Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Queen's Scarlet > This page
The Queen's Scarlet, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 28. The Alarm |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. THE ALARM Dance succeeded dance; the refreshment-room was visited in the intervals; and, as the various couples passed the musicians, scraps of their conversation told, from time to time, how great a success the ball was considered to be; while, among the faces, all looked bright and animated except two--those of Dick and Lieutenant Lacey--who, between the dances, came by the orchestra several times to attend to the two ladies seated near, but more often to the elderly lady alone. For the big, handsome Adonis of the regiment was by no means happy. He told himself that he was not in the least jealous; but he had anticipated taking the lady of his choice in to supper and been thwarted by that lady's aunt, who had said, sweetly: "I shall expect you to take me in to supper, Lieutenant Lacey. Sir Mark Frayne has kindly said that he will see to my niece." As for Dick, he worked hard at his task, and tried to think of nothing else but the waltzes, polkas, and quadrilles; and, consequently, thought of them hardly at all, but of the handsome young officer in scarlet, who came again and again to where the Deanes were seated--the last time just as supper was announced, at the break between the two divisions of the music. "Almost a pity to stop the dances," said Mark, as he offered his arm to Miss Deane. And Dick saw that the lady darted a deprecating look at Lacey, who offered his arm to the aunt, and joined in the long line of dancers trooping out to the great marquee, now opened for the first time by the drawing back of the heavy drapery which had hidden the interior from the guests. For the officers had determined that there should be no scrambled-for, stand-up supper, but a comfortably-arranged meal, with seats for every guest; while now a hurried movement was made by the band to a fresh orchestra inside the marquee, which was reached by a ladder from the back, and a selection of operatic airs was commenced at once to the rattle of knife, fork, and plate, and jingle of glass. The marquee was soon crowded; and from high up where he stood Dick had a good view of the prettiest part of the scene; while, as he played, his eyes wandered round and round in search of Mark, to find, after a time, that he had overlooked him: for he was seated with Miss Deane, almost below and to the right, while Lacey was with the aunt on the other side of the table--one of the four which reached from end to end. Once he had made out where they were, Dick could hardly keep his eyes off his cousin, who was evidently, to the lady's annoyance, making himself far too attentive; while, more than once, it was plain to see from Lacey's lowering countenance that a storm was brewing. But Lacey was a steward for the occasion, and more than once servants came up to him for orders and instructions; while Jerry, who was busily seeing to the wants of those at that end of the table, was also going about, apparently with messages to the colonel and major. "What an abominable smell of gas!" said Wilkins, after a piece or two had been played. "Yes, sir; I noticed it as we came up here first." "Humph! the pipes not properly joined, I suppose," said Wilkins. "Play the next." Then a selection from Sullivan's operas was played, but half-drowned by the noise from the tables. "This gas is suffocating up here," said the bandmaster, calling attention to it again. "Yes, sir; I wonder they don't grumble down below." "Humph! all up here, and along the upper part of the tent," grumbled the bandmaster; and then his attention was taken off by the appearance of Jerry through the curtain of canvas opening upon the orchestra. "Lieutenant Lacey, sir, says the band needn't play no more during supper; and there's refreshments all ready in the little tent outside." "Oh, thanks!" cried Wilkins. "Bring your instruments and music, and then we needn't come up here again before we go to the ball-room. Halloa! you smell it?" "Yes, sir," said Jerry, who had been sniffing loudly. "Someone's been turning on the gas here, and no mistake! Temp'ry pipes, I suppose." "Doesn't it smell down below?" "Yes, I did notice it a bit, sir, all along the tables; but nothing like this." "Never mind; let's get out of it. Soon blow away." Wilkins set the example, and hurried out and down the step-ladder, which took them outside, and, followed by the bandsmen, he made for the little tent where their supper was laid. They had to pass the end of the great marquee, and Dick and Jerry, who were last, paused, while the latter drew the drapery a little on one side, holding it back before letting it fall after him. "I must get back to my table, sir," he said. "Like a peep from here?" Dick nodded and stood at the opening, gazing along the marquee toward the opening into the mess-room at the other end, the effect being very beautiful, with the long row of gaseliers and the vista of flags and red and white striped drapery running up to the narrow ridge of the roof. But Dick saw nothing of this; his eyes sought the group right at the other end beneath the little elevated orchestra he had just left, and he was just making out where his cousin sat when there was a flash like sheet-lightning running along the upper part of the canvas, reaching from end to end. He felt himself thrust violently back, as he seemed to be struck with something heavy and soft; then there was a deep, dull report, as of thunder, and all was dark, while from where the marquee had stood there came wild shrieks, cries for help, and a strange babel of sounds, which, issuing from beneath what in the darkness looked like a chaotic sea, were for the most part smothered and strange. _ |
||