"So I understand, my lord. Lady O'Moy, realising her brother's grave danger, is very deeply troubled."
"Naturally," he agreed. "But what can I do, Miss Armytage?
What were the actual facts, do you happen to know?"
She recited them, putting the case bravely for the scapegrace Mr.
Butler, dwelling particularly upon the error under which he was labouring, that he had imagined himself to be knocking at the gates of a monastery of Dominican friars, that he had broken into the convent because denied admittance, and because he suspected some treacherous reason for that denial.
He heard her out, watching her with those keen eyes of his the while.
"Hum! You make out so good a case for him that one might almost believe you instructed by the gentleman himself. Yet I gather that nothing has since been heard of him?"
"Nothing, sir, since he vanished from Tavora, nearly, two months ago.
And I have only repeated to your lordship the tale that was told by the sergeant and the troopers who reported the matter to Sir Robert Craufurd on their return."
He was very thoughtful. Leaning on the balustrade, he looked out across the sunlit valley, turning his boldly chiselled profile to his companion. At last he spoke slowly, reflectively: "But if this were really so - a mere blunder - I see no sufficient grounds to threaten him with capital punishment. His subsequent desertion, if he has deserted - I mean if nothing has happened to him - is really the graver matter of the two."
"I gathered, sir, that he was to be sacrificed to the Council of Regency - a sort of scapegoat."
He swung round sharply, and the sudden blaze of his eyes almost terrified her. Instantly he was cold again and inscrutable. "Ah!
You are oddly well informed throughout. But of course you would be," he added, with an appraising look into that intelligent face in which he now caught a faint likeness of Jack Armytage. "Well, well, my dear, I am very glad you have told me of this. If Mr.
Butler is ever taken and in danger - there will be a court-martial, of course - send me word of it, and I will see what I can do, both for your sake and for the sake of strict justice."
"Oh, not for my sake," she protested, reddening slightly at the gentle imputation. "Mr. Butler is nothing to me - that is to say, he is just my cousin. It is for Una's sake that I am asking this."
"Why, then, for Lady O'Moy's sake, since you ask it," he replied readily. "But," he warned her, "say nothing of it until Mr. Butler is found." It is possible he believed that Butler never would be found. "And remember, I promise only to give the matter my attention. If it is as you represent it, I think you may be sure that the worst that will befall Mr. Butler will be dismissal from the service. He deserves that. But I hope I should be the last man to permit a British officer to be used as a scapegoat or a burnt-offering to the mob or to any Council of Regency. By the way, who told you this about a scapegoat?"
"Captain Tremayne."
"Captain Tremayne? Oh, the man who killed Samoval?"
"He didn't," she cried.
On that almost fierce denial his lordship looked at her, raising his eyebrows in astonishment.
"But I am told that he did, and he is under arrest for it this moment - for that, and for breaking my order against duelling."
"You were not told the truth, my lord. Captain Tremayne says that he didn't, and if he says so it is so."
"Oh, of course, Miss Armytage!" He was a man of unparalleled valour and boldness, yet so fierce was she in that moment that for the life of him he dared not have contradicted her.
"Captain Tremayne is the most honourable man I know," she continued, "and if he had killed Samoval he would never have denied it; he would have proclaimed it to all the world."
"There is no need for all this heat, my dear," he reassured her.
"The point is not one that can remain in doubt. The seconds of the duel will be forthcoming; and they will tell us who were the principals."
"There were no seconds," she informed him.
"No seconds!" he cried in horror. "D' ye mean they just fought a rough and tumble fight?"
"I mean they never fought at all. As for this tale of a duel, I ask your lordship: Had Captain Tremayne desired a secret meeting with Count Samoval, would he have chosen this of all places in which to hold it?"
"This?"
"This. The fight - whoever fought it - took place in the quadrangle there at midnight."
He was overcome with astonishment, and he showed it.
"Upon my soul," he said, "I do not appear to have been told any of the facts. Strange that O'Moy should never have mentioned that," he muttered, and then inquired suddenly: "Where was Tremayne arrested?"
"Here," she informed him.
"Here? He was here, then, at midnight? What was he doing here?"
"I don't know. But whatever he was doing, can your lordship believe that he would have come here to fight a secret duel?"
"It certainly puts a monstrous strain upon belief," said he. "But what can he have been doing here?"
"I don't know," she repeated. She wanted to add a warning of O'Moy.
She was tempted to tell his lordship of the odd words that O'Moy had used to her last night concerning Tremayne. But she hesitated, and her courage failed her. Lord Wellington was so great a man, bearing the destinies of nations on his shoulders, and already he had wasted upon her so much of the time that belonged to the world and history, that she feared to trespass further; and whilst she hesitated came Colquhoun Grant clanking across the quadrangle looking for his lordship. He had come up, he announced, standing straight and stiff before them, to see O'Moy, but hearing of Lord Wellington's presence, had preferred to see his lordship in the first instance.
"And indeed you arrive very opportunely, Grant," his lordship confessed.
He turned to take his leave of Jack Armytage's niece.
"I'll not forget either Mr. Butler or Captain Tremayne," he promised her, and his stern face softened into a gentle, friendly smile.
"They are very fortunate in their champion."
