Volume Ii Part 68 (1/2)

Questions, and demands for explanation, pressed on every hand, their countrymen gathering round the antagonists on either side, both of whom maintained for some minutes a perfect silence. The Duke was the first to speak. ”Gentlemen,” said he, ”you have heard an expression addressed to me which no Frenchman listens to without inflicting chastis.e.m.e.nt on the speaker--I do not ask--I do not care in the least--who this person may be--what his rank and position in life; I am ready to admit him to the fullest equality with myself. It only remains that I should satisfy myself of certain doubts, which his own manner has originated. It may be that he cannot call me, or any other gentleman, to account for his words.”

Linton's face twitched with short convulsive jerks as he listened, and then, crossing the room to where the Duke stood, he struck him with his glove across the face, while, with a very shout of pa.s.sion, he uttered the one word, ”Coward!” The scene became now one of the wildest confusion. The partisans.h.i.+p of country surrounded either with a group, who in loud tones expressed their opinions, and asked for explanations of what had occurred. That some gross insult had been put upon Linton was the prevailing impression; but how originating, or of what nature, none knew, nor did the princ.i.p.als seem disposed to afford the information.

”I tell you, Frobisher,” said Linton, angrily, ”it is a matter does not admit of explanation.”

”_Parbleu_, sir! you have placed it out of the reach of such,” said an old French officer, ”and I trust you will feel the consequences.”

The chaos of tongues, loud in altercation and dispute, now burst forth again, some a.s.serting that the cause of quarrel should be openly declared at once, others averring that the opprobrious epithet applied by Linton to the Duke effectually debarred negotiation, and left no other arbitrament than the pistol. In the midst of this tumult, where angry pa.s.sions were already enlisted, and insolent rejoinders pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth, a still louder uproar was now heard in the direction of the _salon_, and the crash of a breaking door, and the splintering noise of the shattered wood, overtopped the other sounds.

”The commissaire de police!” cried some one, and the words were electric. The hours of play were illegal,--the habits of the house such as to implicate all in charges more or less disgraceful; and immediately a general rush was made for escape,--some seeking the well-known private issues from the apartment, others preparing for a bold attempt to force their pa.s.sage through the armed followers of the commissary.

Every avenue of escape had been already occupied by the gendarmes; and the discomfited gamblers were seen returning into the room crestfallen and ashamed, when the commissary, followed by a knot of others in plain clothes, advancing into the middle of the chamber, p.r.o.nounced the legal form of arrest on all present.

”I am a peer of France,” said the Duc de Marsac, haughtily. ”I yield to no authority that does not carry the signature of my sovereign.”

”You are free, Monsieur le Duc,” said the commissary, bowing respectfully.

”I am an English gentleman,” said Linton, stepping forward. ”I demand by what right you presume to detain me in custody?”

”What is your name, sir?” asked the commissary.

”Linton!” was the brief reply.

”That's the man,” whispered a voice from behind the commissary; and, at the same instant, that functionary approached, and laying his hand on the other's shoulder, said,--

”I arrest you, sir, on the charge of murder.”

”Murder!” repeated Linton, with a sneer that he could not merge into a laugh. ”This is a sorry jest, sir.”

”You will find it sad earnest!” said a deep voice.

Linton turned round, and straight in front of him stood Roland Cashel, who, with bent brows and compressed lips, seemed struggling to repress the pa.s.sion that worked within him.

”I say, Frobisher, are you omitted in the indictment?” cried Linton, with a sickly attempt to laugh; ”or has our buccaneering friend forgotten to stigmatize you for the folly of having known him?”

”He is in _my_ custody,” said a gruff English voice, in reply to some observation of the commissary; and a short, stout-built man made a gesture to another in the crowd to advance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 422]

”What! is this indignity to be put upon me?” said Linton, as he saw the handcuffs produced, and prepared to be adjusted to his wrists. ”Is the false accusation of a pirate and a slaver to expose me to the treatment of a convicted felon?”

”I will do my duty, sir,” said the police officer, steadily. ”If I do more, my superiors can hear of it. Tom, put on the irons.”

”Is this your vengeance, sir?” said Linton, as he cast a look of ineffable hate towards Cashel; but Roland made no reply, as he stood regarding the scene with an air of saddest meaning.

”You knew him better than I did, Charley,” said Linton, sneeringly, ”when you black-balled him at the yacht club; but the world shall know him better yet than either of us,--mean-spirited scoundrel that he is.”

”Come away, sir,” said the officer, as he placed himself on one side of his prisoner, his fellow doing the same at the other.

”Not till I see your warrant,” said Linton, resolutely.