CHAPTER XXIII
FAMILY JARS
Hildebrand Spencer Poynt de Burgh John Hannasyde Coombe-Crombie,twelfth Earl of Dreever, was feeling like a toad under the harrow.He read the letter again, but a second perusal made it no better.Very briefly and clearly, Molly had broken off the engagement. She"thought it best." She was "afraid it could make neither of ushappy." All very true, thought his lordship miserably. Hissentiments to a T. At the proper time, he would have liked nothingbetter. But why seize for this declaration the precise moment whenhe was intending, on the strength of the engagement, to separate hisuncle from twenty pounds? That was what rankled. That Molly couldhave no knowledge of his sad condition did not occur to him. He hada sort of feeling that she ought to have known by instinct. Nature,as has been pointed out, had equipped Hildebrand Spencer Poynt deBurgh with one of those cheap-substitute minds. What passed forbrain in him was to genuine gray matter as just-as-good imitationcoffee is to real Mocha. In moments of emotion and mental stress,consequently, his reasoning, like Spike's, was apt to be in a classof its own.
He read the letter for the third time, and a gentle perspirationbegan to form on his forehead. This was awful. The presumablejubilation of Katie, the penniless ripper of the Savoy, when heshould present himself to her a free man, did not enter into themental picture that was unfolding before him. She was too remote.Between him and her lay the fearsome figure of Sir Thomas, rampant,filling the entire horizon. Nor is this to be wondered at. There wasprobably a brief space during which Perseus, concentrating his gazeupon the monster, did not see Andromeda; and a knight of the MiddleAges, jousting in the Gentlemen's Singles for a smile from his lady,rarely allowed the thought of that smile to occupy his whole mind atthe moment when his boiler-plated antagonist was descending upon himin the wake of a sharp spear.
So with Spennie Dreever. Bright eyes might shine for him when allwas over, but in the meantime what seemed to him more important wasthat bulging eyes would glare.
If only this had happened later--even a day later! The recklessimpulsiveness of the modern girl had undone him. How was he to payHargate the money? Hargate must be paid. That was certain. No othercourse was possible. Lord Dreever's was not one of those naturesthat fret restlessly under debt. During his early career at college,he had endeared himself to the local tradesmen by the magnitude ofthe liabilities he had contracted with them. It was not the being indebt that he minded. It was the consequences. Hargate, he feltinstinctively, was of a revengeful nature. He had given Hargatetwenty pounds' worth of snubbing, and the latter had presented thebills. If it were not paid, things would happen. Hargate and he weremembers of the same club, and a member of a club who loses money atcards to a fellow member, and fails to settle up, does not makehimself popular with the committee.
He must get the money. There was no avoiding that conclusion. Buthow?
Financially, his lordship was like a fallen country with a glorioushistory. There had been a time, during his first two years atcollege, when he had reveled in the luxury of a handsome allowance.This was the golden age, when Sir Thomas Blunt, being, so to speak,new to the job, and feeling that, having reached the best circles,he must live up to them, had scattered largesse lavishly. For twoyears after his marriage with Lady Julia, he had maintained thisadmirable standard, crushing his natural parsimony. He had regardedthe money so spent as capital sunk in an investment. By the end ofthe second year, he had found his feet, and began to look about himfor ways of retrenchment. His lordship's allowance was an obviousway. He had not to wait long for an excuse for annihilating it.There is a game called poker, at which a man without much controlover his features may exceed the limits of the handsomest allowance.His lordship's face during a game of poker was like the surface ofsome quiet pond, ruffled by every breeze. The blank despair of hisexpression when he held bad cards made bluffing expensive. Thehonest joy that bubbled over in his eyes when his hand was goodacted as an efficient danger-signal to his grateful opponents. Twoweeks of poker had led to his writing to his uncle a distressed, butconfident, request for more funds; and the avuncular foot had comedown with a joyous bang. Taking his stand on the evils of gambling,Sir Thomas had changed the conditions of the money-market for hisnephew with a thoroughness that effectually prevented thepossibility of the youth's being again caught by the fascinations ofpoker. The allowance vanished absolutely; and in its place therecame into being an arrangement. By this, his lordship was to havewhatever money he wished, but he must ask for it, and state why itwas needed. If the request were reasonable, the cash would beforthcoming; if preposterous, it would not. The flaw in the scheme,from his lordship's point of view, was the difference of opinionthat can exist in the minds of two men as to what the wordsreasonable and preposterous may be taken to mean.
Twenty pounds, for instance, would, in the lexicon of Sir ThomasBlunt, be perfectly reasonable for the current expenses of a manengaged to Molly McEachern, but preposterous for one to whom she haddeclined to remain engaged. It is these subtle shades of meaningthat make the English language so full of pitfalls for theforeigner.
So engrossed was his lordship in his meditations that a voice spokeat his elbow ere he became aware of Sir Thomas himself, standing byhis side.
"Well, Spennie, my boy," said the knight. "Time to dress for dinner,I think. Eh? Eh?"
He was plainly in high good humor. The thought of the distinguishedcompany he was to entertain that night had changed him temporarily,as with some wave of a fairy wand, into a thing of joviality andbenevolence. One could almost hear the milk of human kindnessgurgling and splashing within him. The irony of fate! Tonight, suchwas his mood, a dutiful nephew could have come and felt in hispockets and helped himself--if circumstances had been different. Oh,woman, woman, how you bar us from paradise!
His lordship gurgled a wordless reply, thrusting the fateful letterhastily into his pocket. He would break the news anon. Soon--notyet--later on--in fact, anon!
"Up in your part, my boy?" continued Sir Thomas. "You mustn't spoilthe play by forgetting your lines. That wouldn't do!"
His eye was caught by the envelope that Spennie had dropped. Amomentary lapse from the jovial and benevolent was the result. Hisfussy little soul abhorred small untidinesses.
"Dear me," he said, stooping, "I wish people would not drop paperabout the house. I cannot endure a litter." He spoke as if somebodyhad been playing hare-and-hounds, and scattering the scent on thestairs. This sort of thing sometimes made him regret the old days.In Blunt's Stores, Rule Sixty-seven imposed a fine of half-a-crownon employees convicted of paper-dropping.
"I--" began his lordship.
"Why"--Sir Thomas straightened himself--"it's addressed to you."
"I was just going to pick it up. It's--er--there was a note in it."
Sir Thomas gazed at the envelope again. Joviality and benevolenceresumed their thrones.
"And in a feminine handwriting," he chuckled. He eyed the limp peeralmost roguishly. "I see, I see," he said. "Very charming, quitedelightful! Girls must have their little romance! I suppose you twoyoung people are exchanging love-letters all day. Delightful, quitedelightful! Don't look as if you were ashamed of it, my boy! I likeit. I think it's charming."
Undoubtedly, this was the opening. Beyond a question, his lordshipshould have said at this point:
"Uncle, I cannot tell a lie. I cannot even allow myself to see youlaboring under a delusion which a word from me can remove. Thecontents of this note are not what you suppose. They run as follows--"
What he did say was:
"Uncle, can you let me have twenty pounds?"
Those were his amazing words. They slipped out. He could not stopthem.
Sir Thomas was taken aback for an instant, but not seriously. Hestarted, as might a man who, stroking a cat, receives a sudden, buttrifling scratch.
"Twenty pounds, eh?" he said, reflectively.
Then, the milk of human kindness swept over displeasure like a tidalwave. This was a night for rich gifts to the dese
rving.
"Why, certainly, my boy, certainly. Do you want it at once?"
His lordship replied that he did, please; and he had seldom saidanything more fervently.
"Well, well. We'll see what we can do. Come with me."
He led the way to his dressing-room. Like nearly all the rooms atthe castle, it was large. One wall was completely hidden by thecurtain behind which Spike had taken refuge that afternoon.
Sir Thomas went to the dressing-table, and unlocked a small drawer.
"Twenty, you said? Five, ten, fifteen--here you are, my boy."
Lord Dreever muttered his thanks. Sir Thomas accepted the gutturalacknowledgment with a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"I like a little touch like that," he said.
His lordship looked startled.
"I wouldn't have touched you," he began, "if it hadn't been--"
"A little touch like that letter-writing," Sir Thomas went on. "Itshows a warm heart. She is a warm-hearted girl, Spennie. A charming,warm-hearted girl! You're uncommonly lucky, my boy."
His lordship, crackling the four bank-notes, silently agreed withhim.
"But, come, I must be dressing. Dear me, it is very late. We shallhave to hurry. By the way, my boy, I shall take the opportunity ofmaking a public announcement of the engagement tonight. It will be acapital occasion for it. I think, perhaps, at the conclusion of thetheatricals, a little speech--something quite impromptu andinformal, just asking them to wish you happiness, and so on. I likethe idea. There is an old-world air about it that appeals to me.Yes."
He turned to the dressing-table, and removed his collar.
"Well, run along, my boy," he said. "You must not be late." Hislordship tottered from the room.
He did quite an unprecedented amount of thinking as he hurried intohis evening clothes; but the thought occurring most frequently wasthat, whatever happened, all was well in one way, at any rate. Hehad the twenty pounds. There would be something colossal in theshape of disturbances when his uncle learned the truth. It would bethe biggest thing since the San Francisco earthquake. But what ofit? He had the money.
He slipped it into his waistcoat-pocket. He would take it down withhim, and pay Hargate directly after dinner.
He left the room. The flutter of a skirt caught his eye as hereached the landing. A girl was coming down the corridor on theother side. He waited at the head of the stairs to let her go downbefore him. As she came on to the landing, he saw that it was Molly.
For a moment, there was an awkward pause.
"Er--I got your note," said his lordship.
She looked at him, and then burst out laughing.
"You know, you don't mind the least little bit," she said; "not ascrap. Now, do you?"
"Well, you see--"
"Don't make excuses! Do you?"
"Well, it's like this, you see, I--"
He caught her eye. Next moment, they were laughing together.
"No, but look here, you know," said his lordship. "What I mean is,it isn't that I don't--I mean, look here, there's no reason why weshouldn't be the best of pals."
"Why, of course, there isn't."
"No, really, I say? That's ripping. Shake hands on it."
They clasped hands; and it was in this affecting attitude that SirThomas Blunt, bustling downstairs, discovered them.
"Aha!" he cried, archly. "Well, well, well! But don't mind me, don'tmind me!"
Molly flushed uncomfortably; partly, because she disliked Sir Thomaseven when he was not arch, and hated him when he was; partly,because she felt foolish; and, principally, because she wasbewildered. She had not looked forward to meeting Sir Thomas thatnight. It was always unpleasant to meet him, but it would be moreunpleasant than usual after she had upset the scheme for which hehad worked so earnestly. She had wondered whether he would be coldand distant, or voluble and heated. In her pessimistic moments, shehad anticipated a long and painful scene. That he should be behavinglike this was not very much short of a miracle. She could notunderstand it.
A glance at Lord Dreever enlightened her. That miserable creaturewas wearing the air of a timid child about to pull a large cracker.He seemed to be bracing himself up for an explosion.
She pitied him sincerely. So, he had not told his uncle the news,yet! Of course, he had scarcely had time. Saunders must have givenhim the note as he was going up to dress.
There was, however, no use in prolonging the agony. Sir Thomas mustbe told, sooner or later. She was glad of the chance to tell himherself. She would be able to explain that it was all her doing.
"I'm afraid there's a mistake," she said.
"Eh?" said Sir Thomas.
"I've been thinking it over, and I came to the conclusion that weweren't--well, I broke off the engagement!"
Sir Thomas' always prominent eyes protruded still further. The colorof his florid face deepened. Suddenly, he chuckled.
Molly looked at him, amazed. Sir Thomas was indeed behavingunexpectedly to-night.
"I see it," he wheezed. "You're having a joke with me! So this iswhat you were hatching as I came downstairs! Don't tell me! If youhad really thrown him over, you wouldn't have been laughing togetherlike that. It's no good, my dear. I might have been taken in, if Ihad not seen you, but I did."
"No, no," cried Molly. "You're wrong. You're quite wrong. When yousaw us, we were just agreeing that we should be very good friends.That was all. I broke off the engagement before that. I--"
She was aware that his lordship had emitted a hollow croak, but shetook it as his method of endorsing her statement, not as a warning.
"I wrote Lord Dreever a note this evening," she went on, "tellinghim that I couldn't possibly--"
She broke off in alarm. With the beginning of her last speech, SirThomas had begun to swell, until now he looked as if he were inimminent danger of bursting. His face was purple. To Molly's livelyimagination, his eyes appeared to move slowly out of his head, likea snail's. From the back of his throat came strange noises.
"S-s-so--" he stammered.
He gulped, and tried again.
"So this," he said, "so this--! So that was what was in that letter,eh?"
Lord Dreever, a limp bundle against the banisters, smiled weakly.
"Eh?" yelled Sir Thomas.
His lordship started convulsively.
"Er, yes," he said, "yes, yes! That was it, don't you know!"
Sir Thomas eyed his nephew with a baleful stare. Molly looked fromone to the other in bewilderment.
There was a pause, during which Sir Thomas seemed partially torecover command of himself. Doubts as to the propriety of a familyrow in mid-stairs appeared to occur to him. He moved forward.
"Come with me," he said, with awful curtness.
His lordship followed, bonelessly. Molly watched them go, andwondered more than ever. There was something behind this. It was notmerely the breaking-off of the engagement that had roused SirThomas. He was not a just man, but he was just enough to be able tosee that the blame was not Lord Dreever's. There had been somethingmore. She was puzzled.
In the hall, Saunders was standing, weapon in hand, about to beatthe gong.
"Not yet," snapped Sir Thomas. "Wait!"
Dinner had been ordered especially early that night because of thetheatricals. The necessity for strict punctuality had been straitlyenjoined upon Saunders. At some inconvenience, he had ensured strictpunctuality. And now--But we all have our cross to bear in thisworld. Saunders bowed with dignified resignation.
Sir Thomas led the way into his study.
"Be so good as to close the door," he said.
His lordship was so good.
Sir Thomas backed to the mantelpiece, and stood there in theattitude which for generations has been sacred to the elderlyBriton, feet well apart, hands clasped beneath his coat-tails. Hisstare raked Lord Dreever like a searchlight.
"Now, sir!" he said.
His lordship wilted before the gaze.
"The fact is, uncle--"
&nbs
p; "Never mind the facts. I know them! What I require is anexplanation."
He spread his feet further apart. The years had rolled back, and hewas plain Thomas Blunt again, of Blunt's Stores, dealing with anerring employee.
"You know what I mean," he went on. "I am not referring to thebreaking-off of the engagement. What I insist upon learning is yourreason for failing to inform me earlier of the contents of thatletter."
His lordship said that somehow, don't you know, there didn't seem tobe a chance, you know. He had several times been on the point--but--well,some-how--well, that's how it was.
"No chance?" cried Sir Thomas. "Indeed! Why did you require thatmoney I gave you?"
"Oh, er--I wanted it for something."
"Very possibly. For what?"
"I--the fact is, I owed it to a fellow."
"Ha! How did you come to owe it?"
His lordship shuffled.
"You have been gambling," boomed Sit Thomas "Am I right?"
"No, no. I say, no, no. It wasn't gambling. It was a game of skill.We were playing picquet."
"Kindly refrain from quibbling. You lost this money at cards, then,as I supposed. Just so."
He widened the space between his feet. He intensified his glare. Hemight have been posing to an illustrator of "Pilgrim's Progress" fora picture of "Apollyon straddling right across the way."
"So," he said, "you deliberately concealed from me the contents ofthat letter in order that you might extract money from me underfalse pretenses? Don't speak!" His lordship had gurgled, "You did!Your behavior was that of a--of a--"
There was a very fair selection of evil-doers in all branches ofbusiness from which to choose. He gave the preference to the race-track.
"--of a common welsher," he concluded. "But I won't put up with it.No, not for an instant! I insist upon your returning that money tome here and now. If you have not got it with you, go and fetch it."
His lordship's face betrayed the deepest consternation. He had beenprepared for much, but not for this. That he would have to undergowhat in his school-days he would have called "a jaw" wasinevitable, and he had been ready to go through with it. It might hurthis feelings, possibly, but it would leave his purse intact. Aghastly development of this kind he had not foreseen.
"But, I say, uncle!" he bleated.
Sir Thomas silenced him with a grand gesture.
Ruefully, his lordship produced his little all. Sir Thomas took itwith a snort, and went to the door.
Saunders was still brooding statuesquely over the gong.
"Sound it!" said Sir Thomas.
Saunders obeyed him, with the air of an unleashed hound.
"And now," said Sir Thomas, "go to my dressing-room, and place thesenotes in the small drawer of the table."
The butler's calm, expressionless, yet withal observant eye took inat a glance the signs of trouble. Neither the inflated air of SirThomas nor the punctured-balloon bearing of Lord Dreever escapedhim.
"Something h'up," he said to his immortal soul, as he movedupstairs. "Been a fair old, rare old row, seems to me!"
He reserved his more polished periods for use in public. Inconversation with his immortal soul, he was wont to unbend somewhat.