THE EXECUTION
Captain Wentworth clicked his heels together and saluted. Blake, in the background, drew a deep breath - unmistakably of satisfaction, and his eyes glittered. A muffled cry broke from Ruth, who rose instantly from her chair, her hand on her bosom. Richard stood with fallen jaw, amazed, a trifle troubled even, whilst Mr. Wilding started more in surprise than actual fear, and approached the table.
"You heard, sir," said Captain Wentworth.
"I heard," answered Mr. Wilding quietly. "But surely not aright. One moment, sir," and he waved his hand so compellingly that, despite the order he had received, the phlegmatic captain hesitated.
Feversham, who had taken the cravat - a yard of priceless Dutch lace -from the hands of his valet, and was standing with his back to the company at a small and very faulty mirror that hung by the overmantel, looked peevishly over his shoulder.
"My lord," said Wilding, and Blake, for all his hatred of this man, marvelled at a composure that did not forsake him even now, "you are surely not proposing to deal with me in this fashion -not seriously, my lord?""Ah, ca!" said the Frenchman. "T'ink it a jest if you please. What for you come `ere?""Assuredly not for the purpose of being shot," said Wilding, and actually smiled. Then, in the tones of one discussing a matter that is grave but not of surpassing gravity, he continued: "It is not that Ifail to recognize that I may seem to have incurred the rigour of the law; but these matters must be formally proved against me. I have affairs to set in order against such a consummation.""Ta, ta!" snapped Feversham. "T'at not regard me. Weutwort', you `ave `eard my order." And he returned to his mirror and the nice adjustment of his neckwear.
"But, my lord," insisted Wilding, "you have not the right - you have not the power so to proceed against me. A man of my quality is not to be shot without a trial.""You can `ang if you prefer," said Feversham indifferently, drawing out the ends of his cravat and smoothing them down upon his breast. He faced about briskly. "Give me t'at coat, Belmont. His Majesty `ave empower me to `ang or shoot any gentlemens of t'e partie of t'e Duc t'e Monmoot' on t'e spot. I say t'at for your satisfaction. And look, Iam desolate' to be so quick wit' you, but please to consider t'e circumstance. T'e enemy go to attack. Wentwort' must go to his regimen', and my ot'er officers are all occupi'. You comprehen' I `ave not t'e time to spare you - n'est-ce-pas?" - Wentworth's hand touched Wilding on the shoulder. He was standing with head slightly bowed, his brows knit in thought. He looked round at the touch, sighed and smiled.
Belmont held the coat for his master, who slipped into it, and flung at Wilding what was intended for a consolatory sop. "It is fortune de guerre, Mistaire Wilding. I am desolate'; but it is fortune of t'e war.""May it be less fortunate for your lordship, then," said Wilding dryly, and was on the point of turning, when Ruth's voice came in a loud cry to startle him and to quicken his pulses.
"My lord!" It was a cry of utter anguish.
Feversham, settling his gold-laced coat comfortably to his figure, looked at her. "Madame?" said he.
But she had nothing to say. She stood, deathly white, slightly bent forward, one hand wringing the other, her eyes almost wild, her bosom heaving frantically.
"Hum!" said Feversham, and he loosened and removed the scarf from his head. He shrugged slightly and looked at Wentworth. "Finissons!"said he.
The word and the look snapped the trammels that bound Ruth's speech.
"Five minutes, my lord!" she cried imploringly. "Give him five minutes - and me, my lord!"Wilding, deeply shaken, trembled now as he awaited Feversham's reply.
The Frenchman seemed to waver. "Bien," he began, spreading his hands.
And in that moment a shot rang out in the night and startled the whole company. Feversham threw back his head; the signs of yielding left his face. "Ha!" he cried. "T'ey are arrive. He snatched his wig from his lacquey's hands, donned it, and turned again an instant to the mirror to adjust the great curls. "Quick, Wentwort'! T'ere is no more time now. Make Mistaire Wilding be shot at once. T'en to your regimen'."He faced about and took the sword his valet proffered. "Au revoir, messieurs!
Serviteur, madame!" And, buckling his sword-belt as he went, he swept out, leaving the door wide open, Belmont following, Wentworth saluting and the guards presenting arms.
"Come, sir," said the captain in a subdued voice, his eyes avoiding Ruth's face.
"I am ready," answered Wilding firmly, and he turned to glance at his wife.
She was bending towards him, her hands held out, such a look on her face as almost drove him mad with despair, reading it as he did. He made a sound deep in his throat before he found words.
"Give me one minute, sir - one minute," he begged Wentworth. "I ask no more than that."Wentworth was a gentleman and not ill-natured. But he was a soldier and had received his orders. He hesitated between the instincts of the two conditions. And what time he did so there came a clatter of hoofs without to resolve him. It was Feversham departing.
"You shall have your minute, sir," said he. "More I dare not give you, as you can see.
"From my heart I thank you," answered Mr. Wilding, and from the gratitude of his tone you might have inferred that it was his life Wentworth had accorded him.
The captain had already turned aside to address his men. "Two of you outside, guard that window," he ordered. "The rest of you, in the passage. Bestir there!""Take your precautions, by all means, sir," said Wilding; "but I give you my word of honour I shall attempt no escape.
Wentworth nodded without replying. His eye lighted on Blake - who had been seemingly forgotten in the confusion - and on Richard. Akindliness for the man who met his end so unflinchingly, a respect for so worthy an emeny, actuated the red-faced captain.
