The Riddle of the Lost Lover Read Free

assumed that the boy took after the Wansdykes, his mother’s family. But you may be sure Sir Kendrick was all too aware of the truth, and reminded of it each time he looked at John.”
    â€œWell? Well? Never back and fill! Who was the fellow?”
    Adair leaned to take up the letter from the Prime Minister. “Perhaps you should read this, sir.”
    With a snarl of irritation, Wellington broke the seal. His eyes ran rapidly down the page. When he looked up, he was pale. “I cannot credit it! Of all the men in the world…!”
    Adair watched him gravely through a brief silence.
    Wellington folded the letter again and stared at it blankly. “I’ve a real sympathy for John Vespa,” he muttered, as if to himself. “He’s a fine young fellow and was a splendid officer.” He looked up from under his brows and said with grim intensity, “A deuced ugly mess you bring me, Colonel.”
    Apprehensive, Adair said, “Yes. I apologize, sir.”
    The great soldier grunted and dealt the barometer a sharp rap.
    Adair’s apprehensions were justified.
    â€œYou shall have to tidy it up,” said Field Marshal Lord Wellington.

1
    London.
    â€œDisgusting!” Jerking aside the heavy draperies that shielded her drawing-room windows, Mrs. Fortram scowled down into the rainy darkness and said in her elderly and irritable voice, “Here’s another of ’em rattling up the street to shatter our quiet! Look at ’em, Hubert! Confounded idiots! There ought to be a law against routs and balls and musicales and falderals being carried on in this peaceful and refined neighbourhood!”
    â€œMmm,” said her son, savouring another sip of his port.
    For all her apparent frailty, Gertrude Fortram was not easily diverted from a Cause. Choosing to forget the many occasions on which her own parties and balls had disrupted the neighbourhood peace, she went on fiercely, “Cluttering up the streets at all hours of the night! Keeping honest folk from their rest! You’d think people could find better ways to amuse themselves than to put on clothes that belong more to midsummer than a cold wintry night, and drive halfway across Town to answer the summons of Esther Wolff, as if she were one of the almighty ton leaders! Which she is not, and so I’ve told her!”
    Receiving only a sympathetic grunt in reply, the old lady continued, “It’s not as if we were at the height of the Season. I’d thought London thin of company, in point of fact, but— Heavens! If ever I saw such a crush! Much good those special constables do! Lud, only look at how the carriages are obliged to wait in line! One might suppose Wellington himself was among the guests!”
    Mr. Fortram settled his portly self more comfortably in his deep chair, stretched his slippered feet closer to the warm hearth, and turned the page of The Times. “In that case I would have accepted the invitation, Mama,” he murmured, drowsily content. “I can only be glad that—”
    He glanced up, startled, as his words were cut off by a shriek.
    â€œThat wretched cat! ” shrilled his mother. “The fur will fly now!”
    His curiosity aroused at last, Hubert puffed and huffed, extricated himself from the chair and crossed to the window. “Who? Oh, Gad! The Hersh dragon! I thought she was in Bath.”
    â€œAs she should be at this time of year. And— Look there! Lucinda Carden, and on Ted Ridgley’s arm! Who’s next? Ah, that horrid Phineas Bodwin escorting … I cannot recognize her, but she looks a trollop, which surprises me not at all.”
    â€œGathering of the gabble-mongers,” sneered Hubert. “I wonder whom they mean to flay tonight.”
    â€œSir Kendrick Vespa, of course!”
    Shocked, he protested, “Jupiter, ma’am! They can’t flay poor Sir Kendrick. Dead, y’know.”
    â€œNo, I don’t know!