‘I will do my poor best,’ promised Sir Richard.
The fugitive’s feet were only just above his reach, and inanother five seconds the fugitive descended into his arms with a rush that made him stagger, and almost lose his balance. He retained it by a miracle, clasping strongly to his chest an unexpectedly light body.
Sir Richard was not precisely sober, but although the brandy fumes had produced in his brain a not unpleasant sense of irresponsibility, they had by no means fuddled his intellect. Sir Richard, his chin tickled by curls, and his arms full of fugitive, made a surprising discovery. He set the fugitive down, saying in a matter-of-fact voice: ‘Yes, but I don’t think you are a youth, after all.’
‘No, I’m a girl,’ replied the fugitive, apparently undismayed by his discovery. ‘But, please, will you come away before they wake up?’
‘Who?’ asked Sir Richard.
‘My aunt – all of them!’ whispered the fugitive. ‘I am very much obliged to you for helping me – and do you think you could untie this knot, if you please? You see, I had to tie my bundle on my back, and now I can’t undo it. And where is my hat?’
‘It fell off,’ said Sir Richard, picking it up, and dusting it on his sleeve. ‘I am not quite sober, you know – in fact, I am drunk – but I cannot help feeling that this is all a trifle – shall we say – irregular?’
‘Yes, but there was nothing else to be done,’ explained the fugitive, trying to look over her own shoulder at what Sir Richard was doing with the recalcitrant knot.
‘Oblige me by standing still!’ requested Sir Richard.
‘Oh, I am sorry! I can’t think how it worked right round me like that. Thank you! I am truly grateful to you!’
Sir Richard was eyeing the bundle through his quizzing-glass. ‘Areyou a burglar?’ he enquired.
A chuckle, hastily choked, greeted this. ‘No, of course I’m not. I couldn’t manage a bandbox, so I had to tie all my things up in a shawl. And now I think I must be going, if you please.’
‘Drunk I undoubtedly am,’ said Sir Richard, ‘but someremnants of sanity still remain with me. You cannot, my good child, wander about the streets of London at this hour of night, and dressed in those clothes. I believe I ought to ring that bell, and hand you over to your – aunt, did you say?’
Two agitated hands clasped his arm. ‘Oh,don’t!’ begged the fugitive. ‘Pleasedon’t!’
‘Well, what am I to do with you?’ asked Sir Richard.
‘Nothing. Only tell me the way to Holborn!’
‘Why Holborn?’
‘I have to go to the White Horse Inn, to catch the stagecoach for Bristol.’
‘That settles it,’ said Sir Richard. ‘I will not set you a foot on your way until I have the whole story from you. It’s my belief you are a dangerous criminal.’
‘I am not!’ said the fugitive indignantly. ‘Anyone with the veriest speck of sensibility would feel for my plight! I am escaping from the most odious persecution.’
‘Fortunate child!’ said Sir Richard, taking her bundle from her. ‘I wish I might do the same. Let us remove from this neighbourhood. I have seldom seen a street that depressed me more. I can’t think how I came here. Do you feel that our agreeable encounter would be improved by an exchange of names, or are you travelling incognita?’
‘Yes, I shall have to make up a name for myself. I hadn’t thought of that. My real name is Penelope Creed. Who are you?’
‘I,’ said Sir Richard, ‘am Richard Wyndham, wholly at your service.’
‘Beau Wyndham?’ asked Miss Creed knowledgeably.
‘Beau Wyndham,’ bowed Sir Richard. ‘Is it possible that we can have met before?’
‘Oh no, but of course I have heard of you. My cousin tries to tie his cravat in a Wyndham Fall. At least, that is what he says it is, but it looks like a muddle to me.’
‘Then it isnota Wyndham Fall,’ said Sir Richard firmly.
‘No, that’s what I thought. My cousin tries to be a dandy, but he has a face like a fish. They want me to marry him.’
‘What a horrible thought!’ said Sir Richard, shuddering.
‘I told you you would feel for my plight!’ said Miss Creed. ‘So would you now set me on my way to Holborn?’
