CHAPTER XIII
RIGHT OF CONQUEST
What has been related of Mr. Saffron's life before he ascended the throneon which he still sat in the Tower represented all that Beaumaroy knew ofhis old friend before they met--indeed he knew scarcely as much. He toldthe brief story to Doctor Mary in the parlor. She heard him listlessly;all that was not much to the point on which her thoughts were set, anddid not answer the riddle which the scene in the Tower put to her. Shewas calm now--and ashamed that she had ever lost her calmness.
"Well, there was the situation as I understood it when I took on thejob--or quite soon afterwards. He thought that he was being pursued; in asense he was. If these Radbolts found out the truth, they certainly wouldpursue him, try to shut him up, and prevent him from making away withhis money or leaving it to anybody else. I didn't at all know at firstwhat a tidy lot he had. He hated the Radbolts; even after he ceased toknow them as cousins, he remained very conscious of them always; theywere enemies, spies, secret service people on his track--poor old boy!Well, why should they have him and his money? I didn't see it. I don'tsee it to this day."
Mary was in Mr. Saffron's armchair. Beaumaroy stood before the fire. Shelooked up at him.
"They seem to have more right than anybody else. And you know--youknew--that he was mad."
"His being mad gives them no right! Oh, well, it's no use arguing. In theend I suppose they had rights--of a kind; a right by law, Isuppose--though I never knew the law and don't want to--to shut the oldman up, and make him damned miserable, and get the money for themselves.That sounds just the sort of right the law does give people over otherpeople--because Aunt Betsy married Uncle John fifty years ago, and wasprobably infernally sorry for it!"
Mary smiled. "A matter of principle with you, was it, Mr. Beaumaroy?"
"No--instinct, I think. It's my instinct to be against the proper thing,the regular thing, the thing that deals hardly with an individual in thename of some highly nebulous general principle."
"Like discipline?" she put in, with a reminiscence ofMajor-General Punnit.
He nodded. "Yes, that's one case of it. And then, the situation amusedme. I think that had more to do with it than anything else at first. Itamused me to play up to his delusions. I suggested the shawl as useful onour walks--and thereby got him to take wholesome exercise; that ought toappeal to you, Doctor! I got him the combination knife-and-fork; thatmade him enjoy his meals--also good for him, Doctor! But I didn't dothese things because they were good for him, but because they amused me.They never amused Hooper, he's a dull, surly, and--I'm inclined tobelieve--treacherous dog."
"Who is he?"
"Sacked from the Army--sent to quod. Just a jail-bird whom I've keptloose. But the things did amuse me, and it was that at first. Butthen--" he paused.
Looking at him again, Mary saw a whimsical tenderness expressed in hiseyes and smile. "The poor chap was so overwhelmingly grateful. He thoughtme the one indubitably faithful adherent that he had. And so I wastoo--though not in the way he thought. And he trusted me absolutely.Well, was I to give him up--to the law, and the Radbolts, and the jailersof an asylum--a man who trusted me like that?"
"But he was mad," objected Doctor Mary obstinately.
"A man has his feelings, or may have, even when he's mad. He trusted meand he loved me, Doctor Mary. Won't you allow that I've my case--so far?"She made no sign of assent. "Well then, I loved him--does that go anybetter with you? If it doesn't, I'm in a bad way; be cause what I'mgiving you now is the strong part of my case."
"I don't see why you should put what you call your case to me at all, Mr.Beaumaroy."
He looked at her in a reproachful astonishment. "But you seemed touchedby--by what we saw in the Tower. I thought the old man's death andfaith had appealed to you. It seems to me that people can't go througha thing like that together without feeling--well, some sort ofcomradeship. But if you've no sort of feeling of that kind--well, Idon't want to put my case."
"Go on with your case," said Doctor Mary, after a moment's silence.
"Though it isn't really that I want to put a case for myself at all. ButI don't mind owning that I'd like you to understand about it--before Iclear out."
She looked at him questioningly, but put no spoken question. Beaumaroysat down on the stool opposite to her, and poked the fire.
"I can't get away from it, can I? There was something else you saw inthe Tower, wasn't there, and I dare say that you connect it with aconversation that we had together a little while ago? Well, I'll tell youabout that. Oh, well, of course I must, mustn't I?"
"I should like to hear." Her bitterness was gone; he had come now tothe riddle.
"He was a King to himself," Beaumaroy resumed thoughtfully, "but in factI was king over him. I could do anything I liked with him. I had him. Ipossessed him--by right of conquest. The right of conquest seemed a bigthing to me; it was about the only sort of right that I'd seen anythingof for three years and more. Yes, it was--and is--a big thing, a realthing--the one right in the whole world that there's no doubt about.Other rights are theories, views, preachments! Right of conquest is afact. I had it. I could make him do what I liked, say what I liked, signwhat I liked. Do you begin to see where I found myself? I say foundmyself, because really it was a surprise to me. At first I thought he wasin a pretty small way--he only gave me a hundred a year besides my keep.True, he always talked of his money, but I set that down mainly to hisdelusion. But it was true that he had a lot--really a lot. A good bitbesides what you saw in there; he must have speculated cleverly, I think,he couldn't have made it all in his business. Doctor Mary, how much golddo you think there is in the grave in there?"
"I haven't the least idea. Thousands? Where did you get it?"
"Oh yes, thousands--and thousands. We got it mostly from the aliens inthe East End; they'd hoarded it, you know; but they were willing to sellat a premium. The premium rose up to last month; then it dropped alittle--not much, though, because we'd exhausted some of the most obvioussources. I carried every sovereign of that money in the grave down fromLondon in my brown bag." He smiled reflectively. "Do you know how much athousand sovereigns weigh, Doctor Mary?"
"I haven't the least idea," said Mary again. She was leaning forwardnow, listening intently, and watching Beaumaroy's face withabsorbed interest.
"Seventeen and three-quarter pounds avoirdupois--that's the correctweight. The first time or two we didn't get much--they were still shy ofus. But after that we made some heavy; hauls. Twice we brought down closeon two thousand. Once there was three thousand, almost to a sovereign.Even men trained to the work--bullion porters, as they call them at theBank of England--reckon five bags of a thousand, canvas bags not muchshort of a foot long and six inches across, you know--they reckon five ofthem a full load--and wouldn't care to go far with them either. Theequivalent of three of them was quite enough for me to carry from Inkstonstation up to the Cottage--trying to look as if I were carrying nothingof any account! One hasn't got to pretend to be carrying nothing in fullmarching kit--nor to carry it all in one hand. And he'd never trusthimself in a cab--might be kidnapped, you see! I don't know exactly, butfrom what he said I reckon we've brought down, on our Wednesday trips,about two-thirds of all he had. Now you've probably gathered what hisidea was. He knew he was disguised as Saffron--and very proud of the wayhe lived up to the character. As Saffron, he realized the money bydriblets--turned his securities into notes, his notes into gold. But he'dlost all knowledge that the money was his own--made by himself--himselfSaffron. He thought it was saved out of the wreck of his Imperialfortune. It was to be dedicated to restoring the Imperial cause. Hehimself could not attempt, at present, to get out of England, least ofall carrying pots of gold coin. But he believed that I could. I was to goto Morocco and so on, and raise the country for him, taking as much as Icould, and coming back for more! He had no doubt at all of my comingback! In fact it wouldn't have been much easier for me to get out of thecountry with the money than it would have been for t
he authentic Kaiserhimself. But, Doctor Mary, what would have been possible was for me to gosomewhere else, or even back to the places we knew of, for no questionswere asked there--put that money back into notes, or securities in my ownname, and tell him I had carried out the Morocco programme. He had nosense of time, he would have suspected nothing."
"That would have been mere and sheer robbery," said Mary.
"Oh yes, it would," Beaumaroy agreed. "And, if I'd done it, and desertedhim, I should have deserved to be hanged. That was hardly my question. Aslong as he lived, I meant to stick by him; but he was turned seventy,frail, with heart-disease, and, as I understand, quite likely to sinkinto general paralysis. Well, if I was to exercise my right of conquestand get the fruits of conquest, two ways seemed open. There could be awill; you'll remember my consulting you on that point and your reply?"
"Did he make a will?" asked Mary quickly.
"No. A will was open to serious objections. Even supposing yourevidence--which, of course, I wanted in case of need--had beensatisfactory, a fight with the Radbolts would have been unpleasant.Worse than that--as long as I lived I should have been blackmailed bySergeant Hooper, who knew Mr. Saffron's condition, though he didn't knowabout the money here. Even before you found out about my poor oldfriend, I had decided against a will--though, perhaps, I might havesquared the Radbolts by just taking this little place--and itscontents--and letting them take the rest. That too became impossibleafter your discovery. There remained then, the money in the Tower. Icould make quite sure of that, wait for his death, and then enjoy it.And, upon my word, why shouldn't I? He'd have been much gratified by mygoing to Morocco; and he'd certainly much sooner that I had themoney--if it couldn't go to Morocco--than that the Radbolts should getit. That was the way the question presented itself to me; and I'm a poorman, with no obvious career before me. The right of conquest appealed tome strongly, Doctor Mary."
"I can see that you may have been greatly tempted," said Mary in a graveand troubled voice. "And the circumstances did enable you to make excusesfor what you thought of doing."
"Excuses? You won't even go so far as to call it a doubtful case? Onethat a casuist could argue either way?" Beaumaroy was smiling again now.
"Even if I did, men of--"
"Yes, Doctor Mary--of sensitive honor!"
"Decide doubtful cases against themselves in money matters."
"Oh, I say, is that doctrine current in business circles? I've been inbusiness myself, and I doubt it."
"They do--men of real honor," Mary persisted.
"So that's how great fortunes are made? That's how individuals--to saynothing of nations--rise to wealth and power! And I never knew it,"Beaumaroy reflected in a gentle voice. His eye caught Mary's, and shegave a little laugh. "By deciding doubtful cases against themselves!Dear me, yes!"
"I didn't say they rose to greatness and power."
"Then the people who do rise to greatness and power--and thenations--don't they go by right of conquest, Doctor Mary? Don't theydecide cases in their own favor?"
"Did you really mean to--to take the money?"
"I'll tell you as near as I can. I meant to do my best for my old man. Imeant him to live as long as he could, and to live free, unpersecuted, ashappy as he could be made. I meant that, because I loved him, and heloved me. Well, I've lost him; I'm alone in the world." The last wordswere no appeal to Mary; for the moment he seemed to have forgotten her;he was speaking out of his own heart to himself. Yet the words therebytouched her to a livelier pity; you are very lonely when there is nobodyto whom you have affection's right to complain of loneliness.
"But after that, if I saw him to his end in peace, if I brought that off,well, then I rather think that I should have stuck to the money. Yes, Irather think so."
"You've managed to mix things up so!" Mary complained. "Your devotion toMr. Saffron--for that I could forgive you keeping his secret, and foolingme, and all of us. But then you mix that up with the money!"
"It was mixed up with it. I didn't do the mixing."
"What are you going to do now?" she asked with a sudden curiosity.
"Oh, now? Now the thing's all different. You've seen, you know, and evenI can't offer you a partnership in the cash, can I? If I weren't aninfernally poor conspirator, I should have covered up the Captain'sgrave, and made everything neat and tidy before I came to fetch you,because I knew he might go back to the Tower. On his bad nights he alwaysmade me open the grave, and spread out the money, make a show of it, youknow. Then it had to be put back in bags--the money bags lived in thebrown leather bag--and the grave had to be fastened down. Altogether itwas a good bit of work. I'd just got it open, and the money spread out,when he turned bad--a sort of collapse like the one you saw; and I was sobusy getting him to bed that I forgot the cursed grave and themoney--just as I forgot to put away the knife-and-fork before you calledthe first time, and you saw through me!"
"If you're not a good conspirator, it's another reason for notconspiring, Mr. Beaumaroy. I know you conspired for him first ofall, but--"
"Well, he's safe, he's at peace. It can all come out now, and it must.You know, and you must tell the truth. I don't know whether they can putme in prison. I should hardly think they'd bother, if they get the moneyall right. In any case I don't care much. Lord, what a lot of people'llsay 'I told you so--bad egg, that Beaumaroy!' No, I don't care. My oldman's safe; I've won my big game after all, Doctor Mary!"
"I don't believe you cared about the money really!" she cried. "Thatreally was a game to you, I think, a trick you liked to play on usrespectables!"
He smiled at her confidentially. "I do like beating the respectables," headmitted. Then he looked at his watch. "I must do what has to be done forthe old man. But it's late--hard on one o'clock. You must be tired--andit's a sad job."
"No, I'll help you. I--I've been in hospitals, you know. Only do gofirst, and cover up that horrible place, and hide that wretched moneybefore I go into the Tower. Will you?" She gave a shiver, as herimagination renewed the scene which the Tower held.
"You needn't come into the Tower at all. He's as light as a feather--I'velifted him into bed often. I can lift him now. If you really wish tohelp, will you go up to his room, and get things ready?" As he spoke, hecrossed to the sideboard, took up a bedroom candlestick, and lighted itfrom one that stood on the table. "And you'll see about the body beingtaken to the mortuary, won't you? I shall communicate with theRadbolts--fully; they'll take charge of the funeral, I suppose. Well, hewon't know anything about that now, thank God!" There was the slightesttremor in his voice as he spoke.
Mary did not take the candle. "I've said some hard things to you, Mr.Beaumaroy. I dare say I've sounded very self-righteous." He raised hishand in protest, but she went on: "So I should like to say one differentthing to you, since we're to part after to-night. You've shown yourself agood friend, good and true as a man could have."
"I loved my old man," said Beaumaroy.
It was his only plea. To Mary it seemed a good one. He had loved his poorold madman; and he had served him faithfully. "Yes, the old man found agood friend in you; I hope you will find good friends too. Oh, I do hopeit! Because that's what you want."
"I should be very glad if I could think that, in spite of everything, Ihad found one here in this place--even although she can be a friend onlyin memory."
Mary paused for a moment, then gave him her hand. "I know you muchbetter after tonight. My memory of you will be a kind one. Now toour work!"
"Yes--and thank you. I thank you more deeply than you imagine."
He gave her the candle and followed her to the passage.
"You know where the room is. I shall put the--the place--straight, andthen bring him up. I sha'n't be many minutes--ten, perhaps. The cover'srather hard to fit."
Mary nodded from the top of the stairs. Strained by the events of thenight, and by the talk to Beaumaroy, she was again near tears; her eyeswere bright in the light of the candle, and told of nervous excitement.Beaumar
oy went back into the parlor, on his way to the Tower. Suddenly hestopped and stood dead still, listening intently.
Mary busied herself upstairs, making her preparations with practicedskill and readiness. Her agitation did not interfere with her work--there her training told--but of her inner mind it had full possession.She was afraid to be alone--there in that cottage. She longed for anotherclasp of that friendly hand. Well, he would come soon; but he must bringhis burden with him. When she had finished what she had to do, she satdown, and waited.
Beaumaroy waited too, outside the door leading to the Tower.