Mysterious Mr. Sabin

  CHAPTER VII

  WHO IS MR. SABIN?

  Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell was not at home to ordinary callers. Neverthelesswhen a discreet servant brought her Mr. Francis Densham's card she gaveorders for his admittance without hesitation.

  That he was a privileged person it was easy to see. Mrs. Satchellreceived him with the most charming of smiles.

  "My dear Francis," she exclaimed, "I do hope that you have lost thatwretched headache! You looked perfectly miserable last night. I was sosorry for you."

  Densham drew an easy chair to her side and accepted a cup of tea.

  "I am quite well again," he said. "It was very bad indeed for a littletime, but it did not last long. Still I felt that it made me so utterlystupid that I was half afraid you would have written me off yourvisitors' list altogether as a dull person. I was immensely relieved tobe told that you were at home."

  Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell laughed gaily. She was a bright, blonde littlewoman with an exquisite figure and piquante face. She had a husband whomno one knew, and gave excellent parties to which every one went. In herway she was something of a celebrity. She and Densham had known eachother for many years.

  "I am not sure," she said, "that you did not deserve it; but then, yousee, you are too old a friend to be so summarily dealt with."

  She raised her blue eyes to his and dropped them, smiling softly.

  Densham looked steadily away into the fire, wondering how to broach thesubject which had so suddenly taken the foremost place in his thoughts.He had not come to make even the idlest of love this afternoon. Thetime when he had been content to do so seemed very far away just now.Somehow this dainty little woman with her Watteau-like grace anddelicate mannerisms had, for the present, at any rate, lost all herattractiveness for him, and he was able to meet the flash of her brighteyes and feel the touch of her soft fingers without any correspondingthrill.

  "You are very good to me," he said, thoughtfully. "May I have some moretea?"

  Now Densham was no strategist. He had come to ask a question, and hewas dying to ask it. He knew very well that it would not do to hurrymatters--that he must put it as casually as possible towards the closeof his visit. But at the same time, the period of probation, duringwhich he should have been more than usually entertaining, was scarcely asuccess, and his manner was restless and constrained. Every now and thenthere were long and unusual pauses, and he continuously and with obviouseffort kept bringing back the conversation to the reception last night,in the hope that some remark from her might make the way easier for him.But nothing of the sort happened. The reception had not interestedher in the slightest, and she had nothing to say about it, and hispre-occupation at last became manifest. She looked at him curiouslyafter one of those awkward pauses to which she was quite unaccustomed,and his thoughts were evidently far away. As a matter of fact, he was atthat moment actually framing the question which he had come to ask.

  "My dear Francis," she said, quietly, "why don't you tell me what is thematter with you? You are not amusing. You have something on your mind.Is it anything you wish to ask of me?"

  "Yes," he said, boldly, "I have come to ask you a favour."

  She smiled at him encouragingly.

  "Well, do ask it," she said, "and get rid of your woebegone face. Youought to know that if it is anything within my power I shall nothesitate."

  "I want," he said, "to paint your portrait for next year's Academy."

  This was a master stroke. To have Densham paint her picture was just atthat moment the height of Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell's ambition. A flush ofpleasure came into her cheeks, and her eyes were very bright.

  "Do you really mean it?" she exclaimed, leaning over towards him. "Areyou sure?"

  "Of course I mean it," he answered. "If only I can do you justice, Ithink it ought to be the portrait of the year. I have been studying youfor a long time in an indefinite sort of way, and I think that I havesome good ideas."

  Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell laughed softly. Densham, although not a greatartist, was the most fashionable portrait painter of the minute, and hehad the knack of giving a _chic_ touch to his women--of investing themwith a certain style without the sacrifice of similitude. He refusedquite as many commissions as he accepted, and he could scarcely haveflattered Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell more than by his request. She wasdelightfully amiable.

  "You are a dear old thing," she said, beaming upon him. "What shall Iwear? That yellow satin gown that you like, or say you like, so much?"

  He discussed the question with her gravely. It was not until he rose togo that he actually broached the question which had been engrossing allhis thoughts.

  "By the bye," he said, "I wanted to ask you something. You knowHarcutt?"

  She nodded. Of course she knew Harcutt. Were her first suspicionscorrect! Had he some other reason for this visit of his?

  "Well," Densham went on, "he is immensely interested in some peoplewho were at that stupid reception last night. He tried to get anintroduction but he couldn't find any one who knew them, and he doesn'tknow the Princess well enough to ask her. He thought that he saw youspeaking to the man, so I promised that when I saw you I would ask aboutthem."

  "I spoke to a good many men," she said. "What is his name?"

  "Sabin--Mr. Sabin; and there is a girl, his daughter, or niece, Isuppose."

  Was it Densham's fancy or had she indeed turned a shade paler. Thelittle be-jewelled hand, which had been resting close to his, suddenlyburied itself in the cushions. Densham, who was watching her closely,was conscious of a hardness about her mouth which he had never noticedbefore. She was silent some time before she answered him.

  "I am sorry," she said, slowly, "but I can tell you scarcely anythingabout them. I only met him once in India many years ago, and I have notthe slightest idea as to who he is or where he came from. I am quitesure that I should not have recollected him last night but for hisdeformity."

  Densham tried very hard to hide his disappointment.

  "So you met him in India," he remarked. "Do you know what he was doingthere? He was not in the service at all, I suppose."

  "I really do not know," she answered, "but I think not. I believe thathe is, or was, very wealthy. I remember hearing a few things abouthim--nothing of much importance. But if Mr. Harcutt is your friend," sheadded, looking at him fixedly, "you can give him some excellent advice."

  "Harcutt is a very decent fellow," Densham said, "and I know that hewill be glad of it."

  "Tell him to have nothing whatever to do with Mr. Sabin."

  Densham looked at her keenly.

  "Then you do know something about him," he exclaimed.

  She moved her chair back a little to where the light no longer playedupon her face, and she answered him without looking up.

  "Very little. It was so long ago and my memory is not what it used tobe. Never mind that. The advice is good anyhow. If," she continued,looking steadily up at Densham, "if it were not Mr. Harcutt who wasinterested in these people, if it were any one, Francis, for whosewelfare I had a greater care, who was really my friend, I would makethat advice, if I could, a thousand times stronger. I would implore himto have nothing whatever to do with this man or any of his creatures."

  Densham laughed--not very easily. His disappointment was great, but hisinterest was stimulated.

  "At any rate," he said, "the girl is harmless. She cannot have leftschool a year."

  "A year with that man," she answered, bitterly, "is a liberal educationin corruption. Don't misunderstand me. I have no personal grievanceagainst him. We have never come together, thank God! But there werestories--I cannot remember them now--I do not wish to remember them, butthe impression they made still remains. If a little of what people saidabout him is true he is a prince of wickedness."

  "The girl herself----?"

  "I know nothing of," she admitted.

  Densham determined upon a bold stroke.

  "Look here," he said, "do me this favour--you shall never regret it. Youand the Princess are
intimate, I know: order your carriage and go andsee her this afternoon. Ask her what she knows about that girl. Get herto tell you everything. Then let me know. Don't ask me to explain justnow--simply remember that we are old friends and that I ask you to dothis thing for me."

  She rang the bell.

  "My victoria at once," she told the servant. Then she turned to Densham."I will do exactly what you ask," she said. "You can come with me andwait while I see the Princess--if she is at home. You see I am doing foryou what I would do for no one else in the world. Don't trouble aboutthanking me now. Do you mind waiting while I get my things on? I shallonly be a minute or two."

  Her minute or two was half an hour. Densham waited impatiently. Hescarcely knew whether to be satisfied with the result of his missionor not. He had learnt a very little--he was probably going to learna little more, but he was quite aware that he had not conducted thenegotiations with any particular skill, and the bribe which he hadoffered was a heavy one. He was still uncertain about it when Mrs.Thorpe-Satchell reappeared. She had changed her indoor gown for a softpetunia-coloured costume trimmed with sable, and she held out her handstowards him with a delightful smile.

  "Celeste is wretchedly awkward with gloves," she said, "so I have leftthem for you. Do you like my gown?"

  "You look charming," he said, bending over his task, "and you know it."

  "I always wear my smartest clothes when I am going to see my particularfriends," she declared. "They quiz one so! Besides, I do not always havean escort! Come!"

  She talked to him gaily on the stairs, as he handed her into thecarriage, and all the way to their destination, yet he was consciousall the time of a subtle change in her demeanour towards him. She was aproud little woman, and she had received a shock. Densham was making useof her--Densham, of all men, was making use of her, of all women. He hadbeen perfectly correct in those vague fears of his. She did not believethat he had come to her for his friend's sake. She never doubted butthat it was he himself who was interested in this girl, and shelooked upon his visit and his request to her as something very nearlyapproaching brutality. He must be interested in the girl, very deeplyinterested, or he would never have resorted to such means of gaininginformation about her. She was suddenly silent and turned a little paleas the carriage turned into the square. Her errand was not a pleasantone to her.

  Densham was left alone in the carriage for nearly an hour. He wasimpatient, and yet her prolonged absence pleased him. She had found thePrincess in, she would bring him the information he desired. He satgazing idly into the faces of the passers-by with his thoughts very faraway. How that girl's face had taken hold of his fancy; had excited insome strange way his whole artistic temperament! She was the exquisiteembodiment of a new type of girlhood, from which was excluded all thatwas crude and unpleasing and unfinished. She seemed to him to combinein some mysterious manner all the dainty freshness of youth with thedelicate grace and _savoir faire_ of a Frenchwoman of the best period.He scarcely fancied himself in love with her; at any rate if it had beensuggested to him he would have denied it. Her beauty had certainly takena singular hold of him. His imagination was touched. He was immenselyattracted, but as to anything serious--well, he would not have admittedit even to himself. Liberty meant so much to him, he had told himselfover and over again that, for many years at least, his art must be hissole mistress. Besides, he was no boy to lose his heart, as certainlyWolfenden had done, to a girl with whom he had never even spoken. It wasridiculous, and yet----

  A soft voice in his ear suddenly recalled him to the present. Mrs.Thorpe-Satchell was standing upon the pavement. The slight pallor hadgone from her cheeks and the light had come back to her eyes. He lookedat her, irresistibly attracted. She had never appeared more charming.

  She stepped into the carriage, and the soft folds of her gown spreadthemselves out over the cushions. She drew them on one side to make roomfor him.

  "Come," she said, "let us have one turn in the Park. It is quite early,although I am afraid that I have been a very long time."

  He stepped in at once and they drove off. Mrs. Thorpe-Satchelllaughingly repeated some story which the Princess had just told her.Evidently she was in high spirits. The strained look had gone from herface. Her gaiety was no longer forced.

  "You want to know the result of my mission, I suppose," she remarked,pleasantly. "Well, I am afraid you will call it a failure. The momentI mentioned the man's name the Princess stopped me.

  "'You mustn't talk to me about that man,' she said. 'Don't ask why,only you must not talk about him.'

  "'I don't want to,' I assured her; 'but the girl.'"

  "What did she say about the girl?" Densham asked.

  "Well she did tell me something about her," Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell said,slowly, "but, unfortunately, it will not help your friend. She only toldme when I had promised unconditionally and upon my honour to keep herinformation a profound secret. So I am sorry, Francis, but even toyou----"

  "Of course, you must not repeat it," Densham said, hastily. "I would notask you for the world; but is there not a single scrap of informationabout the man or the girl, who he is, what he is, of what family ornationality the girl is--anything at all which I can take to Harcutt?"

  Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell looked straight at him with a faint smile at thecorners of her lips.

  "Yes, there is one thing which you can tell Mr. Harcutt," she said.

  Densham drew a little breath. At last, then!

  "You can tell him this," Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell said, slowly andimpressively, "that if it is the girl, as I suppose it is, in whom heis interested, that the very best thing he can do is to forget that hehas ever seen her. I cannot tell you who she is or what, although Iknow. But we are old friends, Francis, and I know that my word will besufficient for you. You can take this from me as the solemn truth. Yourfriend had better hope for the love of the Sphinx, or fix his heart uponthe statue of Diana, as think of that girl."

  Densham was looking straight ahead along the stream of vehicles. Hiseyes were set, but he saw nothing. He did not doubt her word for amoment. He knew that she had spoken the truth. The atmosphere seemedsuddenly grey and sunless. He shivered a little--he was positivelychilled. Just for a moment he saw the girl's face, heard the swirl ofher skirts as she had passed their table and the sound of her voice asshe had bent over the great cluster of white roses whose faint perfumereached even to where they were sitting. Then he half closed his eyes.He had come very near making a terrible mistake.

  "Thank you," he said. "I will tell Harcutt."