A Small young lady, daintily fashioned, with a child-like face. She was charmingly dressed; a big feather boa was round her neck. As she stood there, in spite of the perfection of her attire, she looked more like a child than a woman. The men released each other. Mr Dumville explained.
'I was only going to throw the fellow down the stairs.'
'Is that all? And what has'--there was a little hesitation; then the word was softened by a smile--'the fellow done? And who may the fellow be?'
'I don't know. Some bounder, I suppose.'
Mr Dumville seemed slightly disconcerted, as if the situation had not quite shaped as he had expected. Mr Holland's hat and stick had fallen to the floor. He stooped to pick them up. When he turned there came an exclamation from the little lady at the door.
'Guy!'
'Miss Bewicke.'
'Whoever would have thought of seeing you? Why, this is Mr Holland, a friend of my childish days.'
She advanced with a tiny gloved hand held out to him. Mr Dumville, whose hands were in his trouser pockets, seemed disposed to be grumpy.
'It wasn't my fault; he should have told me.'
'You hardly gave me an opportunity.'
'My dear Bryan, I believe you're a little mad; that is, I believe you're a little madder even than I thought you were. Guy, this is Bryan Dumville, a gentleman who thinks that he has claims on me. Bryan, this is Guy Holland, who was a friend of mine when I was quite a little child; and that--how long ago that is!'
'I don't see how I'm to blame. The porter was talking about the fellow who has been such a nuisance, saying that he has been making himself particularly objectionable to-day, trying to force his way upstairs, and I don't know what; and he added that he was hanging about at that very moment, and if he turned his back he shouldn't be surprised if the blackguard made another try to get at you. I made up my mind that if he did I would give him what for. So, when someone knocked at the door, and I found it was a man, I went for him.'
'Nothing could be more natural.'
If Mr Holland's tone was a little dry Mr Dumville did not seem to notice it; but the lady regarded the speaker with laughter lighting all her pretty face.
'Guy, you must sup with us.'
'Thank you, I have not long dined.'
'That doesn't matter; you must eat with us again.' She rang the bell. A maid appeared. 'Bring another plate; Mr Holland will join us at supper.' Miss Bewicke proceeded to remove her outdoor things, handing them to Mr Dumville one by one, talking as she did so. 'Someone told me that you were at the other side of the world--at the North Pole, I think.'
'Not the North Pole; but I have been to Africa. I only returned last night.'
'And you came to-day to see me? How perfectly delightful of you.'
Mr Holland winced. He was conscious that the lady might misapprehend the situation.
'The fact is, I have something rather important which I wish to say to you.'
'Indeed? How interesting! I like people to say important things to me. Say it while we're at supper. That is, if it's something Bryan may be allowed to listen to.'
'If I'm in the way I'll go.'
Mr Holland was silent. He felt that Mr Dumville was in the way, but that he himself was hardly in a position to say so. Miss Bewicke spoke for him.
'My dear Bryan, when you're in the way we'll let you know. Now, people, will you please sit down?' They seated themselves at table. 'What is this very important thing?--must it out?--or will it keep?'
Mr Holland reflected. He thought of Letty, and other things. Miss Bewicke seemed disposed to be friendly. Perhaps it was as well there was a third person present. He decided to make the running.
'It's this way. My uncle's dead.'
'Your uncle? Mr George Burton? I hope you won't think me dreadful, but I cannot say I'm sorry. He was not a person for whom I entertained feelings of profound respect.'
'He--he's left rather a peculiar will.'
'I'm not surprised. I should be surprised at nothing he did which was peculiar. I never knew him do anything which wasn't. Or worse.'
Mr Holland resolved to plunge.
'He says you have a ruby ring of his.'
'He says?--who says?'
'My uncle--in his will.'
Miss Bewicke laid down her knife and fork. 'Mr Holland, do I understand that you intend to suggest that I have in my possession another person's property?'
'It's like this. He had a ruby ring, I know it very well. In his will he says you have it. He may have given it to you for all I know; he did queer things--'
'Thank you.'
'I don't mean that.'
'It doesn't matter. Go on.'
'Anyhow, it's a condition of his will that I'm to get it back from you, and if I don't get it back within three months of his death I'm to lose his money.'
'I don't in the least understand you. Will you please be so good as to make yourself quite clear.'
He made himself as clear as he could, though he did not find it easy. Nor was his explanation well received.
'Then am I to gather that you have come to me at midnight, hot-foot from Africa, in order to get from me--a ring; a ruby ring?'
'It doesn't sound very nice, but that's the plain truth of it.'
'It's very flattering.'
'Very!'
The chorus came from Mr Dumville, and was accompanied by a glare.
'I can only throw myself upon your mercy, Miss Bewicke, and implore you to let me have this ring to save my inheritance.'
Miss Bewicke resumed her knife and fork, which had all this time been lying idle. There was a change in her manner, which, though subtle, was well defined to Mr Holland's consciousness.
'By the way, Mr Holland, the other day I heard your name associated with a person called, I think, Broad. Was it merely idle gossip, or do you know anything of a person with a name like that?'
'I do. I know Miss Broad, and very well. I hope she will be my wife. She has promised that she will.'
'Ah, you and I know what is the value of such promises, don't we, Mr Holland? Is she any relation to Broad, the teaman, in Mincing Lane?'
'She is his daughter; his only child.'
'Indeed! His only child? How delightful! Old Broad has bushels of money. How nice for you, of all men, to be received in such a family.'
The airy insolence of the tone was meant to sting, and did, though he endeavoured to conceal the fact.
'You haven't answered my question.'
'Haven't I? What was your question?'
'Will you let me have the ring, to save my inheritance?'
'It's such an odd question--isn't it, Bryan? So mysterious. Melodrama's not at all my line. They say I'm too small. Do you think that I'm too small?'
'I should imagine that you were better fitted to shine in domestic comedy.'
His words conveyed a meaning which this time stung her, although she laughed.
'But, my dear Mr Holland, what do you want with an inheritance when you are going to marry a rich wife--the only child of her father, and he a widower. I'm told that old Broad's a millionaire.'
'I'm not marrying her for her father's money; nor for her own. Nor do I intend to go to her empty-handed.'
'How chivalrous you are! So changed!'
'Am I to have the ring?'
'Really, Mr Holland, you speak to me as if it were a case of stand and deliver. You can hardly know how your uncle behaved or I do not think you would broach the subject to me at all. In any case it is not one which I can discuss with you. Talk it over with Mr Dumville. Whatever he wishes I will do. I always act on his advice; he is so very wise. Good-night, Mr Holland. So glad to have seen you. Come soon again. Goodnight, Bryan, dear.'
'But you haven't had any supper.'
'Mr Holland has taken my appetite away; he has caused my mind to travel back to events which I am always endeavouring to forget. But it doesn't matter. Hear what he has to say, and decide for me. King will let you both out when your discussion's finished.'
Mr Holland stood up.
'Miss Bewicke, I am very sorry if I have said anything which has given you pain or offence. Nothing could have been further from my intention.'
'Thank you.'
'But this matter which you treat so lightly--'
'Lightly!'
'Is to me almost one of life and death. I believe that my uncle has left something like a quarter of a million.'
'What a sum, Bryan! Doesn't it sound nice?'
'If I can hand this ring to Mr Collyer--'
'To whom?'
'To Mr Collyer, my uncle's solicitor, the money is mine. I have only four days left to do it in.'
'Four days! Just now you said three months.'
'The time appointed is three months after my uncle's death. He died on the 23rd of February. I have only just become acquainted with the terms of his will. So in four days it will be decided if I am to be a rich man or a pauper. You see, Miss Bewicke, that my fate is in your hands.'
'I really cannot discuss the matter with you now. It would make me ill. The strain would be too much for me. I refer you to Mr Dumville. Bryan, dear, I leave the matter entirely in your hands.'
'Miss Bewicke--'
Mr Dumville rose.
'Mr Holland, you have heard what Miss Bewicke has said. So far as she is concerned the discussion is closed. My dear, let me open the door for you.'
He opened the door for her. She passed out, with her handkerchief to her eyes. A fact on which Mr Dumville commented.
'You see what you have done, sir--affected her to tears.'
'To what?'
'To tears!'
'Oh!'
'Well, sir, what have you to say to me?'
'To you?'
'Yes, sir, to me. You have said more than enough to Miss Bewicke. Now, perhaps there is something which you would like to say to me, as her affianced husband.'
'There are one or two things which I should like to say to you, but I am inclined to think that I had better not say them to you here. Nor do I quite see my way to ask you to come outside, though I should like to.'
Mr Holland was savage, and unwise enough to show it. Mr Dumville, having polished his eyeglass, replaced it in his eye so that he might scan the speaker with a greater show of dignity.
'What on earth do you mean by talking to me like that? If that's the kind of remark you wish to make the sooner you get away the better.'
'I am quite of your opinion, Mr Dumville. I shall always remember with pleasure that I was able to get away from you.'
Mr Dumville strode forward.
'You be hanged, sir!'
'After you, Mr Dumville, after you.'
'You had better be careful; although I don't want to have a vulgar row with you here.'
'Would you mind mentioning a place at which you would? I will try to make it convenient to be there.'
Mr Dumville turned and rang the bell.
'What's that for?'
'For the servant to show you out.'
Mr Holland laughed, showing himself out without another word. He was conscious of two things--that he had not been particularly discreet, and that he would like to make his indiscretion greater by 'taking it out' of somebody. It was not often his temper gained the upper hand; when it did he was apt to be dangerous both to himself and others.
Nor was his mood chastened by a little incident which took place as he was about to descend the staircase. From a door which opened behind him Miss Bewicke addressed him in mellifluous accents.
'Oh, Mr Holland, will you give my fondest love to dear Miss Broad? It's true that I don't know her, but if you tell her what good friends you and I used to be I'm sure that she won't mind. I hope to make her acquaintance one of these days, and then I'll tell her how fond you and I were of one another. Good-night.'
Before he had a chance to answer the door was closed. He went down the stairs in a rage.
'The little cat!' he muttered. 'The little cat! who would have thought she had such claws?'
As he was going out into the street a woman, running against him, almost knocked him over. She was entering the house, apparently in hot, unseeing haste; putting up her hand as if to prevent his observation of her features; flying up the stairs as if danger was hard upon her heels.
Mr Holland adjusted his hat, which she had knocked almost off without offering the least apology.
'I wonder what mischief you have been up to? Women are beauties, real beauties!'
Having indulged himself in this very cheap piece of cynicism, he, metaphorically, shook the dust of the house from off his feet, but had not gone a dozen paces when he found himself face to face with his cousin, Horace Burton.
Mr Burton might have been awaiting Mr Holland. He did not seem at all surprised to see him there, even at that hour of the night, or, rather, morning, for midnight had long since chimed.
'How do, dear boy? So you haven't been letting the grass grow under your feet. That's where you beat me; you are so energetic.'
And Mr Burton smiled. That smile was his most prominent feature. It was always there. Not that it necessarily denoted mirth. Not at all. It might mean anything, or nothing. When he was in a rage he smiled, and when he was in the best of tempers; when he wished to be agreeable, and when he wished to be nasty--and he could be nasty. He was not a bad-looking man, in his way, though there was something about him a little suggesting the worst side of the Semite, which rather detracted from the general effect. It was difficult to say exactly what it was. Whether it was that his nostrils were unduly thick, or that so much of his mouth as his heavy moustache suffered to be visible was animal, or that his eyes, which were fine of their kind, had an odd trick of intently observing you when you were not looking at him, and of wandering away into space when you were, it would have needed an acute physiognomist to determine, and then that physiognomist might have been in error. Certainly there was something about Mr Horace Burton which nearly always caused an experienced man of the world, on first making his acquaintance, to glance at him a first, a second, and again a third time, and then start thinking. Perhaps it was that, in spite of his moustache, his chronic smile displayed his teeth, which were not nice ones; or because of his soft, purring voice, which, when he became excited, had a squeak in it; or because of his feline trick of touching a person, with whom he might be conversing, with his fingertips, and stroking him, when he got near enough to do it.
Mr Holland regarded his cousin in silence. The encounter did not appear to astonish him, nor to add to his pleasure either. Mr Burton continued.
'Well--have you got it?'
'Have I got what?'
'Ah--you've answered. You haven't. I see. Thanks. It was rather sharp work to raid the girl at this hour of the night, don't you think? But you always were so keen. Was she nice to you? She used to be, didn't she? You've been a lucky chap. I never could make out what women saw in you to like. A lot of them have seen something. There's Miss Broad, for instance--'
'Don't mention that lady's name.'
'Not mention her name? My dear chap!' Mr Burton placed the finger-tips of his right hand against Mr Holland's chest, to have them brushed aside as if they were some noxious insect. He went on unmoved. 'She's to be my cousin; so I'm told. Unless you've jerked her up. I hear her father kicked you out of the house; perhaps you anticipate more kicking; in a case like that you can't kick back again. So perhaps you're wise to chuck the girl. I tell you what, dear boy.' The finger-tips returned, again to be displaced. 'Marry the Bewicke girl. Get a special license to marry the girl out of hand. Then you'll get the ruby and the money too. It's the only way you will. Hearken to the words of a wise man.'
'Mr Burton, although I am so unfortunate as to be a relative of yours, I have on a previous occasion been compelled to inform you that I decline to hold communication with, or afford you recognition of any sort or kind. I repeat that intimation now. With my reasons you are well acquainted; their name is Legion. Have the goodness, therefore, to let me pass.'
'But, my dear Guy, how about our uncle's money?'
'What about my uncle's money?'
'Our uncle's; forgive the plural, Guy. Hadn't we better come to some friendly arrangement while there still is time. You'll never get the ruby out of the Bewicke woman; I know her; she's a daughter of the horse-leech; she'll see you damned first. Relinquish the chase at once--you'll have to in a few hours, anyhow--and throw yourself on my magnanimity. There's a suggestion, Guy! Give it up; withdraw at once from what you know is a lost game, and I'll present you with a thousand pounds. Push the thing through to the bitter end, and you'll get nothing.'
'A thousand?--out of a quarter of a million?'
'It would be a gift, Guy--a free gift. It isn't every man who'd present a cousin who'd used him as you've used me with a free gift of a thousand pounds.'
'Mr Burton, if the money is to be yours, I'll have none of it. I'm not disposed to be beholden to your charity, nor to you in any way, as you are aware. If it is to be mine, you'll have none of it; I know your tastes, and will not pander to their gratification. Let me pass.'
'See how different we are. If the money is to be mine--and it will be; it's as good as mine already--I'll give you a few coppers every time we meet; I'll even send you some occasionally through the post. Good-night! My love to both the ladies!'
Mr Burton hailed a passing hansom and was driven off. Mr Holland continued his promenade, but had not gone far before he was accosted from behind.
'Mr Holland! Mr Holland!' exclaimed a female voice, as if the speaker were in distress for want of breath.
'Who's that?' He turned to see. A feminine figure was hastening towards him. 'This promises to be a night of adventure. Has that little hussy become humanised and changed her mind?'
The caller approached, holding her hand to her side.
'I wish to speak to you. You know me?'
They stood close to a lamp. Mr Holland looked her up and down.
'I seem to have seen you before. You are the person who rushed into the house as I came out.'
'That is it; I rushed--from him!'
She threw out her hand with a dramatic gesture, pointing down the street.
'From whom?'
'From your cousin--from Mr Horace Burton. Oh, he is a nice fellow! If I had stayed with him much longer I should have killed him; so to save myself from killing him I rushed away.'
'My cousin's concerns are not mine. I cannot assume responsibility for anything he may do or have done. You are mistaken if you suppose I can.'
'I am not mistaken; I know all that. You men are all the same; you hang together. If your own brother drives a woman into the gutter, you say it is no affair of yours; you pass on, you leave her there. Before you open your mouth I know you cannot be responsible for what he has done. But you can make me to be revenged on him.'
'Even that I cannot do.'
'You can! I say you can!'
The woman spoke, not loudly, but with such passion and intensity of meaning that Mr Holland was conscious of a curious sensation as he heard her. She was tall and thin, about thirty, not bad looking, but precisely the type of woman the ordinary rake, seeking for a victim, would, if he had his senses about him, have left severely alone. She was distinctly not a person to be trifled with. Apparently a foreigner, because, although she spoke fluent English, there was now and then a slight accent and a curious idiom which betrayed her. Written large all over her was what, to a practised eye, was unmistakable evidence that she was of the number of those who take all things seriously, even rakes. One could easily believe that to her a promise was a promise, though it came from the mouth of a man; and since there are men who regard promises made to women as a sort of persiflage, one would have thought that gentlemen who take that standpoint would carefully avoid an individual who eyed matters of the kind from such an inconveniently different point of view. Mr Horace Burton, however, was in some respects an unusual specimen even of his class. Possibly the consciousness that he ran the risk of burning his own fingers by playing tricks with this particular fire was the lure which drew him on.
Anyhow, Mr Holland told himself that this time his cousin had caught a Tartar, and became more and more convinced of it as the woman went on.
'My name is Louise Casata; I am Corsican, as he will find, your cousin. I am the companion of Miss May Bewicke.' Mr Holland pricked up his ears at this, which the woman, with her keen instinct, perceived. 'Now do you not remember me? I was with her when you used to make love to her. I used to think you did it very well. But in those days you were fond of her. Now it is of another woman you are fond. Although you may have forgotten, do not believe she has.'
This time Mr Holland winced.
'I think that now I do remember you. You used to write letters for her and that kind of thing.'
'All sorts of kinds of things. I do everything she tells me to; I am a Jack-of-all-trades. I would act for her one day; I can act, but I am too large a size. But that does not matter; nor does it matter what your cousin has done to me, though you can guess. But you cannot guess how he has lied and juggled.'
'I think I can.'
'Then you must know him very well. In which case you have my sympathy. What does matter is what you are going to do to him.'
'I am going to do nothing to him.'
'We will see; you will see; they all will see. Be still! Let me speak. He has told me about your uncle's will--about the ruby which Miss Bewicke has. How, if you get it from her, you are to have all the money; how, if you don't, he is to have it all. I know! Very well; you will get the ruby. That's what you will do to him. He will be ruined, body and soul; though, for his soul, that was lost long ago. If he wishes to keep his body out of prison he will have to be quick out of England. He will not find it easy. There are those who are watching for him too well.'
'Are you sure of what you say?'
'Am I sure! Do I not know? It is only because they think he will get his uncle's money that he has not been in prison before. I tell you there is a convict's uniform waiting for him in more than one place. You will fit it on his back. I shall be revenged. I will go and see him when he is in gaol. Every three months he will be allowed to receive a visit. I will be his visitor. To see me will give him pleasure. I shall have such nice things to say. Oh, yes!'
Mr Holland shivered. There was that about this woman which filled him with a sense of vague discomfort.
'I don't like your way of putting things at all!'
'What does it matter what you like? To get the ruby--that is your affair.'
'How do you suggest that I am, as you phrase it, "to get the ruby"?'
'You will have to take it.'
'Take it?'
'She will never give it to you--never. She hates you. She also has been looking for revenge. Now she has her chance. You behaved badly to her. Now she will behave badly to you.'
'I deny that I behaved badly to her. If you were acquainted with all the facts you would not judge me with such hard judgment.'
'She thinks that you behaved badly to her, and, for a woman, that is enough.'
'Then am I to take it that you only think that Horace Burton has behaved badly to you?'
The woman favoured him with a look which made him realise more clearly than anything which had gone before what a Tartar his cousin had encountered. She was silent for a moment or two. When she did speak, she spoke quietly; but it was a quietude in which there was a quality which was not peace.
'You think to get me in a rage. I am not such a fool. When I am in earnest I am not so easily angered. It is no affair of yours if it is only that I think he has treated me badly. It is your affair to get the ruby; and I tell you that to get it you must take it.'
'I am so dull as not to understand what you mean when you say that I must take it.'
'I will make it clear. You have four days--four only. Good! At one o'clock to-morrow night you will come to Miss Bewicke's rooms. She will be out. It is Saturday. She goes by the midnight train to Brighton until Monday. All will be dark. The front door you will find open. You will have but to push it to enter. You will go to her bedroom; it is in front of you, the second door on the right as you go in. That door, also, will be open. The dressing-table is before the window on the left. It has many little drawers. In them are a great number of her jewels. In the bottom little drawer on the right-hand side facing the glass there is one thing only; it is your uncle's ruby signet ring. I know. I have seen it very often. She is not proud of the way in which she got it; she calls it "old Burton's scalp." It is to her a trophy which she won in battle, so she keeps it all by itself in that little bottom drawer. You have but to put your hand in; it is yours. You go away; you close the doors behind you; for you the game is won.'
Mr Holland stared. The matter-of-fact air with which the proposal was made almost took his breath away.
'You are suggesting that I should commit burglary.'
She made a contemptuous movement with her head and hands.
'It is but a word; what does it matter--a word? It is a burglary of which you will hear nothing more. I promise you that Miss Bewicke will do nothing.'
'And the morality of the proceeding, what of that?'
'Morality!' She laughed. 'The morality! Do not talk to me such nonsense! Bah! As if anyone cared for morality except for the sake of a----. But I shall not contend with you; you but amuse yourself. You understand what I have said?'
'Perfectly. Too well.'
'Very good. Then I shall see you to-morrow night at one o'clock.'
'You will do nothing of the kind.'
'No, I shall not see you, because it will be dark; but you will be there. You will find the doors open, and everything as I have said. It is already late; I must go. Good-bye.'
She went, fluttering from him up the street at a gait which was half walk, half run. He stood looking after her, a little taken aback by the abruptness of her departure.
'That woman appears to have formed a high opinion of my character. She flatters me.'
The next morning, although he was early at the rendezvous, Miss Broad was there before him. He saw her before she saw him--or thought he did--and, unperceived, as he fancied, stood and watched her. She was reading a book, sitting a little sideways, so that he saw her profile clearly. It was a brilliant morning, and she was attired for the sun. She had on a light grey silky dress, which was covered with flowers, and a huge hat, about a yard round, which matched the dress. He thought how nice she looked. Of a charm so delicate. Instinct with the essence of all things spiritual. He had been depressed as he had come through the park. The mere sight of her dispelled the clouds. The blood moved brisker through his veins. Seeing how engrossed she was by what she read, thinking to take her by surprise, he began to steal towards her across the grass--which he ought not to have done. Hardly had he stepped over the little iron fence than a stentorian voice bawled,--
'Come out of that!'
The invitation was addressed to him, as others, including Miss Broad, perceived as well as he did. It was a keeper's civil method of suggesting that he should keep off the grass, which, just there, was fenced about. He bowed to Miss Broad with a feeble smile, she merely nodding in return, without rising from her seat. As he advanced towards her along the proper gravel path, he was a little conscious that his approach had been robbed of dignity. She received him with an air which was a little frigid--still without rising--and beginning at once on a subject which he would have liked postponed.
'Well? Have you got it?'
'Have I got what?'
'You know very well what I mean. Have you got the ruby?--as you promised.'
'As I promised? My dear Letty, I think that statement is--is a little unauthorised.'
'Does that mean that you haven't got it?'
'I'm afraid it does--as yet.'
'Did you try to get it?'
'I did.'
'Did you go and see that woman?'
'I called upon Miss Bewicke.'
'And do you mean to say that she refused to let you have it?'
'If you'll allow me, I'll tell you what took place.'
He told her--a trifle lamely, but still he presented her with a sufficiently clear picture of what actually occurred--sufficiently clear, that is, to inflame her with indignation. She listened with eyes which grew brighter and brighter, and lips which closed tighter and tighter. The spiritual side of her became less obvious.
'And do you mean to say that you allowed the creature to trample on you without a word of protest?'
'I am not aware that she did trample on me.'
'Not when, according to your own account, she treated you as if you were a dog? I wonder you didn't take her into your hands and strangle her.'
'My dear Letty!'
'Of course I don't mean that; but you know what I do mean. As for that man--that Mr What's-his-name--why didn't you knock him down?'
'In a lady's room? I did suggest that if he liked to step outside I should be happy to do him any little service which was in my power.'
'And what did he do?'
'Rang the bell and requested the servant to show me out.'
'And you went? You actually allowed this man to kick you out--for that was what it came to--without a word.'
'Well, my dear, Miss Bewicke called out to me as I was going down the stairs to say that she sent her love to you.'
'Guy! you dare to tell me such a thing? You allow that creature to insult me by sending such a message, or pretending to; and then you repeat her insolence to me. The little wretch! So you are ruined.'
'Not yet. There are still about four days between me and the worst.'
'Then do you propose to allow her to have you kicked out of her apartments on each of those four days? Besides insulting me? I had hardly imagined that you were that kind of person. But one learns. Well, I suppose if you don't mind, I needn't. Though I really think you might be better off if you returned to Africa before instead of afterwards.'
'That is something like the advice which Horace offered.'
She sat up straighter.
'Did you also see Mr Burton last night?'
'He was waiting in the street when I came out of Miss Bewicke's. He congratulated me on the result of my visit.'
'Really, you appear to have had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Everybody seems to have had a kick at you. For my part, Guy, rather than allow people to ride over me rough-shod, as you appear disposed to do, I'd--I'd--steal the ruby.'
'You are in accordance with still another piece of advice which I received.'
'Guy! what do you mean?' He told her of his interview with Miss Casata. When he had finished she drew a long breath.
'Guy, I should do as she says.'
'Letty!'
'I should, I really should. So long as you get the ruby, no matter what happens, you can't be worse off than you will be if you don't get it. If you don't get it, you are ruined. You will have to go back to Africa and stay there for the rest of your life, or, at anyrate, till both of us are old; because you know you've no more chance of getting money there than you have here, and that's none at all. And you know you promised papa, and I promised papa, that you wouldn't marry till you had money of your own. And that doesn't mean a pound or two; it means a lot. He doesn't like to think you're marrying me for his money.'
'Letty!'
'Well, he doesn't; you know he doesn't. Of course I know you're not, or should I be sitting here talking to you now? But papa's different. And, anyhow, we promised. If there was nothing else to be gained, I'd like you to take it if only for the sake of spiting that actress creature. I'll teach her to send me messages.'
'But, my dear Letty, I fancy you don't quite realise that you are suggesting that I should commit a felony.'
'Felony! Don't talk such stuff and nonsense.' Her words reminded him of some of Miss Casata's of the night before. For some cause he shivered. 'Doesn't your uncle as good as say she stole it from him? And didn't that woman tell you that she's ashamed of it herself, and that therefore she hides it away all alone in a drawer? That shows that she's perfectly conscious that it's as much your property as hers. Indeed, it's much more your property. Your uncle left it to you, and she's no right to keep you out of it a single moment. And she wouldn't, you know very well that she wouldn't, if it wasn't for me. You threw her over--'
'Pardon me, I did not.'
'Then did she throw you over?'
'That's nearer the mark.'
'Really, Guy, you have an agreeable way of commending yourself to me. Then am I to understand that she regards you as her cast-off rubbish?'
'We agreed that we had made a mistake. That is the truth of the matter. There was no throwing over on either side.'
'Now, Guy, I know more than you suppose. Do you mean to deny that she resents the idea of your being about to marry me?'
'She congratulated me on the fact last night.'
'Did she, indeed? How very good of her. And pray how did she congratulate you? As if she meant it?'
'I suppose she meant it.'
'You suppose! Do you dare to tell me that you don't know quite well that her congratulations were ironical?'
'Well, I confess I had my "doots."'
'There! Didn't I say so all along? Oh, Guy, how difficult it is to get things out of you. Now, try to be equally truthful again, and tell me, on your word of honour, if you don't know that she would give you the ruby without a moment's hesitation if it wasn't for me; that is, if the fact of our being engaged to each other didn't prevent you paying attention to her?'
'I shouldn't like to put it in that way; but I think it possible that Miss Bewicke might prove more malleable if the circumstances were other than they are.'
'Precisely. That is what I mean. So promise me that to-night you will take your own.'
'My own! Letty!'
'Promise me!'
'But, my dear Letty--'
'Of course there is an alternative. You can throw me over. We, in our turn, can agree that we have made a mistake. Then you will be able to make yourself agreeable to her; and you will be able to get the ruby that way.'
'But, my dear Letty, if you will only be reasonable--'
'It is you who are unreasonable. You allow an idea to mar our lifelong happiness. Before you realise how hollow it is it will be too late. There will be nothing in front of us but dreary years of waiting. You let the cup of happiness be dashed from your hand even when it is already at your lips. I release you, Guy. I will not be a clog on you, perhaps through all eternity.'
Her tone was sombre, funereal. Mr Holland groaned.
'Oh, Lord! Your logic is as beautiful as you are. It really was worth while seeing ghosts in Africa for this!'
She stood up.
'Then go back to Africa and see some more. You shall not stay here to laugh at me. Goodbye.'
He caught her by the hand.
'Letty! How can you be so cruel.'
'Then you should do as I ask you. As you would do, without hesitation, if you really had a spark of the love you pretend to have for me.'
'I will; I'll do whatever you ask, though I'm ashamed of myself when I say so.'
'Promise that to-night you'll take your own?'
'I promise.'
She sat down again, and was as nice as she could be; he only knew how nice that was. He would have been as happy as is possible if it had not been for the thoughts which were at the back of his head, and the prospect which lay in front of him.
Unfortunately, nearly all the time Miss Broad was causing him to realise his good fortune in winning the love of such a girl as she was he was picturing himself stealing up a flight of darkened stairs, like a thief.