The Black Moth Read online

  Salter went to the window.

  ‘They’ve gone in to the house, sir. No, here’s the spider gentleman! He do seem in a hurry, your honour!’

  ‘Ah!’ murmured his lordship. ‘You may assist me into this coat. Thanks.’

  With no little difficulty, my lord managed to enter into the fine satin garment, which, when on, seemed moulded to his back, so excellently did it fit. He shook out his ruffles and slipped the emerald ring on to his finger with a slight frown.

  ‘I believe I shall remain here some few days,’ he remarked presently. ‘To – ah – allay suspicion.’ He looked across at his man as he spoke, through his lashes.

  It was not in Jim’s nature to inquire into his master’s affairs, much less to be surprised at anything he might do or say. He was content to receive and promptly execute his orders, and to worship Carstares with a dog-like devotion, following blindly in his wake, happy as long as he might serve him.

  Carstares had found him in France, very down upon his luck, having been discharged from the service of his late master owing to the penniless condition of that gentleman’s pocket. He had engaged him as his own personal servant, and the man had remained with him ever since, proving an invaluable acquisition to my Lord John. Despite a singularly wooden countenance, he was by no means a fool, and he had helped Carstares out of more than one tight corner during his inglorious and foolhardy career as highwayman. He probably understood his somewhat erratic master better than anyone else, and he now divined what was in his mind. He returned that glance with a significant wink.

  ‘’Twas them gentlemen ye held up to-day sir!’ he asked, jerking an expressive thumb towards the window.

  ‘M’m. Mr Bumble Bee and friend. It would almost appear so. I think I do not fully appreciate Mr Bumble Bee. I find his conduct rather tiresome. But it is just possible that he thinks the same of me. I will further my acquaintance with him.’

  Jim grunted scornfully, and an inquiring eye was cocked at him.

  ‘You do not admire our friend? Pray, do not judge him by his exterior. He may possess a beautiful mind. But I do not think so. N-no, I really do not think so.’ He chuckled a little. ‘Do you know, Jim, I believe I am going to enjoy myself to-night!’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, your honour. ’Twere child’s play to trick the fat gentleman.’

  ‘Probably. But it is not with the fat gentleman that I shall have to deal. ’Tis with all the officials of this charming town, an I mistake not. Do I hear the small spider returning?’

  Salter stepped back to the window.

  ‘Ay, sir – with three others.’

  ‘Pre-cisely. Be so good as to hand me my snuff-box. And my cane. Thank you. I feel the time has now come for me to put in an appearance. Pray, bear in mind that I am new come from France and journey by easy stages to London. And cultivate a stupid expression. Yes, that will do excellently.’

  Jim grinned delightedly; he had assumed no expression of stupidity, and was consequently much pleased with this pleasantry. He swung open the door with an air, and watched ‘Sir Anthony’ mince along the passage to the stairs.

  In the coffee-room the city merchant, Mr Fudby by name, was relating the story of his wrongs, with many an impressive pause, and much emphasis, to the mayor, town-clerk, and beadle of Lewes. All three had been fetched by Mr Chilter, his clerk, in obedience to his orders, for the bigger the audience the better pleased was Mr Fudby. He was now enjoying himself quite considerably, despite the loss of his precious cash-box.

  So was not Mr Hedges, the mayor. He was a fussy little man who suffered from dyspepsia; he was not interested in the affair, and he did not see what was to be done for Mr Fudby. Further, he had been haled from his dinner, and he was hungry; and, above all, he found Mr Fudby very unattractive. Still, a highroad robbery was serious matter enough, and some course of action must be thought out; so he listened to the story with an assumption of interest, looking exceedingly wise, and, at the proper moments, uttering sounds betokening concern.

  The more he saw and heard of Mr Fudby, the less he liked him. Neither did the town-clerk care for him. There was that about Mr Fudby that did not endear him to his fellow-men, especially when they chanced to be his inferiors in the social scale. The beadle did not think much about anything. Having decided (and rightly) that the affair had nothing whatever to do with him, he leaned back in his chair and stared stolidly up at the ceiling.

  The tale Mr Fudby was telling bore surprisingly little resemblance to the truth. It was a much embellished version, in which he himself had behaved with quite remarkable gallantry. It had been gradually concocted during the journey to Lewes.

  He was still holding forth when my lord entered the room. Carstares raised his glass languidly to survey the assembled company, bowed slightly, and walked over to the fire. He seated himself in an armchair and took no further notice of anybody.

  Mr Hedges had recognised at a glance that here was some grand seigneur and wished that Mr Fudby would not speak in so loud a voice. But that individual, delighted at having a new auditor, continued his tale with much relish and in a still louder tone.

  My lord yawned delicately and took a pinch of snuff.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ fussed Mr Hedges. ‘But, short of sending to London for the Runners, I do not see what I can do. If I send to London, it must, of course, be at your expense, sir.’

  Mr Fudby bristled.

  ‘At my expense, sir? Do ye say at my expense? I am surprised! I repeat – I am surprised!’

  ‘Indeed, sir? I can order the town-crier out, describing the horse, and – er – offering a reward for the capture of any man on such animal. But –’ he shrugged and looked across at the town-clerk – ‘I do not imagine that ’twould be of much use – eh, Mr Brand?’

  The clerk pursed his lips and spread out his hands.

  ‘I fear not; I very much fear not. I would advise Mr Fudby to have a proclamation posted up round the country.’ He sat back with the air of one who has contributed his share to the work, and does not intend to offer any more help.

  ‘Ho!’ growled Mr Fudby. He blew out his cheeks. ‘’Twill be a grievous expense, though I suppose it must be done, and I cannot but feel that if it had not been for your deplorably cowardly conduct, Chilter – yes, cowardly conduct I say – I might never have been robbed of my two hundred!’ He snuffled a little, and eyed the flushed but silent Chilter with mingled reproach and scorn. ‘However, my coachman assures me he could swear to the horse again, although he cannot remember much about the man himself. Chilter! How did he describe the horse?’

  ‘Oh – er – chestnut, Mr Fudby – chestnut, with a half-moon of white on its forehead, and one white foreleg.’

  Jack perceived that it was time he took a hand in the game. He half turned in his chair and levelled his quizzing-glass at Mr Chilter.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ he drawled.

  Mr Fudby’s eyes brightened. The fine gentleman was roused to an expression of interest at last. He launched forth into his story once more for my lord’s benefit. Carstares eyed him coldly, seeing which, Mr Hedges came hurriedly to the rescue.

  ‘Er – yes, Mr Fudby – quite so! Your pardon, sir, I have not the honour of knowing your name?’

  ‘Ferndale,’ supplied Jack, ‘Sir Anthony Ferndale.’

  ‘Er – yes –’ Mr Hedges bowed. ‘Pray pardon my importuning you with our –’

  ‘Not at all,’ said my lord.

  ‘No – quite so – The fact is, these – er – gentlemen have had the – er – misfortune to be waylaid on their journey here.’

  Sir Anthony’s glass was again levelled at the group. His expression betokened mild surprise.

  ‘All these gentlemen?’ he inquired blandly. ‘Dear, dear!’

  ‘Oh, no, no, no, sir! Not all! Only Mr – er –’

  ‘Fudby,’ said that worthy, and discovered tha