Hardwicke's duty as "best man" was now the only
bar to the beginning of a campaign destined to foil Andrew Fraser's
Loch Leven tactics of imprisoning his niece and ward.
"You will have but a brief honeymoon, Eric!" laughed Hardwicke.
"You have promised to stand by me, Harry," replied his friend. "See
me married to-morrow, then a week's honeymoon at Jersey is all that
I ask! I can bestow my wife there with a dear friend, who has the
prettiest old Norman chateau-maison on the island, and after that
be near you there at Rozel Bay to work up the final discomfiture of
this old vampire. I only claim the attendance of the whole party
at my wedding, then I will disappear and spy out the ground for
you long before you are ready to astonish the dreamy old bookworm.
I have made my own plans, and Flossie has agreed to our runaway
trip 'in the interests of the service'! She is a soldier's daughter,
remember!" Miss Mildred, wreathed in her soft laces, shimmering
in her gray poplin, and bending her stately head in salutation,
extended a delicate hand, loaded down with quaint old Indian rings,
to each, when the coffee was served.
"I will leave you now to the hatching of your famous conspiracy for
the invasion of the Island of Jersey." The old gentlewoman passed
smilingly through the door where the three knightly soldiers stood
bowing low, and then the four conspirators sat down to arrange the
dramatis persona of a little society play in "High Life," in which
Professor Andrew Fraser was destined to be the central figure, and
act without "lines" or rehearsal.
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