Her ladyship laughed. ‘Why, what else should a man of spirit do, pray, when you was flirting so scandalously with that boy out of the nursery? Silly puss! The affair is going on famously. Sheringham scarcely took his eyes off you the whole time he was in the Rooms!’
Hero’s lips trembled. ‘He left while we were having tea. I thought – I wondered if perhaps he would come up to me after tea, and make me dance with him, but – but –’
‘I dare say! And carry you off willy-nilly, perhaps? At a Bath Assembly! Unheard of!’
Hero smiled faintly. ‘I don’t think he would care for that. It would be just the sort of thing Sherry would do, if he wanted to. Only he didn’t want to. If – if he should come here thismorning, ma’am, would you perhaps be so very obliging as to see him, and – and discover, if you are able, what his sentiments truly are?’
‘Make yourself easy, my love: I will see him,’ promised Lady Saltash.
But her ladyship was not called upon to see him. He did not come to Camden Place that morning, for Mr Ringwood had arrived in Bath by the night-mail.
The mail-coach having run punctually, he was set down at the White Hart a few minutes after ten o’clock, and found Lord Wrotham breakfasting. He joined him at this meal, as soon as he had shaved, and changed his travelling-dress; and listened in stolid silence to the slightly disjointed account his lordship gave him of the imbroglio which seemed hourly to be growing more complicated. A considerable part of George’s recital was naturally concerned with the behaviour of the Incomparable, but Mr Ringwood paid little heed to this. When he had heard George out, he grunted, and said: ‘Pack of gudgeons!’
‘Who?’ demanded George.
‘You, and Sherry, and Ferdy,’ replied Mr Ringwood. ‘Dashed if I don’t think Ferdy’s the worst of you! Take a look at that!’
He handed over Mr Fakenham’s letter to him, which George perused in gathering amazement. ‘Bosky, I dare say,’ he remarked. ‘Who’s this fellow he believes to be at the bottom of Sherry’s coming to Bath? That’s all a hum! I don’t know why he came, but there wasn’t any plot about it. And how the devil does Duke come into it?’
‘Lord, I don’t know!’ said Mr Ringwood scornfully. ‘You don’t suppose I wasted my time asking him for the name of a fellow I’m not interested in, do you?’
‘No, but I’d give something to know why Ferdy thinks someone is behind it all,’ said George, pondering the problem. ‘Hasn’t said a word to me about it. Couldn’t be Revesby, couldit? Don’t see how Ferdy came to forget his name, if it was. I’ll ask him.’
‘You may do as you please: I’m going off to see Sherry,’ said Mr Ringwood. ‘Where is he lodging?’
‘In the Royal Crescent. He’s in the devil’s own temper, I warn you, Gil!’
‘There ain’t the least need to warn me,’ said Mr Ringwood. ‘If you haven’t been able in five years to call me out, it ain’t likely Sherry will!’
He then pulled on his Hessians, which his man had lovingly treated with Spanish Blue King Polish, shrugged himself into his greatcoat, tucked a malacca cane under his arm, and set off for the Royal Crescent.
He found Sherry just about to leave the house, to pay a morning call in Camden Place but at sight of him Sherry abandoned this immediate intention, and pounced on him with something of the growl of an infuriated tiger.
‘The very man above all others I wish to see!’ Sherry said menacingly. ‘You have the devil of a lot of explaining to do, let me tell you! Come upstairs!’
‘I’m going to,’ replied Mr Ringwood. ‘But as for explaining, seems to me you have some of that to do!’
‘I like your curst impudence!’ gasped Sherry. ‘What in hades have I to explain?’
‘Well, you may begin by explaining what the deuce brought you to Bath,’ said Mr Ringwood, following him up to the parlour. ‘If Lady Sheringham is at home –’
‘She ain’t,’ interrupted Sherry. ‘Gone off to see some curst doctor or other. And the Incomparable set out for Wells a couple of hours ago, so you needn’t fear you’ll be obliged to do the civil to either of ’em!’ He flung open the parlour door and ushered his friend into the room. ‘Now, then, Gil! A pretty way you have dealt with me all these weeks! What in thunderpossessed you to hide my wife from me, and bam me into thinking you knew no more than I did where she was? By God, if I were not so well acquainted with you, I might have a very fair notion of what your intentions were towards her, so I might!’
‘You’d have to be uncommonly disguised to fancy I should take your wife to live with my grandmother if I’d any dishonourable intentions!’ retorted Mr Ringwood.
‘There is that, of course!’ Sherry admitted. ‘All the same, Gil, I don’t understand what game you are playing; and when I think of your gammoning me when you knew I was half out of my mind with anxiety over Kitten –’
‘Point is, I didn’t know it,’ said Mr Ringwood. ‘Come to think of it, I still don’t know it.’
Sherry stared at him. ‘Are you mad?’ he demanded. ‘What kind of a fellow do you take me for, in God’s name? My wife leaves me, and you don’t know whether I’m anxious?’
‘Thought you would have been glad to know she was in good hands,’ said Mr Ringwood painstakingly, ‘but didn’t know whether you cared much that she wasn’t living with you any more.’
‘Not care!’ Sherry exclaimed. ‘She’smy wife!’
Mr Ringwood polished his quizzing-glass, paying the greatest attention to the operation. ‘Going to be frank with you, Sherry,’ he said.
‘By God, I shall be glad of it!’
