"Harold Garth is like you."
"Where the--what the--you saw him?"
"In church yesterday. He's ill with consumption, dying they say. Demetrius attends him. Supposing--supposing"--her imagination made her cheeks flush--"supposing--oh, you understand."
The sluggish comprehension of the man grasped her hinted scheme suddenly, and his eyes lighted up. "Supposing he died and was buried in place of me, you mean?"
"You don't suppose I mean murder, do you?" she cried, rising to the height of her tall figure and speaking irritably.
"You would if there was money in it," said Jim, grimly.
"It would be a natural death," went on Leah, rapidly, and pacing the room to relieve the strain on her nerves. "The poor fellow can't live long. If he died, and was buried as----"
"No go," contradicted Jim, rising in his turn. "Every one about here knows of the likeness; for which," he added slowly, "there's a reason."
"So I learned yesterday from Mrs. Arthur."
Jim was indignant. "Do you mean to tell me----?"
"I mean to tell you that I gathered the truth from what she left unsaid. You don't suppose that I require words to explain things."
"I don't see how it's to be managed," said Kaimes, reflectively.
"If it could be, would you surrender everything and----?"
"Yes, I would, for a quarter of the money. Then I'd go out of your life an' to Lima----"
"Lima," said Lady Jim, stopping suddenly. "Why to Lima? You've been there three times since we married."
"No end of a place, Lima," muttered Jim, feebly.
His wife looked at his colouring face attentively, and laughed in a short, rasping manner. An idea had occurred to her which she did not think it necessary to impart to Jim. "When you're legally dead," she said sharply, "I shall have no control over your life or movements. All I want to know is, if this business can be managed, will you do your share by disappearing?"
"Yes; but I don't see how----"
"Read that book, Jim, and you'll understand better. It gave me the idea, though our plot will be different in many ways."
"Well," said Jim, tucking the novel under his arm, "I'll dip into it."
"Don't let any one see you reading, and replace it in the library without any one knowing."
"Why should I?"
"You fool," snarled Leah, viciously; "if this thing is to be carried through safely, no suspicion must rest on either of us. Do you suppose that I have spoken to this double of yours, or have let any one know that I have read the book? I don't think it really matters much, as people are too stupid to see things; but it is just as well to be on the safe side."
"But I don't see how----" began Kaimes again, and again she cut him short.
"I do--I do. Demetrius attends this young fellow."
"Oh, and he--Demetrius, I mean----"
"Leave me to deal with him," she said confidently.
Jim flung the book on the floor, and looked at her with clenched hands. "What is this Demetrius to you?" he asked violently.
"A puppet I can pull the strings of," she retorted; "and be good enough to remember that you are not in a training-stable."
"If that beastly little Tartar----"
"My dear Jim," said his wife coolly, "if you ask me about Demetrius, I shall certainly ask you about Lima."
Kaimes was taken aback. "Lima," he stammered, flushing to the roots of his fair hair. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that you can trust me to ask no questions, if you will mind your own business."
"As you are my wife, Demetrius is my business."
"Think of me as your widow then," she mocked, "and that I can't be without the aid of Demetrius."
"Why can't you speak plainly?"
"I might ask you the same question, but"--she picked up the novel and thrust it into Jim's unwilling hands--"I fancy you and I understand one another pretty well."
"I won't have any man making love to you."
"Very good," said Leah, calmly; "then you must remain a pauper, and my husband. I'm not going to all this trouble to share you with----"
"Well, with whom?--out with it!"
"I think you can answer that question best, Jim."
"Upon my honour----"
"Pah!" she said with disgust. "Hadn't we better leave honour out of this shady business we are about to embark in?"
"You really mean to----"
"I really mean to get that twenty thousand pounds!"
"You'll lose me," Jim reminded her uneasily.
Leah made a grimace. "My loss is another's gain," she said significantly. "Now go away, Jim. I have to dress in my best frock in order to fascinate Demetrius;" and she vanished into her dressing-room with a provoking laugh.
Lord Jim said something about Demetrius that involved the use of unprintable language. Then he slipped the book into the pocket of his shooting-jacket and lumbered downstairs. In spite of his squabbling with Leah, and the existence of some one in Lima, he was furiously jealous of Demetrius, and scowled at the Russian when they met. Demetrius rather liked that scowl, as he guessed the reason, and took it as a tribute to his fascinations. If he had known Lady Jim's real intentions, and that she intended to convert English rather than French fiction into everyday facts, he might not have smiled so victoriously over his coffee. But Demetrius made the fatal mistake of so many clever men: he knew he was clever, and thereby was not what he fancied himself to be. The true secret of success lies, not in knowing how clever oneself is, but how stupid other people are.
While Jim was growling over his provender, Miss Tallentire, who had finished her breakfast, slipped out of the room. She felt strange in the company of the frumps and fashionables which formed the house-party. Certainly the frumps were eating in private, and would not appear till the world was well-aired, and they had been "made-up" sufficiently well to prevent the younger generation being shocked. But the fashionable people came to breakfast in public, and Joan found the talk far above her comprehension. These languid creatures, who ate so little and talked so much, were like inhabitants of a strange planet, and it was with great relief that the girl found herself passed over. Of course, nobody thought of noticing Cinderella in her rags.
As Lady Canvey was being rehabilitated by a skilful maid, and would not be seen as the world knew her for at least two hours, Joan had this time to herself. The brightness of the day tempted her to assume hat and jacket for a morning walk, and she was shortly tripping over the crisp snow of the avenue. The glorious sunshine, the keen air, the dazzling whiteness of the snow, and the generally invigorating influence of this ideal winter morning stirred the current of her blood to nimbleness. Joan began to sing softly, and could hardly keep from dancing, so rapidly did her spirits mount skyward. At length, the place being solitary and she being recklessly young, a sudden impulse sent her flying like an arrow between the grim firs. Near the gates she shot directly into the arms of a man, and uttered an ejaculation. This was hardly to be wondered at, seeing that the arms closed tightly round her, and a pair of warm lips deepened the colour which exercise had brought to her cheeks.
"Lionel!" cried Joan; and "Darling!" replied Lionel, which sufficiently explains the feeling which existed between Lady Canvey's companion and Lady Canvey's pet.
These two babies, as the old lady called them, had been engaged for six months, but the fact was not generally known. The clerical parent of Joan had given his consent, on the understanding that Lionel was to possess a better income and the best vicarage obtainable before he made Joan Mrs. Kaimes. The young man had agreed readily enough, as he did not want to inflict his comparative penury, and poor lodgings, on the girl he so dearly loved. Joan and he had decided to wait for two years, and during that time Lionel was to reform Lambeth. He was attempting to do this with all the vigour of his energetic nature, and between times made love to Joan. Lady Canvey knew of the engagement, and would have had the couple married at once, since she could easily have given Lionel a living, and wished to do so. But the curate was anxious to become the vicar of Firmingham. The present incumbent was seriously ill, and in the event of death the Duke had promised that Lionel should fill the pulpit.
Therefore the lovers waited very happily, and if Firmingham did not come to them within the decreed two years, they were quite prepared to marry on the bread and cheese of a hard London life. Meantime, Joan was seeing a trifle of West End life under Lady Canvey's wing, and her earnings, as Lady Canvey's companion, were most acceptable to the hard-worked Mr. Tallentire and his wife. Thus it was that Joan returned Lionel's kiss, and only released herself from his loving arms when she remembered they were within sight of the lodge.
"Lionel, how can you?" she said, setting her hat straight.
"How can't I, you mean," he replied, smiling; "do you think I am as cold as the snow?"
"I don't know if you're as nice," pouted Joan, "or you would have asked me to walk with you this morning."
"No, dear," he said, gravely: "I could not have taken you to see Harold Garth. The poor fellow is too ill. But we can walk now. I have nothing to do, and--Joan, where are you going?"
"Back to the house. I won't be taken for a walk on nothing-to-do terms."
"You silly child!"
"You cruel boy!"
Then they kissed and made it up in full view of a red-breast, who cocked his head on one side and wondered why these human beings looked so pleased. Joan said "Shoo!" and he flew away to tell his wife, while the couple walked sedately through the gates, and into a world which their love created for themselves alone.
All the same, their conversation was a trifle prosaic. They read a letter which Joan had received from her mother about trouble over the Christmas gifts to the poor of the parish, and discussed this old woman who lived in a chilly garret, and that old man who dwelt like a troglodyte in a damp cellar, till the conversation became as sober as the looks of the village sexton whom they met. And he was a teetotaller.
But however enthusiastic human nature may be in the talking and doing of good works, love after all takes precedence of philanthropy, and shortly they began discussing themselves and their happiness. What they said does not matter much. Although foolish, it was sweet to them, and Joan's eyes sparkled like the icicles on the bleak hedge-rows at the looks her lover gave her. They walked in the pleasant Land of Tenderness, and down the by-lane of First Love. Joan had never seen the old French chart of that country, with its quaint names and odd geography, but neither Lionel nor herself needed its guidance. They had skimmed through the country before, and knew the lie of it extremely well.
The pair soared pretty nearly to the gates of their transcendental heaven, until the strain became too great for mere human effort, and they folded their wings of thought to drop earthward. That unfailing timepiece, the human interior, announced the hour of luncheon, and with some haste they turned homeward.
"Iamhungry," said Lionel, ogreishly.
"Don't eat me," laughed Miss Tallentire; "you look as though you could!"
"You be Red Ridinghood and I the wolf," suggested Lionel.
"No. Do be serious, Lionel! I want you to tell me about this poor man you saw."
"Garth? Ah, he'll never see another Christmas. Consumption is wasting him to a shadow. In another three or four months----" Lionel broke off with a sigh, "Poor man!"
"Can't anything be done?" asked Joan, sympathetically.
"Everything possible is being done, Joan. The Duke is looking after Garth in every way--you know how kind he is. He even sent Demetrius to cure him, and if Demetrius can't, no one else can."
"But if he was taken to a warmer climate----"
"The end would only be retarded for a few months," interrupted the curate. "Demetrius says there is no hope. And I don't think the poor fellow is sorry to go, Joan. He has no relatives, and few friends. I fancy he has had a lonely life."
The tears filled Joan's brown eyes. "Poor fellow!" she echoed, stealing one hand into that of her lover's. "Fancy, if we----"
"I can't fancy it with you by my side. And what is more, I don't intend to fancy it," said Lionel, hastily. "Please God, you and I have many happy and useful years before us. How do you like the Firmingham vicarage, Joan?"
"Oh, it's lovely, and such a sweet church. But I fear it's too good to be true."
"Perhaps it's not what you want," joked the curate. "If I were the Duke, now!"
"Ah, that's impossible," she laughed, amused at the idea of being a duchess; "the very idea frightens me."
"It needn't," Lionel assured her: "you will never be called upon to wear strawberry leaves, unless the Duke and Frith and Jim all go the way poor Garth is taking. And then Frith's wife may have a little Lord Firmingham. I sincerely hope so, as it would never do for Jim to be the Duke of Pentland."
"You don't like him?"
"Not passionately," said the curate, dryly.
"His wife would make a splendid duchess."
"In looks, I have no doubt. But with fifty thousand a year and a great position, she and Jim would do good to neither God nor man."
"Lady James Kaimes seems very kind," observed Joan, timidly.
"It's all seeming. Of real, true, self-sacrificing kindness she knows absolutely nothing."
"But she is so beautiful, Lionel."
"So was Jezebel, I expect."
"Oh, Lionel!"
"Oh, Joan!" he mimicked. "Don't worry your head over Lady Jim. She will always get on well in this world, though I am very doubtful about her position in the next. Come," he pointed down the incline of the lane, "I'll race you to the bottom."
"We might meet some one."
"I don't care--I'm out for a holiday;" and away flew Lionel down the snowy lane, with his clerical coattails fluttering in the wind.
Joan, girlish and simple and extremely young, sped after him, and with rosy cheeks arrived at the goal before her lover.
"Come," said the curate, wiping his heated brow, "considering I won three flat races at the 'varsity, that's not bad, Joan."
"You humbug, as if I didn't see that you let me win.
"I'll be a tyrant after marriage," said Lionel, merrily. "Enjoy your little day, my love!"
"I am enjoying this day," said Joan, as they walked rapidly towards the park gates; "but what will Lady Canvey say?"
"Pooh! What does it matter? She was young herself a century ago."
"She's a dear old woman."
"No," contradicted Lionel, critically; "she is old and clever, but I should not call her a dear. That word suits some one else."
"Me," cried Joan, triumphantly.
"How clever of you to guess that! Hulloa, who is this?"
The gates were opened and a sledge issued, drawn by two black ponies. In it sat Lady Jim, who was driving, and Dr. Constantine Demetrius.
"What is she up to now?" Lionel asked himself. He was intensely distrustful of Lady Jim, but he did not explain this to Joan.
The sledge occupied by this well-matched couple might have been used by Pompadour, in the days when the finances of France were melting in the furnace of Versailles. The basketwork body of a swan, gilded and painted and elegantly fragile, rested delicately on slim steel runners, and glided over the frozen snow in the rear of two spirited black ponies. These, harnessed in the Russian fashion, with a paucity of trappings and many tiny silver bells, sprang forward, under Lady Jim's skilful guidance, as though they were rioting in a spring meadow. She and her companion were snugly wrapped in an opossum rug, which Leah, rather vulgarly, despised as a cheap article. Her mink cloak, with the snowy ermine scarf drawn through the shoulder cape in the latest fashion, had cost nearly ten times the amount, and Leah wore it with the proud consciousness that she owed no money for it. It was an early-winter present from Lady Frith, and she had accepted it on the generous ground that its cut and rich brown colour became her better than they would have suited the dowdy, insignificant Marchioness. But the little woman never knew that Lady Jim's good-nature had prevailed to this extent. She had thought to give Leah pleasure.
Demetrius, muffled in Muscovite sables, sat contentedly by this Tauric Diana, wondering why he had been graciously invited to drive with the goddess, after a hurried luncheon. The two were tête-à-tête, for the groom had been dispensed with as out of keeping with the novel vehicle. The excuse was artistic. Nevertheless, Demetrius suspected other reasons for the absence of an eavesdropping servant. What these might be he hoped to hear from Lady Jim.
But as yet she showed no disposition to speak frankly, for the Russian, in Jim's picturesque speech, was a gentleman to be handled "with the gloves on." Jim himself had impressed this on Leah, before he sat down to spell outThe Woman in White. Needless to say, this unusual effort to improve what Jim was pleased to term his mind bored him extremely. "Not a word about racin'," grumbled Jim, skipping page after page. Still, as Leah pointed out the necessity of poaching on the domain of fiction, Jim sat at his lesson like a good little boy, and his wife drove out with her proposed victim. That the irony of fate might change the victim into a possible tyrant did not occur to Leah at the moment.
All the same, she was careful not to commit herself too hastily, and for two miles talked society-journal paragraphs with an assiduity at once boring and perplexing to Demetrius. Even when the sledge slipped, silent and ghost-like, over an Arctic waste, and they were alone to babble secrets to a frosty sky, Leah showed no disposition to come to the point. She wished Demetrius to question her, and then, by seeing into his mind, she could be guided as to the most selfishly-successful way of making up her own. But the doctor guessed her reason for this diplomatic silence, and knowing what a shameless capacity she had for word-twisting and for slipping out of untenable positions, he gave her no opportunity to overlook his hand. It was certainly, as he reflected, a game of skill, but what the precise style of game might be Demetrius could not guess. However, one thing was certain; this game, like all others, was being played for money. On Lady Jim's part, that is. Demetrius shuffled his cards for the stake of love, and so, having Leah Kaimes for an antagonist, lost at the outset. A game between a man and a woman, on amatory grounds, is always unequal. The one in earnest invariably loses.
"Does this remind you of the steppes?" asked Leah, waving her whip towards a desert of snow and ice. The polite conversation was still much in evidence.
"Somewhat, madame; but I cannot remember sledging across any steppe in such charming company."
"Ah! You have never driven Mademoiselle Aksakoff, then?"
"It is a pleasure yet to come."
"In Russia?"
"Why not? She may induce her father to make my peace with the Czar."
"You would be pleased?"
Demetrius shrugged his spare shoulders, and replied in the evasive manner which characterised this conversation on the part of both.
"I am well content with England," he remarked calmly. "Many people are pleasant, and all agreeable. Also, the Duke pays me well--too well, considering he is my solitary patient."
"I never knew a physician to quarrel with his fees before," laughed Lady Jim, flicking the ponies lightly; "and you have another patient, I understand--Mr. Kaimes said something about it."
"The young priest--ah, yes. He was at the gates with that most adorable young lady, whom I presume he will marry. Your Anglican priests, like our Greek popes, have that freedom, have they not?"
"You do not answer my question."
"Ah, pardon, madame," said the doctor, with an apologetic smile and his hands palm to palm. "Yes--it is so. I have another patient, a peasant--one Harold Garth," he pronounced the name uncommonly clearly.
"How well you speak English, Monsieur Demetrius! So many foreigners over-emphasise their 'h's', and slur their 'r's.'"
"We Russians have a capacity for tongues. I know five languages."
"Can you tell the truth in any one of them?" asked Lady Jim, rather rudely; but then she wished to make him lose his temper, in the hope of breaking down his reserve. But love had not yet blinded Demetrius, and he became offensively gentle.
"To you, madame, I always speak the truth."
"I take you at your word," said Lady Jim, smartly. "Why did you leave Russia, Monsieur Demetrius?"
"Madame, I come of a princely family, but for the sake of humanity I practised my profession in Moscow. A dear friend of mine foolishly joined the Anarchists, and an order was issued for his arrest. Fortunately, the official who signed the warrant was my patient, and I chanced to be with him when the paper was brought for his signature. He laid it aside for the moment, and I saw my friend's name. I therefore gave my patient a drug, which made him sleep for twenty-four hours, so that he could not sign. Meanwhile, my friend escaped--it matters not how--but he escaped, with my help. Through a rival doctor, my use of the drug to aid my friend became known, and I was accused of conspiring also. The governor of Moscow was enraged, and ordered my arrest in my friend's place. The prospect of Siberia was not pleasant, so I crossed the frontier after many delightful adventures, with the recital of which I shall not trouble you. Behold me, therefore, in your free country, madame, no longer a subject of the Czar, but your devoted slave."
He told the story, without preamble or excuse, in an unemotional and level voice, though all the time he wondered why Lady Jim desired to hear it. She gave him no explanation. "And if you go back to Russia?" she asked carelessly.
"I fear I shall never go back, madame."
"Who knows? Mademoiselle Aksakoff might----"
"Precisely, madame. She might, and, with small encouragement, she would. But her gaining of my pardon would assuredly lead to a marriage of gratitude."
"That would be no sacrifice."
"To many--no. To myself--madame, it is impossible!"
"Can you not make your peace without her influence?"
"Alas, no, madame. The Grand Duke was furious at my share in my friend's escape. He would give much to capture me, and should I set foot on the Continent"--he shrugged his shoulders significantly; "but the Third Section has no power in your land of liberty."
"The Third Section?"
"If it pleases madame better, the secret police. No; unless I marry Mademoiselle Aksakoff, of whom I admit my unworthiness, I must remain in exile--but it has many compensations," he added, bowing his head courteously to Lady Jim's profile.