Dangerous Escapade (3 page)

“Who is this
gentleman,
Tante
Hélène?” he demanded
in cultured French. “Why have you brought him to see me?” The woman ran forward
and fell to her knees beside the boy.

“Never fret,
Petit
.’Tis your Papa's dear friend,
Milor
Debenham, come to take you home to
England, as is your father's wish. You will be safe with him.”

The sensitive
lips trembled. “I would much rather stay here with you,
Tante
Hélène,” he said, “England is not my home nor ever will be.”

“Indeed, you
must go, my little one,” she assured him gently. “Your papa has written to say
that it must be so; indeed, my love, we have always known that you could not
stay here forever. It is best this way.”

Kit regarded Debenham
under frowning black brows. The Earl returned his regard steadily.

“Come, Kit, this
is your father's command,” he said. “You and I should be friends, for we must not
fail him now.''

Kit rose
quickly, making Debenham a little bow, which was returned with due formality. “Sir,
I am grateful to you for coming to fetch me, and I will, of course, do as my
father wishes,” he began stiffly. “But it cannot be but that I shall be a
charge upon you. I do not think that you can really want me to live with you.”

The Earl
replied with equal gravity, “As we are not yet very well acquainted, I will spare
you protestations of regard. However, I hope that in time we may become
sincerely attached to each other and that I may be permitted to stand in some
respects as a father to you. This is not a question that we can discuss here,
so I would be obliged if you would pack whatever of your belongings you wish to
carry with you and return with me to my
hôtel
tonight.”

Kit stared up
at the handsome, uncompromising face before him. For a moment, it seemed that
he might rebel; then, with a shrug, he capitulated, saying: “As you wish, Sir.
Tante
Hélène
,
will you assist me?”

The Earl was much
amused by the quaint dignity displayed by his young charge and by the habitual note
of command in the immature voice. He perceived that Master Clareville was an
unusual character, and he looked forward with rather more enthusiasm to the
prospect of his guardianship.

After some
minutes, during which time Debenham was beguiled into pleasant conversation with
several damsels who had lingered in the scented boudoir, Hélène
and Master Clareville returned, the
latter clutching a valise.

Tenderly, the young
ladies gathered around their favourite to make their farewells. He submitted to
a series of affectionate embraces, returning them with a gentleness Lord
Debenham thought strange in a boy of his age, who might be expected to consider
these demonstrations unmanly and embarrassing.

At last, Kit turned
to Hélène, who stood a little apart, watching him hungrily. He held out his
arms to her, and she clasped him to her breast with a fervour that startled the
watching Earl.

“Farewell, dear
Tante
,” whispered the boy in a
choking voice.

“God go with
you, my dearest,” she answered softly, then thrust him from her almost roughly.
“Take care of
le petit
,
Milor
!” she commanded Debenham fiercely.
“Be kind to him.”

Lord Debenham bowed.
“I will do my poor best. Come, Kit, we must be off. Good day to you, ladies.
Madame, your very obedient.”

Once outside
the scented house with its opulent surroundings and oppressive atmosphere, a
change came over the Earl's young companion. He straightened his narrow shoulders
and swaggered along, head held high. There was something endearing in that brave
little gesture that made Lord Debenham regard his new acquaintance rather more
closely than before. He began to wonder if he had mistaken the child's age, for
there was a maturity in the delicate face that argued a greater burden of years
than he had at first supposed. He was about to question the lad when he was
himself addressed.

“
Milor,
I am sadly ignorant of affairs in
England. Do you have any news of my father for me? The last message I received
told me only that I must expect a friend's coming, nothing more. I confess that
I am afraid for my father. Please tell me the truth; I would much rather know
the worst.”

“I regret,
Kit, I have no good news to offer you. The communication I received from your
father was smuggled out of Newgate and was therefore necessarily short. I am
convinced, Kit, that he is as well as any man can be in such conditions, and he
will be given a fair trial, you know.”

They walked on
in silence for a while. Kit appeared to be labouring under some strong emotion,
which my Lord Debenham judged it wisest to allow him to wrestle with alone.
Therefore, he strode calmly on. Before they had covered a hundred yards, Kit
halted abruptly and turned to face Debenham.

“Sir, there is
something I must say to you,” he announced dramatically.

“Well, my boy?
I am all ears.”

“My Lord
Debenham, my father was betrayed into the hands of his enemies. I know this,
and I have sworn to find the traitor responsible.”

Debenham was
touched: “And what will you do when you find this scoundrel, Kit?” he asked
gently.

“I will kill
him,” the boy stated calmly.

“An admirable sentiment,
my friend, but I fear your vengeance will prove somewhat tardy. You are very
young, are you not?''

Kit hesitated:
“I am older than I appear,
Milor
, and
I am strong. My father has taught me well. I have no fears on that score.”

Debenham smiled
sceptically but, despite himself, he admired the boy's spirit. As for the disclosure
Kit had made, the Earl admitted it to be only too probable. He had good reason
to know that at least one traitor there was who moved amongst the best society
in the land. He knew that he was fortunate to have concealed his own
involvement in the late rebellion so successfully.

They had been
walking now for almost twenty minutes and were within sight of the fashionable
Rue Saint-Honoré
in which the
Hôtel
Debenham was situated, when Debenham became aware that they were not alone. His
trained senses detected the pursuers long before they came into view and, by
the sudden stiffening in the slim figure by his side, he knew that Kit also
sensed their danger.

He had only
time to shout a warning when they were assailed by four burly ruffians, all armed
in a manner unusual in common footpads and who bore down upon them in
purposeful silence.

“Four against one!”
The Earl laughed softly through his teeth; “I like these odds.”

“Against two, Sir!”
cried a young voice. Beside him, Kit had drawn his blade and was putting it to
business-like use.

Lord Debenham was
one of the finest swordsmen of his day. The first ruffian rushing forward to
engage him was parried with the utmost ease and sent staggering back with a well-aimed,
if ungentlemanly, kick to the groin. Wiping his forehead upon the velvet arm of
his coat, the Earl swung round on his heel to assist his young comrade and was
astounded to see the boy calmly withdrawing his blade from his fallen opponent.
A third man about to advance upon Kit palpably thought better of it and departed
hurriedly, leaving the fourth ruffian to the mercy of Debenham. This man, the largest
and most powerful of their antagonists, was obviously the ringleader; moreover,
he fenced a good deal more scientifically than his fellows. He fought desperately
on, causing Debenham a good deal of trouble until a particularly wild thrust in
prime gave Lord Debenham the opportunity for which he had been waiting. His blade
slid under his opponent's guard, piercing the lung, from which gushed the
unmistakably light red blood that betokened a mortal wound. With a choking cry,
the man sank to the ground, where he lay sprawling in his own gore.

Lord Debenham raised
his head to find Kit regarding him with an admiration not unmixed with speculation.

“No common
footpad that,
Milor
; he fought too
well.”

“He did indeed,”
agreed the Earl thoughtfully. “Allow me, by the way, to compliment you upon
your swordplay
—
a quite remarkable display in a
boy of your years!”

Kit shrugged deprecatingly,
“It was a lucky circumstance that I took him by surprise, Sir, for although I
was well taught, I am easily winded.”

 
“Nevertheless, well done! I find it in my
heart to pity the object of your vengeance after all. I had no idea you were so
ruthless.”

“You may well
pity him, Sir, for he will find none in me,” Kit answered calmly. Then,
shrugging off the dark mood, he asked in a lighter voice, “What is to be done with
these fellows, Sir? It seems a little untidy to leave them lying here.”

“I agree, but
I fail to see what else we can do. Comfort yourself with the reflection that,
were those our bodies, they would certainly have left us to rot in the gutter.
Doubtless, they will be removed by someone or other.”

“Doubtless,”
agreed Kit, and they walked off together towards the lighted street, very well
pleased with each other.

The excellence
of Master Clareville's swordsmanship had considerably surprised Debenham. On
the journey that followed, he was to encounter several more such surprises.

He would not
easily forget the evening of the first day, when, having stopped at a small inn
for the night, the Earl came down to dinner only to find his irrepressible ward
deep in play with a group of young officers also honouring the hostelry with
their presence. This was in itself surprising, but a good deal more so was the
pile of gold louis d'or before Master Clareville. He was winning very
considerably, which amused Debenham and rendered him, at first, inclined to be
rather indulgent of his ward’s precocity. However, having taken up his station
behind Master Clareville's chair, he was amazed to find that his ward was
systematically and very skilfully cheating.

Lord Debenham reached
down to place a firm hand on Kit's shoulder. “Enough is enough, my young friend.
I require my dinner, and I am sure these gentlemen will excuse you.”

Kit glanced up,
his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “As you say,
Milor
.
Messieurs
, forgive
me.” He bowed quaintly and left the table, gathering up his winnings with an apologetic
air as though embarrassed by his good fortune.

Alone with his
charge in the dining room, the Earl favoured him with a scathing denunciation of
his morals, the effect of which was somewhat spoiled by his then demanding to be
shown the trick of dealing from the bottom of the deck, an accomplishment he
had never been in the way of acquiring before.

In the study of
this useful technique, the evening was passed companionably, the Earl merely entreating
his ward to choose less burly and well-armed pigeons to fleece in the future.

They resumed their
journey on the morrow and continued in mutual felicity until Calais was reached
and the Dover Packet boarded.

The Earl was
congratulating himself on the exemplary behaviour of his ward when he became
aware of agitated voices outside his cabin door, followed by loud and angry
knocking.

His Lordship, who
was engaged in tying his neckcloth, was disinclined to move but, as the
knocking persisted, he grew exasperated and flung open the door in some
annoyance.

In the doorway,
were revealed a large red-faced man in a frieze greatcoat and a struggling
Master Clareville, held by the collar of his elegant coat. A variety of other
persons in a state of considerable agitation were gathered in the passage way,
all of whom addressed the Earl at once.

Lord Debenham waited
for the hubbub to die down before attempting to make himself heard. Under the
well-bred stare, the red-faced man wilted visibly and released Master
Clareville, who lost no time in seeking the shelter of Debenham's side. My Lord
glanced down at the curly head beside him, and his lips twitched slightly.
However, there was no trace of laughter in the cultured voice as he addressed
his most prominent interlocutor.

“My good Sir, perhaps
you will be kind enough to explain your reason, no doubt excellent, for
manhandling my ward,” he said.

Somewhat awed by
the Earl's hauteur, the red-faced individual identified himself as Mr Badger
and, further, begged leave to introduce to his Lordship's notice Mrs Badger, a
thin-faced woman, who regarded Debenham with deepest distrust. She was holding
by the arm a remarkably pretty girl of about sixteen who was looking decidedly
sulky.

The Earl raised
his eyebrows questioningly to Kit, who shook his dusky curls violently. “Have the
goodness to elucidate this mystery, Mr Badger,” adjured Debenham, seating
himself.

Badger puffed
out his chest, much gratified by the Earl's politeness, and began in a
mollified tone: “Well, I don't say as how it's any of your blame, your Honour, but
I catched that young cub a kissing o' my Mary here, and what I says is, what's he
a going to do about it? She's been brought up respectable, has my Mary, and you
can't say no different. What's more,” continued Badger, warming to his theme, “you
needn't think as just because you're quality you can go around ravishing
innocent maidens without their fathers having something to say about it!”

“My dear, Sir,
acquit me of any desire to seduce your daughter, I beg,” returned Debenham
haughtily. Badger appeared at a loss in face of this unexpected reply, but not
so Mrs Badger, which redoubtable female bustled forward shaking her fist under
my Lord's well-bred nose.

“It's that young
varmint of yours as did it!” she screeched up at him. “And he's going to pay
for it!”

“Really, Ma'am?
I congratulate you, Kit, to have made such a conquest in so short a time, and
at your tender age, too
—
really, quite remarkable!”