“Master Jack, think better of it, I beg of you! Now that my lord is dead———”
“It makes no difference.”
“No difference? ’Twas not for his sake? ’Twas not because you knew how he loved Master Dick?”
“No.”
“Then ’tis Lady Lavinia———”
“No.”
“But———”
My lord smiled sadly.
“Ah, Warburton! And you averred you knew us through and through! For whose sake should it be but his own?”
“I feared it!” The lawyer made a hopeless gesture with his hands. “You will not come back?”
“No, Warburton, I will not; Dick may manage my estates. I remain on the road.”
Warburton made one last effort.
“My lord!” he cried despairingly, “Will you not at least think of the disgrace to the name an you be caught?”
The shadows vanished from my lord’s eyes.
“Mr. Warburton, I protest you are of a morbid turn of mind! Do you know, I had not thought of so unpleasant a contingency? I swear I was not born to be hanged!”
The lawyer would have said more, had not the entrance of a servant, carrying a loaded tray, put an end to all private conversation. The man placed dishes upon the table, lighted candles, and arranged two chairs.
“Dinner is served, sir,” he said.
My lord nodded, and made a slight gesture toward the windows. Instantly the man went over to them and drew the heavy curtains across.
My lord turned to Mr. Warburton.
“What say you, sir? Shall it be burgundy or claret, or do you prefer sack?”
Warburton decided in favour of claret.
