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The old fox's den is more than comfortable, Mobray and I have a couple of rankers as servants, one of whom has more or less attached to him a woman who cooks well enough to make even the present ration eatable, and, lastly, though our presence may be something of a handicap, yet in such unsettled times one must tolerate the dogs if they but keep out the wolves.
If he were fit company for gentlemen we have him to dinner to-day, just to spoil his appetite with sight of our cates." "You do not like Why do you call Lord Clowes scoundrel?" asked Janice. Mobray shrugged his shoulders as he made answer: "On enough grounds and to boot. But 't is sufficient that he gave his parole to the rebels, and then broke it by escaping to our lines.
"I'll talk of this later," he said, after a pause, "when I can speak less warmly than now I feel. As for ye, sir," he said, facing Mobray, "I will endeavour the favour ye have done shall not be forgotten."
"'T is easily worth five hundred!" "Oh, never!" cried the girl. "Ay. Am I not right, Mobray?" "Beyond question. And then 't is not worth the portrait it encircles," asserted Mobray, gallantly. "And yet I could not get one pound for it," marvelled Janice, and told the two officers how she had sought to barter it.
Mobray sprang through a break in the abattis, but had not run ten feet when he turned and shouted back something which the thundering of the artillery prevented Brereton from entirely hearing, but the words he distinguished were sufficient to make him catch at the barrels for support, for they were: "Janice Meredith ... Yorktown ... point of death ... small-pox."
"I' faith," declared Sir Frederick Mobray, moved perhaps by twinges of the little green monster, "but for the lieutenant's word I'd take oath 't was a funeral we were to attend, and issue orders for the casing of colours and muffling of drums. In the name of good humour, Mr. Meredith, have in the spirits, and I'll brew a punch that shall liquidate the gloom."
A sharp prick he felt in his chest; but as in the quick thought of danger he realised his death moment, the weapon, instead of being driven home, was jerked back, and the soldier who had thrust with it cried: "Charlie!" "Fred!" exclaimed Jack, and the two men caught each other by the hand and stood still while the invaders poured past them over the barrels. It was Mobray who spoke first.
Mobray stooped and kissed a loose end of the handkerchief the girl held, and hurried from the room. As he was catching up his cloak and sabre in the hallway, the door of the office opened. "Come in here a moment, Sir Frederick," requested the commissary. "I have done as I promised, and that is all I can do at the moment," almost sobbed the young fellow.
Mobray made an impulsive movement as Clowes stooped and kissed the girl's hand, almost as if intending to strike the baron; but checking himself; he sarcastically remarked, with a frowning face: "If you enjoy the favour of his Lordship, Miss Meredith, you need not look further for help.
"'T is the one thing I concealed from my creditors," moaned Sir Frederick, "and now I leave it to you. Watch over and care for her for the sake of your love and of mine, Charlie." Brereton leaned down and kissed Mobray on the cheek, as he whispered, "I will." "Is is Miss Meredith here, Charlie?" asked the dying baronet. "Yes, Sir Frederick," replied Janice, with a choke.
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