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forgive a crime, but not an insult." Then, sending a hurried message
to her aunt, she paced on down the room, her head held high, the
damask roses still blooming brilliantly, the stars still shining
brightly.
A score of officious hands held her cloak, a dozen officious voices
called her chair. And my Lady Barbara thanked her helpers with smiling
lips that were still pomegranate red, and yet the curtains of her
chair caught her first sob as they descended about her, and it seemed
but a disheveled mass of draperies that the footmen discovered when
they set the lady down at her own door, so prone she was with grief
and despair.
XV.
Lord Farquhart seemed to recover himself but slowly from the shock of
Lady Barbara's denunciation, from the surprise of her whispered words.
At last he raised his eyes to Lord Grimsby, who was still looking at
him curiously.
"I fear that I should also ask your pardon, my Lord Grimsby, for this
confusion." Lord Farquhart's words came slowly. "My cousin, the Lady
Barbara, must be strangely overwrought. With your permission, I will
follow her and attend to her needs."
He turned and for the first time looked definitely at the little knot
of men that surrounded him. The women, young and old, had been
withdrawn from his environment by their escorts. His eyes traveled
slowly from one to another of the familiar faces.
"Surely, my Lord Grimsby," clamored Ashley, "you will not let the
fellow escape!"
"Surely my Lord Grimsby is going to place no reliance on a tale like
this told by a whimsical girl!" retorted Lord Farquhart before Lord
Grimsby's slow words had fallen on his ears.
"We will most assuredly take all measures for safeholding my Lord
Farquhart."
"But, Lord Grimsby," cried Farquhart, realizing for the first time
that the situation might have a serious side, "you surely do not
believe this tale!"
"I would like to see some reason for doubting the lady's word,"
answered the older man. "And you forget that her story is corroborated
by Mr. Ashley. Neither must you overlook the fact that for some time
the authorities have been convinced that this highwayman was no common
rogue, that he is undoubtedly some one closely connected with our
London life, if--if indeed----" But this was no place for Lord Grimsby
to assert his own opinion that the highwayman was indeed the devil
incarnate.
"Why, the whole thing is the merest fabrication," cried Lord
Farquhart, impatiently. "It
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