The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX. No. 997, February 4, 1899

Roy forgot everything except the affair on hand. He dashed upstairs and into the salon at a headlong pace, knocking over a chair as he entered. It fell with a crash, and Roy stopped short. Denham was on the sofa, no one else being present except Lucille, who, with her bonnet on, as if she were going out, had just taken an empty cup from his hand.

“Roy, you unkind boy,” she said, turning with a look of positive anger. “How you can do it!”

“O I’m sorry. I didn’t remember. Isn’t Den better?”

“Not remember! But you ought to remember. So without thought. It is selfishness.”

For Lucille to be seriously displeased with Roy was an event so new in his experience, that Roy gazed with astonished eyes.

“No matter,” interposed Denham. “Had a good time, Roy?”

“I’ve seen lots of people. Den, I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean----”

“No, of course not. It’s all right.”

“Where is my father?” Roy asked in a subdued voice.

“Gone out--but ten minutes since,” said Lucille. “General Cunningham sent to see him on business. And Colonel Baron has to go with him somewhere, and cannot return soon. So dinner is put off till six.”

“And mamma?”

“Mrs. Baron had a call to pay in the same direction. Captain Ivor thought he might get half-an-hour’s sleep. Roy, be good, I entreat. Do not fidget, and knock over chairs, and talk, talk, talk, without ending.”

Roy nodded, and Lucille moved towards the door, adding, as she went, “I also have to see someone, but I shall be back soon.”

Roy sat down in a favourite attitude, facing the back of a chair, and wondering what to do next. Would it be right to tell Denham what had happened? Would it be wrong to put off telling? Curtis had enjoined him to speak at once; but Curtis had not known the posture of affairs. The matter might be of consequence, or it might not. Roy was disquieted, but not seriously uneasy; and he hesitated to worry Denham without cause.

“Seen anybody?” asked Ivor.

“Yes; numbers.”

Then a break.

“Found Curtis?”

“Yes. And Carey too. Would you like to hear all about it?”

“By-and-by, I think. It will keep.”

Silence again, and Roy debated afresh. What if his action should mean bringing Curtis into trouble? That thought had considerable weight.

Three times he formed with his lips the preliminary “I say, Den!” and three times he refrained. The third time some slight sound escaped him, for Denham asked drowsily, “Anything you want?”

“Lucille told me not to talk. Does it matter?”

Ivor did not protest, as Roy had half hoped. He was evidently dropping off, and Roy decided that a short delay was unavoidable. He took up a volume that lay near; and, being no longer a book-hater, he became absorbed in its contents. General Wirion, chips of wood, the Imperial nose, and irate landladies, faded out of his mind. The matter was no doubt a pity, but after all it meant only--so Roy supposed--a pull upon his father’s purse. Boys are apt to look upon parental purses as unlimited in depth.

Denham was sound asleep, and Roy kept as motionless as any girl; not that girls are always quiet. An hour passed; another half-hour; and he began to grow restless. Might it be possible to slip away?

Gruff voices and heavy trampling feet, in the hall below, broke into the stillness, and Denham woke up. “This is lazy work,” he said wearily. “Roy--here yet! What time is it?”

“Nearly five. Dinner isn’t till six. Head any better?”

“Yes. I’m wretched company for you to-day. Different to-morrow, I hope.”

“You can’t help it. You’ve just got to get rested--that’s all. I say, what a noise they are making downstairs. Frenchmen do kick up such a rumpus about everything.”

The door opened hurriedly, and Lucille came in, wearing still her bonnet, as if just returned from a walk.

“I am so sorry,” she said. “I do not know what it means, but I must tell. I have no choice. O it surely must be a mistake, it cannot be truly----”

Lucille startled herself no less than her listeners by a sharp sob. She caught Roy’s arm with both hands, holding him fast. “Roy--Roy--what is it that you have done? O what have you done?” she cried.

“Is it that bosh about the cast? O I know. They want to be paid, I suppose. Lucille, Den has been asleep, and I’ve been as quiet as anything--and then for you to come in like this! Den, you just keep still, and I’ll go and speak to them. I’ll settle it all. I know my father will pay.”

“No, no, no--stay--you must not go,” panted Lucille. “Stay--it is the gendarmes! And they come to arrest you--to take you away!”

The word “gendarmes” acted as an electric shock, bringing Denham to his feet in a moment.

“What is it all about? I do not understand.” He touched Roy on the shoulder, with an imperative--“Tell me.”

“It was only--I’d have told you before, only I didn’t like to bother you. It was at Curtis’. There was a bust of Boney on the mantelshelf, and I just shied bits of wood at it, in fun. And I said ‘_À bas Napoléon_,’ or something of that sort; and then I threw a ball, and the idiotic thing tumbled down and broke into pieces. And the landlady--she’s a regular out-and-out virago--happened that very moment to come in, and she saw and heard. And she vowed she would tell of it. Curtis tried to explain things away, and I offered to pay, but she wouldn’t listen. She went on shrieking at us, and said it was an insult to the Emperor, and Wirion should know of it. She’s a Bonapartist--worse luck! Curtis made me hurry off, and said I was to tell my father at once. But he was out, and you--you know----” with a glance at Lucille, who wrung her hands, while Ivor said,

“Roy, were you utterly mad?”

“I--don’t know. Was it very stupid? Will it matter, do you think? I’m sorry about you--most. I thought they would wait till to-morrow; but I suppose they want me to go and pay directly. Is that it?” looking towards Lucille.

“No, no, no,” she answered, again wringing her hands. “It is to take--to take Roy--to the citadel!”