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Updated: June 15, 2025
The knock seemed to have come from spectral hands, for 'twas followed by no further sound. Then again the knock. Lambert went to the door and opened it. "Be the quality here?" queried a timid voice. "Squire Boatfield is here and Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse," replied Lambert, "what is it, Mat? Come in."
With an affected cry of surprise and pleasure she welcomed Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse, who was standing on the threshold, prepared to enter and escorted by his young secretary, Master Richard Lambert. One or two of the men looked up as de Chavasse entered, but no one took much notice of him.
Then she heard that towards the end of the week Sir Marmaduke and Mistress de Chavasse would be journeying together to Canterbury in order to confer with Master Skyffington the lawyer, anent her own fortune, which was to be handed to her in its entirety in less than three months, when she would be of age.
Poverty grinding, unceasing, uninteresting poverty, had been Sir Marmaduke's relentless tormentor ever since he had reached man's estate. His father, Sir Jeremy de Chavasse, had been poor before him.
De Chavasse, on the other hand, had become singularly calm. The black shade as usual hid one of his eyes, masking and distorting the expression of his face; the false mustache, too, concealed the movements of his lips, and the more his opponent's eyes tried to search the schemer's face, the more inscrutable and bland did the latter become.
"I hope, Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse," here interposed Endicott with much pompous dignity, "that your ... hem ... your young friend doth not desire to bring insinuations doubts, mayhap, against the honor of my house ... or of my friends!"
Mistress de Chavasse knew full well that the Endicotts did not intend to quarrel with her, and having threatened rupture unless her commands were obeyed, she had no wish to argue the matter further with her henchwoman. At that moment, too, there came the sound of significant and methodical rappings at the door.
Adam Lambert drew a chair close to his whilom enemy, sat down opposite to him, with elbows resting on his knee, his clenched fists supporting his chin, and his eyes anxious, eager, glowing, fixed resolutely on de Chavasse. "I'll hold my tongue, never fear," he said curtly. "Show me the proofs." Sir Marmaduke gave a pleasant little laugh.
"Absolutely," he replied, his thoughts reverting to a day spent at Dover nearly three months ago, when a knot was tied of which fair Editha was not aware, but which rendered Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse very sure of a fortune. "Yet you have oft told me that Sue's love for her mysterious prince had vastly cooled of late!" urged Editha still anxiously.
In an instant, stricken at first dumb with surprise and horror, but quickly recovering the power of speech, Adam Lambert murmured: "You? ... You? ... Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse! ... Oh! my God! ..." His grip on his enemy had, of course, relaxed. Sir Marmaduke was able to struggle to his feet. Fate had dealt him a blow as unexpected as it was violent.
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