Shaw's conquest of one member of the force opposing him
was scarcely the result of bravery; on the other hand Lord Cecil's
dash into the enemy's country was the very acme of intrepidity. Shaw
had victory fairly thrust upon him; Lord Bazelhurst had a thousand
obstacles to overcome before he could even so much as stand face to
face with the enemy. Hence the expedition that started off in the wake
of the deserter deserves more than passing mention.
Down the drive and out into the mountain road clattered the three
horsemen. Lady Bazelhurst, watching at the window casement, almost
swooned with amazement at the sight of them. The capes of their
mackintoshes seemed to flaunt a satirical farewell in her face; their
owners, following the light of the carriage lamps, swept from view
around a bend in the road.
His lordship had met the duke in the hall, some distance from that
nobleman's room, and, without observing Barminster's apparent
confusion, commanded him to join in the pursuit. Barminster explained
that he was going to see how the cook was resting; however, he would
go much farther to be of service to the runaway sister of his host.
"She's broken-hearted," half sobbed the brother.
"Yes," agreed the duke; "and what's a broken leg to a broken heart?
Penelope's heart, at that. Demme, I can't find the cook's room,
anyway."
"It's in the servants' wing," said Cecil, anxious to be off.
"To be sure. Stupid ass I am. I say, old chap, here's Deveaux's door.
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