CHAPTER XIV.
Spennie Blunt, meanwhile, was not feeling happy. Out of his life, too,had the sunshine gone. His assets amounted to one pound seven andfourpence and he owed twenty pounds. He had succeeded, after dinner,in borrowing five pounds from Jimmy, who was in the mood when he wouldhave lent five pounds to anybody who asked for it, but beyond that hehad had no successes in the course of a borrowing tour among theinmates of the abbey.
In the seclusion of his bedroom, he sat down to smoke a last cigaretteand think the thing over in all its aspects. He could see no way outof his difficulties. The thought had something of the dull persistencyof a toothache. It refused to leave him. If only this had happened atOxford, he knew of twenty kindly men who would have rallied round him,and placed portions of their fathers' money at his disposal. But thiswas July. He would not see Oxford again for months. And, in themeantime, Wesson would be pressing for his money.
"Oh, damn!" he said.
He had come to this conclusion for the fiftieth time, when the dooropened, and his creditor appeared in person. To Spennie, he lookedlike the embodiment of Fate, a sort of male Nemesis.
"I want to have a talk with you, Spennie," said Wesson, closing thedoor.
"Well?"
Wesson lit a cigarette, and threw the match out of the window beforereplying.
"Look here, Spennie," he said, "I want to marry Miss McEachern."
Spennie was in no mood to listen to the love affairs of other men.
"Oh!" he said.
"Yes. And I want you to help me."
"Help you?"
"You must have a certain amount of influence with her. She's yoursister."
"Stepsister."
"Same thing."
"Well, anyhow, it's no good coming to me. Nobody's likely to makeMolly do a thing unless she wants to. I couldn't, if I tried for ayear. We're good pals, and all that, but she'd shut me up like a knifeif I went to her and said I wanted her to marry some one."
"Not being a perfect fool," said Wesson impatiently, "I don't suggestthat you should do that."
"What's the idea, then?"
"You can easily talk about me to her. Praise me, and so on."
Spennie's eyes opened wide.
"Praise you? How?"
"Thanks," said Wesson, with a laugh. "If you can't think of anyadmirable qualities in me, you'd better invent some."
"I should feel such a silly ass."
"That would be a new experience for you, wouldn't it? And then you canarrange it so that I shall get chances of talking to her. You canbring us together."
Spennie's eyes became rounder.
"You seem to have mapped out quite a programme for me."
"She'll listen to you. You can help me a lot."
"Can I?"
Wesson threw away his cigarette.
"And there's another thing," he said. "You can queer that fellowPitt's game. She's always with him now. You must get her away fromhim. Run him down to her. And get him out of this place as soon aspossible. You invited him here. He doesn't expect to stop hereindefinitely, I suppose? If you left, he'd have to, too. What you mustdo is to go back to London directly after the theatricals are over.He'll have to go with you. Then you can drop him in London and comeback."
It is improbable that Wesson was blind to certain blemishes whichcould have been urged against this ingenious scheme by a critic with anice sense of the honorable; but, in his general conduct of life, asin his play at cards, he was accustomed to ignore the rules when hefelt disposed to do so. He proceeded to mention in detail a few of thethings which he proposed to call upon his ally to do. A delicate pinkflush might have been seen to spread over Spennie's face. He began tolook like an angry rabbit. He had not a great deal of pride in hiscomposition, but the thought of the ignominious role which Wesson wassketching out for him stirred what he had to its shallow depths.
Talking on, Wesson managed with his final words to add the last straw.
"Of course," he said, "that money you lost to me at picquet--What wasit? Ten? Twenty? Twenty pounds, wasn't it? Well, we could look on thatas canceled, of course. That will be all right."
Spennie exploded.
"Will it?" he cried, pink to the ears. "Will it, by George? I'll payyou every frightful penny of it before the end of the week. What doyou take me for, I should like to know?"
"A fool, if you refuse my offer."
"I've a fearfully good mind to give you a most frightful kicking."
"I shouldn't try, Spennie, if I were you. It's not the form of indoorgame at which you'd shine. Better stick to picquet."
"If you think I can't pay you your rotten money----"
"I do. But if you can, so much the better. Money is always useful."
"I may be a fool in some ways----"
"You understate it, my dear Spennie."
"But I'm not a cad."
"You're getting quite rosy, Spennie. Wrath is good for thecomplexion."
"And if you think you can bribe me to do your dirty work, you nevermade a bigger mistake in your life."
"Yes, I did," said Wesson, "when I thought you had some glimmerings ofintelligence. But if it gives you any pleasure to behave like thejuvenile lead in a melodrama, by all means do. Personally, I shouldn'thave thought the game would be worth the candle. Your keen sense ofhonor, I understand you to say, will force you to pay your debt. It'san expensive luxury nowadays, Spennie. You mentioned the end of theweek, I believe? That will suit me admirably. But if you change yourmind, my offer is still open. Good night, Galahad."