportunity slide, made several ingenious attempts to convince him that enormous benefits would be his if he chose to ally himself with his prisoner, but Wragby, after listening to him admiringly, said that he was as bold as Beauchamp, but that if he wanted a bite of supper he had best stop pitching his gammon. Mr. Liversedge, making the best of things, accepted this counsel, and pulled his chair up to the table.
Captain Ware, in spite of having chosen an unorthodox way of applying for it, had no difficulty in persuading his Colonel to grant him leave of absence. The Colonel not only considered Gideon one of his more promising officers, but he very much disliked scandal attaching to any member of his regiment. He no sooner learned that Gideon wished to go in search of his cousin than he said that he was very glad to hear it, and trusted that he would not return to town without him.
Leaving the Colonel, Gideon hesitated on the brink of paying a call on his father, and then decided that it would be wiser to write to him. He had no wish to be obliged to enter into lengthy explanations, and still less to find himself with Lord Lionel as another passenger in his carriage. It was by this time too late for his dinner-engagement at the Daffy Club, even had he not been too much disturbed by Gilly’s plight to have any inclination for a convivial party. He walked into Stephen’s Hotel instead, in Bond Street, where, since his was a known face, and one, moreover, that belonged to the military set, he was made discreetly welcome, and led to a vacant table in the coffee-room. The dinner which was served was well-chosen, and well-cooked, but the Captain made a poor meal. Had it been practicable, he would have preferred to have left town that evening. He had no very real fear that the Duke would be murdered by Mr. Liversedge’s confederates, but he hated to think of Gilly in the hands of villains who might use him roughly, or incarcerate him in some comfortless stronghold. How he had got himself into such a situation Gideon could not imagine, although he suspected that the adventure he had hinted at had something to do with Mr. Liversedge. He had never supposed that anything other than the mildest excitement would befall Gilly, and Mr. Liversedge’s disclosure had come to him as a shock that brought with it a revulsion of feeling. He now realized that he had been a fool to imagine that Gilly, all untried as he was, could fend for himself. If he had had a grain of sense he would have applied for leave a week earlier, and joined Gilly on his adventures. Then he remembered the mischievous twinkle in Gilly’s eyes when he had last seen him, and his refusal to divulge his destination, or even his purpose in leaving London. Gilly had not wanted his cousin’s company, and that fact alone ought to have put a sane man on his guard. Captain Ware, as the wine grew low in the bottle, began to feel little better than a murderer. His imagination played round Gilly’s present lot, and it was with an effort that he refrained from jumping up, and striding out of the hotel. To remain inactive while Gilly might need him urgently was almost more than he could bear; and had there been a full moon he thought he must have set out on his journey immediately. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that if Gilly knew Liversedge’s destination he would know also that his big cousin would come speedily to his rescue; but it did not seem probable that Liversedge would have told him in which case he must have given himself up for lost.