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He continued in a more collected manner, but his voice still shook with inexpressible scorn. "Angela," he said, turning to her, "is it within your knowledge that Blenavon had any acquaintance with this person?" I think that her face might well have answered him: very white it was, and very sorrowful. "Blenavon met Mrs. Smith-Lessing, I believe, at Bordighera," she said.
He will not remind you in the least of Lord Blenavon." "I should imagine not," she answered. Then there was a short silence, and I could see that she was crying under her veil. I laid my hand upon hers. "I am afraid," I said gently, "that I have misled you a little. You are worrying about me, and it isn't half so necessary as you imagine.
Now tell me the only persons who, to your knowledge, have entered the 'Brand' since you have been engaged in this work." I answered him at once. "Colonel Ray, Lady Angela Harberly, Lord Blenavon, the Prince of Malors, and a young lady called Blanche Moyat, the daughter of a farmer in Braster at whose house I used sometimes to visit." Lord Chelsford referred to some notes in his hand.
But the ways of the man were surely brutal to torture even vermin caught in the trap, and that woman, adventuress though she might be, had flinched before him in agony, as though her very nerves were being hacked out of her body. And Blenavon, too! Surely he might have remembered that he was her brother. He might have helped him to retain just a portion of his self-respect.
"Why, Angela," he exclaimed, "you look as though you had seen a ghost. Is anything the matter?" "Oh, I am afraid so," she answered. "Have you seen my father?" "Why?" he asked, fingering the note which Grooton had silently laid upon the table. "Something has happened!" she exclaimed. "I am sure of it. Last night he came to me before dinner. He told me that Blenavon was in trouble.
Ducaine," he asked, "what possible argument Colonel Ray could have made use of to induce my son to consent to this extraordinary proceeding?" "I know no more about the matter, your Grace," I answered. "Perhaps Lord Blenavon felt that his intimacy with Mrs. Smith-Lessing had compromised him that appearances were against him " "Pshaw!" the Duke interrupted.
"He should be," she remarked. "That is Prince Henri de Malors. He represents the hopes of the Royalists in France." "It is very interesting," I murmured. "May I ask is he an old family friend?" "Our families have been connected by marriage," she answered. "He and Blenavon saw a great deal of one another in Paris, very much to the disadvantage of my brother, I should think.
"This is the person, I believe," he said in a slow measured tone, "with whom my son, Lord Blenavon, was said to have been intimate?" "Lord Blenavon was certainly a constant visitor at Braster Grange," I answered. "You know her address in London?" the Duke asked. "Yes." He turned and faced me. He was certainly paler than he had been a few minutes ago.
"I know nothing whatever of these matters," I answered, "but from what I have seen of your father I should imagine that he is remarkably able to guard his own interests." Blenavon nodded. "I suppose that is true," he admitted. "But when he is already a rich man, with very simple tastes, I am rather surprised that he should care to meddle with such things."
You will prefer that I speak to you plainly. There are some fools at our end I mean at Paris who think they will be better off for a glance at the doings of your Military Board. Up to now we have kept them supplied with a little general information. Lord Blenavon, who is a remarkably sensible young man, lent us his assistance. I tell you this quite frankly. I believe that it is best."
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