Just for a moment it looked as if Ralph's pretty scheme was destined to fall to the ground. Naturally, Mary had the haziest idea of what was taking place. She could only see that the man whom she knew as Sir Vincent Dashwood was looking most terribly uneasy and casting imploring glances at Mrs. Speed.
It seemed strange that anybody should in any way be craving the good favours of the faded-looking woman, but such was the case. If she had had the so-called baronet's life in her hands he could not have regarded her with more entreaty. And, as to her part, Mrs. Speed looked from one man to the other in a dazed kind of way, as if she had not the slightest idea what was taking place. Her face turned from red to white and then to red again; she seemed to have some difficulty with her breathing.
"I--I don't understand," she gasped. "You are asking for me. It must be wrong to say that this gentleman is Sir Vincent Dashwood."
Ralph had recovered his equanimity by this time. His obvious course now was to prevent Mary from guessing at the true nature of the situation. She must not know yet. And she had been so sweet and frank and candid with Ralph that not for the world would he have her know the trick that had been played on her, yet. That confession would have to come at the proper hour, with the proper setting, say the rose garden at the dower house on a moonlight night.
"Nevertheless, I am quite correct," he said. "I assure you that the gentleman who has just come in is no other than Sir Vincent Dashwood, of Dashwood Hall. As a matter of fact, I was in the fortunate position of placing a valuable proof of his identity in his way. But the matter has developed itself so recently that it is possible few people know of the change."
"Sir Vincent Dashwood!" Mrs. Speed repeated, as if the words had some fascination for her. "And so he is Sir Vincent Dashwood. And who, sir, may you be?"
The question came about in the form of a challenge. Mrs. Speed moved a step forward as if to stand between Ralph and the other man. There was just the suggestion of protection in the movement. Ralph smiled in reply.
"It does not much matter who I am," he said. "As a matter of fact, my name is Ralph Darnley, and I came to you with a message from the late Ralph Dashwood, who, at one time, was married to your sister."
"You knew him very well?" the woman asked in the same dazed way.
"I knew him very well indeed," Ralph replied, "but that we will go into presently. In the meantime, this young lady desires a word with you. Perhaps you will be so good as to settle with her first, my business will keep till afterwards."
And Ralph moved off in the direction of the passage. Dashwood could do no more than follow him in the circumstances. He looked restless and anxious and whistled rather ostentatiously to cover his agitation.
"Upon my word you have made it very awkward for me," he said. "I never dreamed of seeing you here. Mrs. Speed is an old friend of yours, I presume."
"I have never seen her before today," Ralph said, aroused by the eagerness of the question, "I came to bring her a message as you heard. She appeared to be surprised to see me, but not more than she was surprised to hear of your new dignity."
"She didn't know it, you see," Dashwood explained. "I--I haven't told her yet. She was very good to me in my poorer days, and I am grateful for it. Still, she knows the truth now, and there is an end of it. Odd that I should find you mixed up like this with quite a different phase of my life. Don't you think so?"
"Not at all; it is not in the least odd if you knew everything. Still, it does not matter. You can afford to disclose your identity now."
"But I can't," Dashwood replied, "those lawyer people are making a great fuss. Anybody would think that they had the title and estate to dispose of. All the family recognise my position, nobody makes the least objection, and yet those solicitors ask for all kinds of additional proofs. I don't half like it."
Ralph made no reply. He knew all about the objection raised by the family lawyers and was in a position to enlighten Dashwood's mind to a painful degree.
But all this would come in time; meanwhile, the puppet must play his part in the comedy. Any further conversation was cut short by the entrance of Mary. In a tentative kind of way Dashwood wanted to know what she was doing here.
"No getting away from the old faces and the old places," he said. "I come to see Mrs. Speed, so does Mr. Darnley, and you turn up at the same time. What are you after?"
"It does not in the least matter," Mary said coldly. "I happened to be staying under Mrs. Speed's roof at the time she had the misfortune to change houses; in her hurry she took away with her certain things belonging to me. I came to fetch them. It is very simple. Are you quite ready to go, Mr. Darnley?"
"I think I will come," Ralph said impulsively. "What I have to say to Mrs. Speed will keep till another day. She seems to be very unsettled here as yet. Perhaps you will take that message to Mrs. Speed for me, Sir Vincent?"
Dashwood's anxious features cleared wonderfully. His air had hitherto been one of guarded suspicion. He had a vague idea that Ralph was concealing something. It would be no fault of his if Mrs. Speed and Darnley met again.
"Certainly, certainly," he said. "Is that your cab at the door, Mary? Let me lend you a hand with those boxes. We shall have the pleasure of seeing you down at Dashwood before long, I hope. Independence of spirit is all very well, but you will find your new life a little trying after a bit. And there is always a home for you at the Hall. Drop me a line to say when you are coming. Goodbye."
The speaker fairly bundled Mary into the cab. Ralph followed with a grim smile on his face. He was just as anxious to get away himself; it would be a pity if his scheme broke down just as everything was going on splendidly.
"What does it all mean?" Mary demanded as the cab drove away. "What connection is there between that man and Mrs. Speed? And why did she look at you as if you had been some accusing ghost? And why was our friend so afraid that Mrs. Speed should know his new title?"
"What a list of questions!" Ralph laughed. "Would you mind if I deferred the reply for a few days? Do you suspect that anything is wrong?"
"Of course I do," Mary exclaimed. "That woman has some guilty knowledge on her mind. So has Sir Vincent Dashwood. And you looked angry and confused as he came in. I know that Mrs. Speed came originally from our part, that she is the sister of Ralph Dashwood's first wife. She knows all about the family quarrel and the tragedy that followed. And she is in possession of certain papers that Vincent Dashwood needs."
"How do you know that?" Ralph asked.
"I overheard the conversation at Keppel Terrace. Vincent Dashwood came here to get those papers; I heard him say so. And he is at yonder house today for the same purpose. If that man turns out to be an impostor, why, my father----"
"I implore you not to build up on that," Ralph said warmly, "pray don't. Your father will never be Sir George Dashwood. If you come back to the Hall again in the same capacity as before, your experience----"
Mary laughed good-naturedly. Her face cleared; she discerned exactly what was passing in the mind of her companion.
"Very well," she said, "I will dismiss that contingency from my mind. Notwithstanding, I should dearly like to come back into my kingdom again. But you need not be afraid that I should revert to the old order of things. The change in me is permanent; the old pride and coolness have gone; I have learned to love and feel for my kind. Do you know what I would do if the property were mine? I would turn the dower house into a retreat for broken-down artists and authors and the like, where they could regain their strength and rest at no expense to themselves. Oh, I would do so many things to render the lives of deserving people happy."
Mary's cheeks glowed and her blue eyes sparkled with a tenderness that Ralph had never seen in them before. There was soul in the girl's face now, the soft expression without which woman's beauty counts for nothing. And from the bottom of his heart Ralph was glad. It was hard work to keep from Mary the fact that the kingdom she so longed for was in her grasp.
"It does me good to hear you speak like that," he said. "No, I must not come in, for I have a great deal to do. Give my kind regards to Connie, and say that I shall call the next time I am in town. I am very anxious to see Miss Cameron also. But you say she is coming down to the dower house on Saturday. Goodbye."
Mary's hand lay in Ralph's for a moment and their eyes met. And then the girl knew that Ralph still loved her, and the knowledge thrilled her with a sudden happiness. She did not dare to stop and analyse her feelings, but deep down in her heart she knew that when the time came Ralph would have his own way.
With a sigh of passionate relief Vincent Dashwood watched the cab drive away. He hardly knew what he had to fear, and yet he discovered the fact that he had got rid of some great danger. True, Ralph Darnley had more or less betrayed his secret to Mrs. Speed, but then that discovery might have been made at any moment.
Dashwood called impatiently to the tenant of the house. No reply came. He walked into the dining-room muttering to himself. Mrs. Speed stood there by the fireplace, her hands clasped convulsively together, her face hard and grey. Once in his life Dashwood had been in court and heard a woman sentenced to death. It came back to him now that the face of the criminal had looked exactly like Mrs. Speed's.
"What on earth is the matter with you?" he asked brutally.
"Wait a moment," the woman said hoarsely. "I was thinking, I was trying to get it all clear in my brain. It seems impossible, altogether preposterous. He told me that you were Sir Vincent Dashwood. He wasn't mad, was he?"
"Perhaps not," Dashwood grinned, "but I shall think you are if you go on like this. I didn't dare to tell you at first because you do such foolish things. You are quite good enough to have written to the old girl and told her everything. It is a very fortunate thing that Lady Dashwood regards you as being no longer in the world."
"Is it? Are you sure that Lady Dashwood thinks me dead?"
"Of course she does. I got that out of her by judicious pumping. Now that Ralph Darnley has given me away I can tell you the whole truth. I got sick of plodding in the City on small pay and hard work. One or two things you told me gave me an idea of the game. I got hold of all those letters and things and learned them by heart. Gradually, the whole story was mine. Then I pretended to you that I had something to do in the north. I didn't go north at all; I went down to Dashwood and introduced myself to the old lady. She asked me a lot of questions, and I replied to them satisfactorily. Of course, she did not recognise me as the boy I was when we left the parish seventeen years ago. And she put old Slight on me, too. Well, I satisfied old Slight, too, though at the first go-off he also regarded me as an impostor. Still, I hadn't the nerve to go the whole thing, and pretended that I desired to wait till the old lady was dead. And she was so much in love with the girl who was here just now that she allowed me to have my own way. It was only when I looked like getting into trouble over a charge of burning the Hall down that I had to speak. And blest if Ralph Darnley did not come forward and produce the very marriage certificate that I needed. It was as easy as falling off a house. Everybody gave way to me without a struggle, I stepped into the estate and the title. That is not more than a week ago. The only people who made a fuss were the lawyers. That is why I came to you for those letters. But I shall soon stop the mouths of those old landsharks, and then we shall have a good time. No more dodging about and worrying over your rent in the future, mother."
But Mrs. Speed shared no joy in the prospect of her emancipation. The grey look had not left her face and the strained terror was still in her eyes.
"I didn't mind it," she said. "At any rate, I have tried to be honest. And so you claimed the estate of the Dashwoods on the ground that you are the son of Ralph Dashwood, and all the time Ralph Darnley, as he calls himself, was looking on. Has the man any bitter grudge against you?"
"Why should he? I never saw him in my life till a little less than a month ago."
"And he permits this farce to go on! Why? What strange scheme has he in his mind? Oh, why did he not turn up before, and prevent this great temptation from being forced on you?"
The listener stared in astonishment at Mrs. Speed. A feeling of danger troubled him. He caught the woman almost roughly by the shoulder and shook her.
"What is the matter with you?" he demanded. "Why can't you speak out? Who is this Ralph Darnley that you should be in such mortal fear of him?"
"There is no Ralph Darnley," Mrs. Speed cried. "That man is Ralph Dashwood, the son of the Dashwood who married my sister and then disappeared. How do I know? Why, he is the very image of his father, as the latter was as a young fellow. Directly he came into the room just now I recognised him. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I have a portrait of Ralph Dashwood upstairs--I only turned it out last night. And when I show you that photo you will have no doubts as to who this Ralph Darnley is. Why he is allowing you to stand in his shoes is a mystery. When he comes to declare his identity he will make very short work ofyou, Vincent."
"Go up and get that photograph," the listener said hoarsely, "I'll get to the bottom of this."
The photograph was a faded one, but there was no comfort in it for the man who chose to call himself Vincent Dashwood. It was exactly as his mother had said. Making due allowances for the change in fashion and dress, it was Ralph Darnley who smiled out of the photograph into Vincent Speed's terrified eyes.
"You're right," he said, "right as rain. No use disputing the thing in the face of evidence like that. But what is that chap waiting for, why is he making a cat's paw of me like this? No wonder that he could supply me with a copy of the marriage certificate of his father's second matrimonial venture when he was the offspring of the alliance. The question is, How much longer is he going to keep me on the string? Still, nobody else knows. The best thing I can do is to push a mortgage through and make myself secure with as much money as I can lay my hands on. Perhaps I may manage to bamboozle Lady Dashwood out of a bit more. At any rate, she does not know anything of this business, for----"
"Fool," Mrs. Speed cried, "of course she knows. Hasn't she seen Ralph Darnley?"
"Well, yes, he seems to be a prime favourite at the dower house."
"Naturally. Why, as soon as her ladyship set eyes upon the young fellow who chooses to call himself Ralph Darnley she would recognise him. Do you suppose that you could deceive a mother over a thing like that? She recognised him instantly. So did old Slight. So would anybody who knew his father."
"Then why on earth didn't he kick me into the street?"
"Who can tell? Perhaps he came back to see how things were before he disclosed himself. At any rate, he has fooled you. Oh, why do you stay here like this, when at this very moment there may be a warrant out for your arrest?"
Vincent Speed, to call him by his proper name, started and changed colour. It seemed hard to lose everything just as the whole world was in his grasp. At any rate, he would not go empty away, he would bluff it a little longer. Let him have a week or so, and then the foe could do as he pleased. It would be an easy matter to raise a vast sum of money on the family estates.
"I can't go back now," he said, "I must carry on the game till I have made it worth while. And it is a strange thing to me if Lady Dashwood knows anything. She is too simple-minded to be able to keep up the deception. She would show it in her manner if she had made the discovery that I am an impostor. She is just the same to me as she ever was. Swells of that sort are not given to conceal their feelings.
"Oh, are they not?" Mrs. Speed said bitterly, "I know better. They can stoop like the rest of us when it suits their book to do so. Well, go your own way, and see what you can do, Vincent. It is just possible that when the time comes, I can find a way to win Lady Dashwood over to our side; at least, I can use her as an advocate for clemency as far as you are concerned."
"What do you mean by that?" Speed asked eagerly.
"I will not tell you," Mrs. Speed said with some show of firmness, "I have let you learn too much already. And the secret is not entirely mine. Now you go your way, and let me hear from you how things are going. But they can only go in one way. Badly as you have used me, bad son as you are, I can't forget that youaremy son. It is no fine thing to be a woman----men never suffer as we do."
Vincent Speed went away with a troubled mind and an uneasy feeling that some disaster was hanging over him. The more he thought over the disclosures of the past hour, the more they puzzled him. Well, he would have to struggle on a little longer, until he had a large sum of money at his disposal. He drove down to Bedford Row, where the office of the family solicitors was situated, and sent in his card to the head of the firm. The latter received him with somewhat cold politeness--he would like to know what he could do for Sir Vincent.
Speed went on to explain. But no response came from the clean-shaven man on the far side of the table. Mr. Morley shook his head.
"We can't do it," he said. "In the present circumstances it is impossible. Of course, we have many clients who would be prepared to lend money on the Dashwood property, but we are not yet satisfied as to--er--the legal aspect of your claim. Till that point is cleared up to our satisfaction, we must decline both to arrange the mortgage or even to part with the deeds relating to the property."
Speed protested, but protested in vain. And nothing moved the iron-faced man from his purpose; he might have been a statue for all he heeded those threats and expostulations.
In an aimless kind of way Speed stepped into the street and turned his steps in the direction of the City. It had occurred to him almost in the light of an inspiration that Horace Mayfield might be of use at this juncture. Mayfield's office was full of clients; the place had an air of prosperity. But the head of the firm looked tired and jaded as Speed came into his private room; the fingers on his cigarette shook terribly.
"Sit down," Mayfield said curtly, "I have been wondering what had become of you. I have been expecting to hear about that sum of money we spoke of. Now that you have come so easily into the estate there can be no difficulty. The man who calls himself Ralph Darnley evidently is not aware of his own identity."
"Oh, isn't he?" Speed sneered, "that's just where you make the mistake. I have had no end of an eye-opener this morning, in fact, what you might call a regular staggerer. It came from my mother. I wish that I had taken her into my confidence from the first. But perhaps I had better tell you all about it."
"It would perhaps be as well," Mayfield said grimly. "Go on."
Speed proceeded to tell his story. Long before he had finished Mayfield's grey face became still more ashen and the fingers on his cigarette trembled visibly.
"So the ship has foundered," he said. "I've got a shrewd idea as to the game that Darnley is playing. I took that man for a fool. As a matter of fact, he is the cleverest chap I ever came across. To be candid, I did his father out of a lot of money. I played much the same game with Sir George Dashwood. And it seemed to me that Ralph Darnley was going to take it lying down. He made no face; he took no proceedings. And then it came upon me like a thunderbolt. At the time he was working up a case against me. He put it into the hands of the cleverest firm of criminal lawyers in London. He arranged such a damning lot of facts before me that I was bound to sacrifice everything to save a prosecution. I scraped the money together from all kinds of sources. I robbed other clients to get it. At the moment all my speculations go wrong, of course. I'm in a desperate hole, Speed; there isn't a man in London who is in such a hole today. If I don't get £30,000 by Monday I shall have to bolt--and there is no safe place to bolt to nowadays. You will have to get me this money on mortgage."
"But I can't," Speed protested. "I went to the family lawyers just now, and they refused to have anything to do with it. Said they were by no means satisfied as to my legal position. They went so far as to declare they not only decline to raise money on the estate, but they refuse to give up the deeds."
Something like a groan came from Mayfield's lips, but his busy brain was working all the time. He saw where the difficulty lay. With Ralph out of the way he could, and would, crush Speed like a fly. He would expose the impostor without mercy, and then things would revert to the old order as they were before Ralph Darnley appeared.
An accident to Ralph Darnley! The real owner of the estate out of the way! Properly manipulated, this might mean the recovery of that money from Darnley's solicitors. It would at any rate mean the return of George Dashwood to his own once more, the putting of the screw on Mary. The idea whirled in Mayfield's mind like a dazzling wheel. He did not dare to look at Speed; he was afraid of the tale his eyes might tell.
"I must have time to think this over," he said. "Meanwhile, you had better return to Dashwood as if nothing out of the common had happened. I'll come down and dine with you tomorrow night and stay till the morning. Then get hold of this so-called Darnley, and see if you can pump any further information out of him. If you could possibly induce him to dine with us so much the better. Only, if I were you, I should not say that you had asked me. I've got a scheme working in my mind, but it is not quite safe as yet, so we need not discuss it."
"All right," Speed said moodily, "you are a much cleverer chap than I am, and I shall rely on you to find some way out of the trouble. When I think what is slipping through my fingers like this, I could commit murder."
Speed spoke vehemently, with a voice that rasped hoarsely. Mayfield started, to find that his thoughts and Speed's were running in such parallel grooves. He made a gesture of impatience, indicating that he should like to be alone. Speed lounged out, lunched freely, and, with the courage that is born of wine, took his way to the station with a resolve to return to Dashwood without delay.
Everything seemed just the same there; there was no suggestion that anybody knew of the deceit which had been practised on the old house. Even Slight appeared to be more respectful than usual, but this was all prearranged; Ralph had travelled down by the same train as Speed, and Slight was fresh from an interview with the man whom he called his master. It was after tea that Speed went over to the dower house. His heart was beating a little faster than usual; he felt his colour come and go as Lady Dashwood came into the garden with a basket and a pair of scissors in her hand. Her greeting was cold and formal as usual; but Speed could not detect any change in her manner.
"Let me hold the basket for you," he said graciously. "You are going to get some roses?"
"Yes," Lady Dashwood replied, "I prefer to arrange my own flowers. And I have a young friend coming to stay with me tomorrow, an acquaintance of Mary's."
So far all was well, for the speaker did not refer to Mary as Miss Dashwood; it was evident to Speed that he was still regarded as one of the family. He wondered if Lady Dashwood had any idea as to his real identity.
"I saw Mary today," he said. "She had been lodging with a woman I know, a Mrs. Speed. She has been very unfortunate of late, and----"
"I know Mrs. Speed quite well," Lady Dashwood replied. "Her father was a tenant on the estate many years ago. And I have heard all about the misfortune. In fact, I was in London yesterday, and called upon Mrs. Speed, who had written to me. What is the matter?"
"A thorn from one of the roses," Speed said in some confusion, "in my finger."
He was staggered at the information delivered in Lady Dashwood's quiet, level voice. Why had his mother not told him? Why had she withheld this fact from him? Perhaps she had forgotten it in the agitation of the startling disclosures of the morning. But Speed took fresh heart of grace from the news. That Lady Dashwood was not talking at him he felt certain; her voice was too matter of fact for that.
"That's a strange thing," Speed continued to say in a fairly steady voice. "I did not know it before. Let me get the roses for you from the top of the tree, they are so much finer. Have you seen anything of Ralph Darnley lately?"
"Not for a day or two," Lady Dashwood replied. "He has been in London, but I believe that he is coming back some time today, and I should not be surprised if he came over here later."
As a matter of fact Ralph put in an appearance before the basket of roses was filled. If the suspicions of Speed had been rocked to sleep, they were awakened now, when he saw the way in which Lady Dashwood smiled at the newcomer. There was real affection in her glance; the pressure of her hand was warm and clinging.
"So you have come back again," she said, "I have quite missed you. And I have felt so lonely all day. Won't you take pity on me and dine with me tonight?"
Ralph expressed his gratification at the request. There was no fault to find with his manner towards Speed. The latter was puzzled and worried.
"You have not dined with me yet," he said. "What do you say to coming in tomorrow at half-past seven? Positively, I won't take a refusal."
Ralph hesitated just for a moment. Perhaps a feeling of curiosity moved him, for he inclined his head presently with a smile.
It was hard work to keep up appearances with this man, but it was not going to be for much longer. Ralph had made up his mind to that as soon as he had parted with Mary that morning.
"I shall be pleased," he said, "Lady Dashwood, won't you let me come into the house and help to arrange those flowers? I have a woman's weakness for that sort of thing. You should see how the roses grow in California."
The pair walked towards the house and Speed lounged away. On the whole he had no cause to be dissatisfied with the afternoon's work. He was still puzzled and uneasy, but Lady Dashwood's manner had gone a long way to reassure him. But he was frightened over Lady Dashwood's visit to his mother. He was inclined to be bitter against the latter because she had not told him. The problem still filled his mind as he reached the Hall and stumbled into the dining-room. He poured himself out a large glass of whisky and soda, and took a cigarette from the silver box on the table. And there on the table beside the cigarettes lay a telegram. Speed tore it open and rapidly cast his eye over the contents:--
"Make no mistake as to Darnley tomorrow night. He must dine with you. All arrangements made and plan complete. Wire reply immediately.--Mayfield."
Speed chuckled to himself as he filled in the reply form. If Mayfield had laid his plans after his own fashion then success was bound to follow.
Speed rose next morning with a sense of his dangers and responsibilities. He had sat up late the night before, thinking things over to the accompaniment of much whisky and soda. Therefore, his head was heavy and his eyes were dull as he crept down late to breakfast. He was inclined to take the gloomiest view of the situation; the cheerfulness of Mr. George Dashwood irritated him.
Whatever Dashwood's faults were, he did not number dissipation of that degrading kind amongst them. He looked cheerful enough as he sat before the open window reading the paper and smoking an after-breakfast cigarette. He greeted Speed heartily.
"Why do you smoke here?" the latter growled. "You know I can't stand the smell of tobacco before I've had my breakfast. Go outside and finish it."
"All right, my dear fellow," Dashwood said politely. There was something almost cringing in his manner. "Sorry to annoy you. Fine morning."
The speaker appeared anxious to please. He wanted to ignore the unpleasant feeling that Speed despised him. There was little chance now of burning incense on the altar of family pride; Speed took care of that. He was at no pains to conceal the fact that he regarded Dashwood as a pensioner, dependent upon his bounty, and to be treated accordingly. Dashwood had fallen a long way indeed when he accepted the hospitality of his supplanter.
"What a confounded nuisance that old beggar is," he muttered, heedless of the fact that Slight stood by the sideboard. "I shall have to get rid of him altogether. If he had the spirit of a man he would not stay here. And they talk of the pride of the Dashwoods. Slight, why aren't there any curried eggs and some devilled kidneys? Am I always to be telling you about it? What a fine thing it is to be a pampered, lazy lout of a man-servant. What are you gaping at?"
"The eggs are under the silver cover, sir," Slight replied. "The kidneys are here over the spirit lamp, sir. The rest of your remarks are unnecessary, sir."
"Oh, are they? Did you behave in this insolent way in Sir Ralph's time?"
"Sir Ralph was a gentleman, sir. He knew how to speak to his dependents."
"Oh, did he?" Speed roared, "I suppose I don't. If I like to swear at my confounded flunkeys I'll do it. They can take it out in extra wages. If this kind of thing goes on we shall part, Slight."
"Very good, sir," Slight responded. "You have only to say the word. You may be interested to hear that only last night I had great difficulty in preventing the whole of the servants from resigning in a body."
Speed had no more to say. He was half afraid of a quarrel to the end with Slight. The latter knew too much. The studied insolence that underlay his respectful manner proved that. He moved about the room now with the air of a man who is depriving himself of the decencies of life. He poured out the coffee in a lordly way, as if under protest. Speed made advances towards conciliation.
"Mr. Mayfield is coming down tonight," he said, "he will dine here and probably stay till tomorrow. Tell the housekeeper this. Mr. Darnley will dine here also. I should like the cook to be sure of something extra. I can leave you to see to the wines."
"Mr. Darnley dining here, sir?" Slight asked with a rising inflection of voice. "Coming here tonight to meet that--I mean, Mr. Mayfield?"
"Well, why not? Any objection to make, Slight? Any little alteration to suit you? You have only to mention it."
Slight muttered a hasty apology. He had come very near to betraying himself. As he looked into Speed's bloodshot eyes he saw something there that filled his heart with a sudden fear. For the old man knew everything; there was not a single move in the game with which he was not acquainted.
But Speed had forgotten all about Slight and his little slip. A small liqueur and a cigarette put him on good terms with himself once more. It was a beautiful day, too, with a soft breeze and brilliant sunshine. Across the park the deer were moving in a dappled line; the fine old gardens were looking their very best. As Speed paced up and down the terrace one gardener and another touched their hats to him. It filled him with a feeling of pleasure--flattered self-importance. It was worth the risk to be the head of a place like this, to feel that it was all his own. And only two years before he had been the slave of the pen, the toady of a sweating employer.
Speed felt that he could never give it up again. In his heart he was a murderer, so far as Ralph Darnley was concerned. He had read somewhere that there were several different kinds of poisons that left no trace behind. One of these was the virus of the cobra. No doubt that could be obtained in London, where money could procure anything. A drop of that, and Ralph Darnley was a dead man. Nobody would be any the wiser, it would be assumed that he had died of heart failure. A comparatively small outlay might procure the poison. It would be worth while going to London to see.
In these circumstances Speed knew that he would not have hesitated. He really could not give up the place. He had always naturally been of extravagant, luxurious tastes, and now he was in a position to gratify them to the full. The new West End tailor grovelled before him; jewellers and wine and cigar merchants laid their stocks at his feet; he had only to choose the list. If he rang the bell a score of servants were ready to wait on him; the costliest wines were at his disposal.
No, it would be impossible to give it up. Speed's mind kept harping on the matter of those poisons. He must try to find out where they could be procured. Once Ralph Darnley was out of the way, nobody would trouble him any more. Once that event happened nobody would dispute his claim. But then perhaps Mayfield had an idea. Mayfield was a clever, long-headed chap, who was not disposed to be scrupulous. On the whole, perhaps it would be as well to leave things to Mayfield.
There would be plenty of time to discuss matters before dinner. There was more than time as it turned out, for Mayfield arrived unexpectedly before luncheon. He looked drawn and worried, Speed thought, but there was a grim determination in his eye that Speed liked. Mr. Dashwood met Mayfield in the friendliest possible manner. If he felt any disgust towards the newcomer he disguised it very effectively. He went off presently under a strong hint that his host and Mayfield had some important business to discuss. He was going as far as Longtown, he said, and should not be back before dinner.
"That's the way to get rid of him," Speed said as he lay back in his chair, a large cigar between his lips. Slight had placed the wine on the table and vanished. "What a useless old encumbrance he is about the house. I shall have to get rid of him, Mayfield. When I wrote my generous offer I hoped that Mary would come, too. Those confounded servants want keeping in hand, and, besides, nobody seems to care about calling here, so long as there is nothing in the shape of a mistress about the place."
"Everybody has been wise," Mayfield said cynically. "Anyway, I am glad you have not got rid of old Dashwood yet. He is going to be a puppet in the play. We shall be able to make a very effective use of him before the day is out. Nothing happened yet, no kind of move on the part of the foe, I suppose?"
"No," Speed explained, "nothing. I saw Lady Dashwood last night. She treated me just in the same way as usual, which is all the more strange if she knows who I really am."
"I don't suppose for a moment that she knows who you really are," Mayfield said. "She may know who you are not--and that's her grandson. But if Darnley was out of the way things would be quite different. Nobody would worry you any longer. How did you manage to get him to come and dine here tonight?"
"The thing worked out easily enough. I simply asked him and he said yes. He hesitated just for a moment, and then he smiled in a queer kind of way. But one thing you may be sure of--he would not have come had he known that he was going to meet you."
"Perhaps not," Mayfield grinned. "Shall we dine here tonight?"
The question was put so abruptly that Speed started. He could see that something evil was brooding in the mind of his companion. Mayfield's eyes were taking in the arrangements of the room as a general might survey a field of battle. There were three long windows in the room, leading to a kind of balcony outside. In front of one of the windows was a double screen in carved oak, which shielded the window and made it into a kind of alcove. Mayfield noted all this with grim satisfaction, for a smile played about the corners of his hard mouth.
"I asked you if we dined here tonight?" he said again.
"Oh, yes. Why not? We generally dine here--it is so much more pleasant a room than the big dining hall. Why do you ask?"
"We will come to that presently," Mayfield replied. "I take it that those windows open to the terrace outside. Is there a seat behind that screen? I mean a seat that one could lounge in."
"A big armchair," Speed whispered. "What are you driving at?"
"We shall get to the point all in good time," Mayfield said deliberately. "That screen forms a kind of cosy corner and entrance to the terrace. If a good dinner gave you a headache, and you could not stand the light, you might do worse than sit in the big chair and smoke there whilst the others sat around the table. I planned it all out coming along, with the recollection of this room in my mind. But the geographical situation is even better than I anticipated."
"What on earth are you driving at?" Speed asked with nervous irritation.
Mayfield laughed. There was something hard and grating in his mirth.
"Well, I'll put it in the form of a parable if you like," he said. "Suppose that you and I found ourselves in a very tight place. It wants no imagination to conceive that, you say. Very well, the situation is granted. We are in the warm corner, and the same man is keeping us there. I need not say I am alluding to Ralph Darnley. If I don't get him out of the way, I am a ruined man. Another few days, and I shall have to fly the country in disgrace; I shall be brought back and put on my trial. The result of that trial is a foregone conclusion and society will be deprived of my presence for some years to come. My only hope is in help of a substantial nature from you."
"That's all right," Speed whispered hoarsely, "you shall have as much as you like, if you will only show me the way to raise the money."
"That's precisely what I am going to do. Darnley must be got of the way. Then you will have all the money you need. Listen to me. Darnley dines here tonight. He will not stay late because of my presence. When the dinner is practically finished you will plead a headache, and go and sit in that big chair with the window open. From time to time you will put in a remark to show that you are still there. When Darnley rises to go I shall walk as far as the hall with him and help him on with his coat. It may happen that he will smoke a cigar that I shall select for him--a fresh cigar to carry him home. A few whiffs of that cigar will make him very giddy, for my cigars are strong. I have made arrangements for a message to come to Darnley about half past ten saying that Lady Dashwood desires to see him at the dower house tonight.
"Now, if my memory serves me correctly, the quickest way to the dower house is along the terrace here. Darnley will go that way. He will be very giddy and sleepy. You are in the alcove whilst I am talking to old Dashwood. This is where Dashwood comes in, where he will be a witness for me. As Darnley staggers along, you get out on to the terrace. You happen to have a loaded stick handy. I don't wish to suggest any connection between the two events, but it is just possible that Darnley will be found in the park tomorrow morning, with his head split open and his pockets empty. That would be a fortunate accident for us."
"Yes," Speed said with chattering teeth, "it--it would. But I don't quite----"
"Oh, the rest is quite easy. I call to you directly I fancy things are safe, and you come into the room grumbling at the light. I only want you to answer a question, and so prove that you have been in the room all the time. We don't lose sight of one another after that, not till everybody has gone to bed, when I slip out and place the body so that it can be found to look as if robbery had been the motive. Can you do it?"
Speed nodded without reply. The room had grown suddenly dark, for a thunderstorm had come up from the west. There was a lurid flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder, and then the rain came down in torrents. It was only a matter of ten minutes before the light came back again. Speed nodded once more.
"All right," he whispered, "I am a fairly powerful man, and physically, I have nothing to fear from Ralph Darnley. Besides, you say he will not be in a condition. . . . It's a dreadful thing to think of, Mayfield, but I can't give this up. I really couldn't go back to the old life of drudgery again. Only please don't revert to the subject. Let us have another glass of wine and forget all about it for the time being."
The afternoon wore on; evening came at length, and presently with it, Ralph Darnley. He entered the big dining-room where the others awaited him. His easy manner changed as he caught sight of Mayfield. Just for the moment he felt a desire to walk out of the room and leave the house. He had not expected an insult like this. But, on the other hand, he had asked no questions; he had accepted the invitation as much out of curiosity as anything else, and, besides, Mary's father was there. And Ralph had been in more questionable circumstances before now.
"I think you know Mayfield," Speed said carelessly.
"We have met on several occasions," Ralph said quietly, "we have had business relations together. But I hardly expected the pleasure."
"Well, you have nothing to regret as far as the business relations are concerned," Mayfield said with a laugh. "Still, it is possible to forget all about that for the moment. My friend, Sp--I mean, Sir Vincent, has asked me to stay here for a night. Upon my word, he is a man to be envied! It isn't often that a place like this tumbles into a man's lap. With most of us virtue is its own reward."
Ralph made some suitable reply. He was annoyed and angry with himself for coming. But there was no getting out of it now; he would have to go on till half-past ten at least. It was a relief in its way when Slight came in with the announcement that dinner was ready. That meal would occupy two hours at least.
There was everything set out just as it had been in the old days, and yet there was a subtle difference. The house lacked the presence of a mistress; it needed the refining influence of a woman. And, in his mind's eye, Ralph saw the woman there, smiling and tender at the head of the table, her eyes looking into his. It was worth all the discomfort and unpleasantness of such a meal to know that the time would not be long now. The puppets had nearly finished their parts, and the hour for their removal was close at hand.
But the dinner dragged all the same; only Mr. Dashwood made spasmodic efforts at keeping up the nagging conversation. He was fitfully gay, perhaps he noted the look of displeasure in Ralph's eyes.
The cloth was removed at length and the wines sparkled red and white under the soft, shaded lamps. Mayfield slipped out of the room presently under pretence that he had forgotten his cigar case. Directly he entered he turned to Ralph.
"A message has come for you," he said. "Lady Dashwood would like to see you at the dower house on your way home. She will not detain you long."
"In that case I must not be late," Ralph replied. He was glad of the excuse to get away a little sooner than he had expected. "What is the matter with our host?"
For Speed had started, the cigar fell from his fingers. The false message was a signal to him that the tragedy had begun, and he was expected to play his part when the time came. He placed his hand to his head and groaned.
"A bilious headache," he said, "they give me a lot of trouble from time to time. This one has been coming on all day. The light hurts my eyes fearfully. If you will excuse me, I'll go and sit in the shade behind the screen. I shall be able to hear all that is going on from there."
Ralph murmured his sympathy. All he wanted to do now was to get away. He was heartily sorry that he had come at all. Half an hour slipped away, half an hour's talk about mining speculation, to which Mr. Dashwood listened eagerly. Everything in the nature of gambling always appealed to him.
"I am afraid I must be going," Ralph said. "It is necessary for me to get away early if I am to see Lady Dashwood tonight."
"Don't go without a cigar," Mayfield urged as he proffered his case. "There are no finer cigars in the world, though I say it myself. Do try one."
Ralph held out his hand for the case. It certainly was an excellent cigar. There was something very soothing about it. Mayfield followed Ralph into the hall, only to return a moment later with the information that the visitor had departed. Then came the sound of a movement from behind the screen, followed by what might have been a moan of pain.
"Poor chap," Mayfield said with ready sympathy. "Now let me go on, Mr. Dashwood, and explain to you what I meant about those South African shares. I want to prove to you what a good thing they are, if only you have the pluck to take them and hold them."
"Provided that you've got the money," Dashwood laughed, "but, as you are aware, I have no money; fortune has been very unkind to me lately. Still, on the other hand--but you do not seem to be listening to me."
"I--I beg your pardon," Mayfield stammered, "I am listening to something outside. Let us ask Sir Vincent if his head is well enough to offer an opinion. I say, Dashwood, would you mind coming here for a moment. Your relation here says----"
"All right," came a little voice from behind the screen, "I'm coming. Why can't you leave a fellow alone? I declare I'm shaking from head to foot with cold. Let us sit here out of the draught. . . . I'm fairly stung with the cold."
The speaker's teeth were chattering, his face was a ghastly blue colour. And, for a long time afterwards, nobody spoke besides Mr. George Dashwood!