CHAPTER XXI

THE END OF JOHN DENT

Dick slept very heavily that night. He woke once, and found Giles bending over him, smiled comfortably, and fell asleep again; and the very next minute, as it seemed to him, Giles was shaking him by the shoulder, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and his friend impatient.

"Wake up, you dog in a blanket!" Giles cried. "If you don't wake up, I swear I'll go without you."

"Giles!" Dick cried, as if he had never seen him the night before, and he was out of bed in a second. Giles was dressed already, and Dick's toilet was scrambled through, with frequent breaks for bursts of confidence and conversation. At last he was complete--collar and sash, and decorously combed-out curls--in his rose-coloured silk and his riding-boots. Giles lounged up and stood beside him, in silk of the same colour and a collar of superb point-lace.

"Who told you to wear that colour?" he demanded.

"My Cousin Dorothy gave it me--this suit--to wear on her birthday," Dick explained. "'Rose-colour suits your dark man', she said." And he gave a comical little glance at himself in the mirror. "'Tis her favourite colour, moreover, and a gay, pretty hue, I think."

Giles walked to the window and looked out.

"And you wear the same," said Dick, following. "Why, we might be brothers, Giles."

Giles bowed. "You flatter me, sir! Or is it only with my clothes you'd be akin?"

"I wish we were brothers, Giles," said Dick, sighing. "I have no one of my own, not even Cousin Dorothy now, since His Majesty saith we are not truly related. Wait a moment, Giles; I haven't said my prayers yet. Have you?"

"Long since," said Giles; but he waited for Dick with a good-humoured smile.

"You can have me for as much your own as you like," he observed, as Dick rose from his knees.

"But you're such a very--splendid person now, Giles," said Dick, rather shyly. "And, Giles, I remember they called you a lord last night. Were you a lord when we were at Dent?"

"No, a simple gentleman like yourself, by chance serving as stableman, as by chance Sir Richard Chester served as boy at the inn."

"What is your name then, Giles?"

"Lumley--the Earl of Lumley, at your service." He drew himself up and saluted. Then he cried: "Beshrew me, Dick, I'd forgotten!" He hunted amongst his things, and in a minute said: "Here, Dick, in exchange for the dagger you gave me."

He laid in the boy's hands a little rapier, a perfect miniature of a man's, with hilts of steel inlaid with silver, in a dainty sheath of blue velvet, hung with little silver chains to an embroidered baldric. Dick's eyes danced, his cheeks flushed, and embracing the gift with one arm he embraced the giver with the other. Then he drew the sword, and Giles told him it had been given to him years ago, that it was made in Toledo, and that the Spanish words on its shining surface might be translated as--"A trusty blade for a trusty blade". "Which last is Richard Chester," he observed.

They then started down to find breakfast; and Dick, dashing on before, dashed back again to say, with a rapturous sniff: "Come on, Giles, 'tis trout!"

It was trout, and more ham-and-eggs, and strawberries and new milk for Dick. Giles, it seemed, preferred chocolate, "like my Cousin Dorothy," said Dick; and Giles, setting down the dish, said: "If you drink any more milk 'twill go to your head, Dick. Come, sirrah! Enough! Time flies!"

"But I haven't half-finished the pitcher," Dick grumbled.

"Pest!" said Giles impatiently. "'Twill churn as you ride, Dick. My faith! but those strawberries are fine! 'Tis scarce six yet." Laughing, he sat down and fell to on the fruit.

Then they must call the landlady, and Dick must needs embrace her.

"Was ever a lad so fond of kissing!" Giles observed.

"And you found your friend, my pretty sir?" asked the landlady, beaming upon them.

"Ay," answered Dick, laughing and blushing hotly. "And, would you believe it, 'twas the King!"

The landlady lifted her hands in amazement.

"Eh!" she cried, as Dick proceeded to tell his adventures, "but my Lionel will have trouble for this."

"No," put in Giles reassuringly. "My Lord Newcastle will not have a word to say. And if your Lionel loses his place ever, send him to me, mistress. But no heads will fall for Sir Richard Chester. He shakes his Sovereign by the hand--"

"Giles, I didn't know," interrupted Dick.

"'Tis all one to him," Giles proceeded. "He knows he's bound to be every man's favourite, and every lady's also, it seems," and he smiled at the landlady.

Then he paid her bill several times over, with a trifle also for Susan, did she ever care to set up house-keeping, as, from something Sir Richard had said, seemed likely. Dick laughed, and the landlady bobbed curtsies and blessed his lordship's good heart.

"And won't the young gentleman tell us his name?" she asked; "that we may remember him always."

She looked at Dick, who thought she meant his generous companion.

"This is Gi--the Earl of Lumley," he said. She curtsied again.

"I recognized my lord," she said. "'Twas yourself, I meant, sir."

"This is Sir Richard Chester," said Giles, as he turned Dick to the door, since he seemed unable to tear himself away. "He held a castle for His Majesty last year--"

"'Twas you, Giles!" Dick interrupted.

"For a week," Giles continued calmly. "And then he was lost, and we find him again now, facing a great danger for a lady's sake."

"There was no danger, really," Dick said, with a flush of pride and pleasure.

"You thought there was, which, I take it, amounts to the same thing."

The landlady did not quite understand this speech, but as they stood together she thought they made a very pretty picture, so she held up her hands again, and said: "Bless us and save us, now, just to look at that!"

Outside, Dick found Fairy; and as the pony whinnied to him, and rubbed its nose against his shoulder, the boy's conscience pricked him.

"Oh, Giles," he said, wringing his hands, "I'm forgetting Cousin Dorothy! She'll be wondering, and--and--can't we start?"

"Don't do that!" said Giles hurriedly, catching his hands and drawing them apart. "Here! we're all ready! Get up!"

He held Dick's stirrup, and then swung himself into his own saddle. As they rode out of the yard, followed by the earl's servants, he laid his hand suddenly on the boy's.

"Did they murder you often at that inn, Dickie?" he asked, in a voice that made Dick start.

"Yes--I mean--no, Giles! Do you care?"

Giles nodded.

"Then they didn't," said Dick firmly. "And if they did, I don't care now--I don't care,--not a rush!"

"Well," said Giles grimly, "you used to work your hands so when they did it; and if we pass the miserable pig-sty I'm going to break the man's neck."

Dick laughed rather unsteadily.

"No, Giles, don't let us stay. And I'm sorry I annoyed you. Cousin Dorothy can't bear me to do it. I didn't know. I forgot."

Giles, smiling, suggested that the Lady Dorothy Byng would be wringing her hands all this time over Dick, may be. Her name loosened Dick's tongue, and he began to talk of her, and her goodness and beauty, and all she had done for him even before she had given that terrible promise, and to save his life had given her word to marry John Dent.

"John Dent!" said Giles, frowning. And his horse reared, as if the bridle had been jerked suddenly, as indeed it had.

"And how do you account for all this kindness being lavished upon you, sir?" he asked, "seeing, as His Majesty saith, you are not related."

Dick looked at his friend with a shade of regret or apology.

"I didn't know it was you behind His Majesty's chair last night, Giles, or I need not have whispered. But I thought 'twas her story, and I--"

"Don't tell me her story, if you know it," Giles interrupted. "But, in one word, Dick, how would you account for it to the world?"

"'Tis her way to be good to everyone," Dick answered thoughtfully. "And methinks she loves me--nay, I know she doth. But mainly, I think, 'tis because of my brother, who is dead."

"A brother, who is dead?" Giles questioned.

"Yes," said Dick. "But--but she knew him, and she hath never forgotten him, Giles."

They rode on, and though Giles was silent he listened to Dick's talk, still of his Cousin Dorothy, and of his life with her, and of Philip, and Bridget, and Lorry, and everything else. They passed the Seven Thorns without Giles noticing it. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where road and sky were meeting. Dick was glad he did not stay, for he was in haste to be home now. Who knew what might be happening? Things might have occurred since Captain Harland reported all well hours ago. When they reached the brow of the hill Giles struck in his spurs, and his horse bounded forward. Dick's pony put out all its strength and stretched its diminutive legs, but it was quite useless; in spite of Dick's admonitions the bay shot ahead in a few minutes, and Giles vanished round the first bend of the lane.

"It's too bad!" Dick cried. "He'll be there first. His horse might want to see her as badly as I do. Get up, Fairy! Go on!"

Fairy did his best, and he was panting and foaming when, where the lane broadened out before the gates, they came upon Giles talking from his saddle to Slingsby on foot.

"Just as well, maybe," Giles was saying as they cantered up. "John Dent arrived before his time, Dick; and before his time has gone to his account."

"Is he dead?" Dick gasped.

"Yes," said Giles. "Hold my reins, Dick, will you? I'll see him, Slingsby." Dismounting, he strode away with his officer, climbed the steep bank, and disappeared.

Dick sat still, holding the reins, whilst the horses drooped their heads and lashed at the flies with their tails. Giles was soon back. He sprang down into the lane lightly with a pleasant jingle of spurs and chains and scabbard.

"There was a skirmish, Dick, which we've missed," he said. "They took one of his troopers, who says Dent had spies here, who saw you ride off yesterday. He turned up at dawn, and Slingsby caught him in the fields over yonder. He was killed the first of the lot. The--the household down there seem to have heard, or seen, nothing."

"Oh, Giles, what a good thing you sent a troop overnight! But I'm sorry we missed the fighting," said Dick.

Giles stood thoughtfully twisting his moustache.

"But have we done all His Majesty directed, Dick?" he said at length. "His friends have fled--they were not numerous. He is dead; we cannot, therefore, send him to trial."

"Is there a clergyman there? We were to look after him, Giles, as His Majesty particularly mentioned. You were to find him something to do, weren't you? What? My cousin once said she would try and find a parson as tutor for me. Giles, dear, send him away, quickly! She might keep him for that, if not."

Giles laughed a little.

"Come along," he said absently, taking his bridle over his arm and moving slowly towards the gate. But he stopped when they reached the door of the house. "My part in the game's played, Dick. Go you in and tell all the news to her Ladyship. Ask her hospitality for Slingsby and his men. I'll wait here."

"You'll not!" said Dick. "You'll come in, Giles, and help tell her."

Giles shook his head gently.

"Go you in, Dickie, and tell her your tale--'tis your tale, and I want her to hear what her waif has done for her, from himself. Believe me, she'll like it better so. And if you've a mind to please me, Dick, you will say nothing of the Earl of Lumley; but you may tell her that Giles was sent to help you--you, mind,--and that this same Giles, stable-helper and what-not, awaits her Ladyship's permission to enter."

"A rare jest!" said Dick, laughing. "She will call me a little blockhead ever to have thought you a stableman when she sees you."

"Maybe," said Giles curtly.