“Well, well. Our sagecanthink! If only for a short distance. Mayhap you can take us the rest of the way, Rossiter.”
Gideon stood and went over to pick up the decanter. “In confidence, a little way, perhaps.”
“Make an earnest effort to follow this, dear dolt,” said Falcon.
“I’d like to followhim,” said Morris,sotto voce,as Rossiter crossed the room to rather clumsily refill his glass. “Closely. With a lance in my hand!” Falcon glanced over at him suspiciously, and he added, “Tell us first, Ross. Which of them is this all-powerful Squire? Derrydene, or Collington?”
“I think neither. Those louts at the millknewCollington, and one of them told Naomi no one has ever seen the Squire. Also, Camber, Naomi’s groom, was with the ruffians who searched Promontory Point and beat Tummet; and we know that Camber called at Derrydene’s house. For which piece of bungling Collington appeared to think Derrydene would be punished; presumably by the Squire.”
Morris groaned. “You mean there are more of the swine lurking about?”
“Two or three at the least,” put in Falcon. “You agree, Rossiter?”
Gideon nodded. “When Naomi overheard the pair who plotted in the Dowling ante room, they spoke of everyone being different. She thought they referred to the differences in people. To my mind, they spoke of the icons, and meant noteveryone,but thatevery oneofthoseobjects is different.”
“Aye. And if you recollect,” Falcon put in, “they also said they couldn’t have a meeting because ‘six’ was lost. So the figures are very likely numbered.”
“Very likely,” agreed Gideon. “And each member of their little club, or whatever it is, has a number of his own and an icon for—identification, mayhap.”
“Stap me!” exclaimed Morris. “Six of the villains? All that planning and organization to ruin your father?”
“As a first step,” said Gideon thoughtfully.
Falcon and Morris exchanged startled glances. Falcon echoed, “Firststep? You think they plan more mischief?”
“I think ’twas indeed a conspiracy ’gainst my father. But when Collington had me trapped in the mill and thought I was as good as dead and could not repeat what I knew, he told me there was more to it. Besides, if you remember, the soiree plotters said that all their lives were at stake.” Gideon put down the decanter, and stood staring at it. “I know of only two crimes by which the life of a nobleman could be placed at risk.”
Morris said in awe, “Murder. Or—treason! Oh egad!”
Leaning forward, Falcon asked intently, “Do you say you suspect a plot ’gainst England?”
“What sort of plot?” demanded Morris. “How is it connected with all this rascality?”
Gideon hesitated. “Would that I knew.”
“But youdosuspect,” said Falcon shrewdly. “Zounds! That would be a merry frolic! I wish I may see you try to convince the Horse Guards!”
After a brief pause, Morris said solemnly, “You’ll surely lose her if you do, Ross.”
“And fail his country if he don’t,” Falcon snapped, scowling at him.
“You cannot know that,” argued Morris.
Listening intently, Gideon said, “I think we’ve another caller.”
“The Earl of Collington, no doubt,” said Falcon. “Come to throw himself on your mercy.”
A yawning lackey, looking astonished and clutching a dressing gown about him, threw the door wide.
Two tattered, muddy, and shoeless scarecrows staggered into the room.
“Well, well,” drawled Falcon, surveying them through his glass. “A masquerade! How jolly.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Morris.
“Newby!” said Gideon.
***
