Page 19 of The Little Nugget


  Chapter 17

  I was given no leisure for wondering how Cynthia's mother came tobe in the grounds of Sanstead House, for her companion, almostbefore the car had stopped, jumped out and clutched me by the arm,at the same time uttering this cryptic speech: 'Whatever he offersI'll double!'

  She fixed me, as she spoke, with a commanding eye. She was a woman,I gathered in that instant, born to command. There seemed, at anyrate, no doubt in her mind that she could command me. If I hadbeen a black beetle she could not have looked at me with a morescornful superiority. Her eyes were very large and of a rich, fierybrown colour, and it was these that gave me my first suspicion ofher identity. As to the meaning of her words, however, I had no clue.

  'Bear that in mind,' she went on. 'I'll double it if it's amillion dollars.'

  'I'm afraid I don't understand,' I said, finding speech.

  She clicked her tongue impatiently.

  'There's no need to be so cautious and mysterious. This lady is afriend of mine. She knows all about it. I asked her to come. I'mMrs Elmer Ford. I came here directly I got your letter. I thinkyou're the lowest sort of scoundrel that ever managed to keep outof gaol, but that needn't make any difference just now. We're hereto talk business, Mr Fisher, so we may as well begin.'

  I was getting tired of being taken for Smooth Sam.

  'I am not Smooth Sam Fisher.'

  I turned to the automobile. 'Will you identify me, Mrs Drassilis?'

  She was regarding me with wide-open eyes.

  'What on earth are you doing down here? I have been tryingeverywhere to find you, but nobody--'

  Mrs Ford interrupted her. She gave me the impression of being awoman who wanted a good deal of the conversation, and who did notcare how she got it. In a conversational sense she thugged MrsDrassilis at this point, or rather she swept over her like sometidal wave, blotting her out.

  'Oh,' she said fixing her brown eyes, less scornful now but stillimperious, on mine. 'I must apologize. I have made a mistake. Itook you for a low villain of the name of Sam Fisher. I hope youwill forgive me. I was to have met him at this exact spot justabout this time, by appointment, so, seeing you here, I mistookyou for him.'

  'If I might have a word with you alone?' I said.

  Mrs Ford had a short way with people. In matters concerning herown wishes, she took their acquiescence for granted.

  'Drive on up to the house, Jarvis,' she said, and Mrs Drassiliswas whirled away round the curve of the drive before she knew whathad happened to her.

  'Well?'

  'My name is Burns,' I said.

  'Now I understand,' she said. 'I know who you are now.' Shepaused, and I was expecting her to fawn upon me for my gallantservice in her cause, when she resumed in quite a differentstrain.

  'I can't think what you can have been about, Mr Burns, not to havebeen able to do what Cynthia asked you. Surely in all these weeksand months.... And then, after all, to have let this Fisherscoundrel steal him away from under your nose...!'

  She gave me a fleeting glance of unfathomable scorn. And when Ithought of all the sufferings I had gone through that term owingto her repulsive son and, indirectly, for her sake, I felt thatthe time had come to speak out.

  'May I describe the way in which I allowed your son to be stolenaway from under my nose?' I said. And in well-chosen words, Isketched the outline of what had happened. I did not omit to laystress on the fact that the Nugget's departure with the enemy wasentirely voluntary.

  She heard me out in silence.

  'That was too bad of Oggie,' she said tolerantly, when I hadceased dramatically on the climax of my tale.

  As a comment it seemed to me inadequate.

  'Oggie was always high-spirited,' she went on. 'No doubt you havenoticed that?'

  'A little.'

  'He could be led, but never driven. With the best intentions, nodoubt, you refused to allow him to leave the stables that nightand return to the house, and he resented the check and took thematter into his own hands.' She broke off and looked at her watch.'Have you a watch? What time is it? Only that? I thought it mustbe later. I arrived too soon. I got a letter from this man Fisher,naming this spot and this hour for a meeting, when we coulddiscuss terms. He said that he had written to Mr Ford, appointingthe same time.' She frowned. 'I have no doubt he will come,' shesaid coldly.

  'Perhaps this is his car,' I said.

  A second automobile was whirring up the drive. There was a shoutas it came within sight of us, and the chauffeur put on the brake.A man sprang from the tonneau. He jerked a word to the chauffeur,and the car went on up the drive.

  He was a massively built man of middle age, with powerful shoulders,and a face--when he had removed his motor-goggles very like any oneof half a dozen of those Roman emperors whose features have comedown to us on coins and statues, square-jawed, clean-shaven, andaggressive. Like his late wife (who was now standing, drawn up toher full height, staring haughtily at him) he had the air of oneborn to command. I should imagine that the married life of thesetwo must have been something more of a battle even than most marriedlives. The clashing of those wills must have smacked of a collisionbetween the immovable mass and the irresistible force.

  He met Mrs Ford's stare with one equally militant, then turned tome.

  'I'll give you double what she has offered you,' he said. Hepaused, and eyed me with loathing. 'You damned scoundrel,' headded.

  Custom ought to have rendered me immune to irritation, but it hadnot. I spoke my mind.

  'One of these days, Mr Ford,' I said, 'I am going to publish adirectory of the names and addresses of the people who havemistaken me for Smooth Sam Fisher. I am not Sam Fisher. Can yougrasp that? My name is Peter Burns, and for the past term I havebeen a master at this school. And I may say that, judging fromwhat I know of the little brute, any one who kidnapped your son aslong as two days ago will be so anxious by now to get rid of himthat he will probably want to pay you for taking him back.'

  My words almost had the effect of bringing this divorced coupletogether again. They made common cause against me. It was probablythe first time in years that they had formed even a temporaryalliance.

  'How dare you talk like that!' said Mrs Ford. 'Oggie is a sweetboy in every respect.'

  'You're perfectly right, Nesta,' said Mr Ford. 'He may wantintelligent handling, but he's a mighty fine boy. I shall makeinquiries, and if this man has been ill-treating Ogden, I shallcomplain to Mr Abney. Where the devil is this man Fisher?' hebroke off abruptly.

  'On the spot,' said an affable voice. The bushes behind me parted,and Smooth Sam stepped out on to the gravel.

  I had recognized him by his voice. I certainly should not havedone so by his appearance. He had taken the precaution of 'makingup' for this important meeting. A white wig of indescribablerespectability peeped out beneath his black hat. His eyes twinkledfrom under two penthouses of white eyebrows. A white moustachecovered his mouth. He was venerable to a degree.

  He nodded to me, and bared his white head gallantly to Mrs Ford.

  'No worse for our little outing, Mr Burns, I am glad to see. MrsFord, I must apologize for my apparent unpunctuality, but I wasnot really behind time. I have been waiting in the bushes. Ithought it just possible that you might have brought unwelcomemembers of the police force with you, and I have been scouting, asit were, before making my advance. I see, however, that all iswell, and we can come at once to business. May I say, before webegin, that I overheard your recent conversation, and that Ientirely disagree with Mr Burns. Master Ford is a charming boy.Already I feel like an elder brother to him. I am loath to partwith him.'

  'How much?' snapped Mr Ford. 'You've got me. How much do youwant?'

  'I'll give you double what he offers,' cried Mrs Ford.

  Sam held up his hand, his old pontifical manner intensified by thewhite wig.

  'May I speak? Thank you. This is a little embarrassing. When Iasked you both to meet me here, it was not for the purpose ofholding an auction. I had a straight-for
ward business propositionto make to you. It will necessitate a certain amount of plain andsomewhat personal speaking. May I proceed? Thank you. I will be asbrief as possible.'

  His eloquence appeared to have had a soothing effect on the twoFords. They remained silent.

  'You must understand,' said Sam, 'that I am speaking as an expert.I have been in the kidnapping business many years, and I know whatI am talking about. And I tell you that the moment you two gotyour divorce, you said good-bye to all peace and quiet. Blessyou'--Sam's manner became fatherly--'I've seen it a hundredtimes. Couple get divorced, and, if there's a child, what happens?They start in playing battledore-and-shuttlecock with him. Wifesneaks him from husband. Husband sneaks him back from wife. Aftera while along comes a gentleman in my line of business, aprofessional at the game, and he puts one across on both theamateurs. He takes advantage of the confusion, slips in, and getsaway with the kid. That's what has happened here, and I'm going toshow you the way to stop it another time. Now I'll make you aproposition. What you want to do'--I have never heard anything sosoothing, so suggestive of the old family friend healing anunfortunate breach, as Sam's voice at this juncture--'what youwant to do is to get together again right quick. Never mind thepast. Let bygones be bygones. Kiss and be friends.'

  A snort from Mr Ford checked him for a moment, but he resumed.

  'I guess there were faults on both sides. Get together and talk itover. And when you've agreed to call the fight off and start fairagain, that's where I come in. Mr Burns here will tell you, if youask him, that I'm anxious to quit this business and marry andsettle down. Well, see here. What you want to do is to give me asalary--we can talk figures later on--to stay by you and watchover the kid. Don't snort--I'm talking plain sense. You'd a sightbetter have me with you than against you. Set a thief to catch athief. What I don't know about the fine points of the game isn'tworth knowing. I'll guarantee, if you put me in charge, to seethat nobody comes within a hundred miles of the kid unless he hasan order-to-view. You'll find I earn every penny of that salary ...Mr Burns and I will now take a turn up the drive while you thinkit over.'

  He linked his arm in mine and drew me away. As we turned thecorner of the drive I caught a glimpse over my shoulder of theLittle Nugget's parents. They were standing where we had leftthem, as if Sam's eloquence had rooted them to the spot.

  'Well, well, well, young man,' said Sam, eyeing me affectionately,'it's pleasant to meet you again, under happier conditions thanlast time. You certainly have all the luck, sonny, or you wouldhave been badly hurt that night. I was getting scared how thething would end. Buck's a plain roughneck, and his gang are as badas he is, and they had got mighty sore at you, mighty sore. Ifthey had grabbed you, there's no knowing what might not havehappened. However, all's well that ends well, and this little gamehas surely had the happy ending. I shall get that job, sonny. Oldman Ford isn't a fool, and it won't take him long, when he gets tothinking it over, to see that I'm right. He'll hire me.'

  'Aren't you rather reckoning without your partner?' I said. 'Wheredoes Buck MacGinnis come in on the deal?'

  Sam patted my shoulder paternally.

  'He doesn't, sonny, he doesn't. It was a shame to do it--it waslike taking candy from a kid--but business is business, and I wasreluctantly compelled to double-cross poor old Buck. I sneaked theNugget away from him next day. It's not worth talking about; itwas too easy. Buck's all right in a rough-and-tumble, but when itcomes to brains he gets left, and so he'll go on through life,poor fellow. I hate to think of it.'

  He sighed. Buck's misfortunes seemed to move him deeply.

  'I shouldn't be surprised if he gave up the profession after this.He has had enough to discourage him. I told you about whathappened to him that night, didn't I? No? I thought I did. Why,Buck was the guy who did the Steve Brodie through the roof; and,when we picked him up, we found he'd broken his leg again! Isn'tthat enough to jar a man? I guess he'll retire from the businessafter that. He isn't intended for it.'

  We were approaching the two automobiles now, and, looking back, Isaw Mr and Mrs Ford walking up the drive. Sam followed my gaze,and I heard him chuckle.

  'It's all right,' he said. 'They've fixed it up. Something in theway they're walking tells me they've fixed it up.'

  Mrs Drassilis was still sitting in the red automobile, lookingpiqued but resigned. Mrs Ford addressed her.

  'I shall have to leave you, Mrs Drassilis,' she said. 'Tell Jarvisto drive you wherever you want to go. I am going with my husbandto see my boy Oggie.'

  She stretched out a hand towards the millionaire. He caught it inhis, and they stood there, smiling foolishly at each other, whileSam, almost purring, brooded over them like a stout fairy queen.The two chauffeurs looked on woodenly.

  Mr Ford released his wife's hand and turned to Sam.

  'Fisher.'

  'Sir?'

  'I've been considering your proposition. There's a string tied toit.'

  'Oh no, sir, I assure you!'

  'There is. What guarantee have I that you won't double-cross me?'

  Sam smiled, relieved.

  'You forget that I told you I was about to be married, sir. Mywife won't let me!'

  Mr Ford waved his hand towards the automobile.

  'Jump in,' he said briefly, 'and tell him where to drive to.You're engaged!'

  Chapter 18

  'No manners!' said Mrs Drassilis. 'None whatever. I always saidso.'

  She spoke bitterly. She was following the automobile with anoffended eye as it moved down the drive.

  The car rounded the corner. Sam turned and waved a farewell. Mrand Mrs Ford, seated close together in the tonneau, did not evenlook round.

  Mrs Drassilis sniffed disgustedly.

  'She's a friend of Cynthia's. Cynthia asked me to come down herewith her to see you. I came, to oblige her. And now, without aword of apology, she leaves me stranded. She has no mannerswhatever.'

  I offered no defence of the absent one. The verdict more or lesssquared with my own opinion.

  'Is Cynthia back in England?' I asked, to change the subject.

  'The yacht got back yesterday. Peter, I have something of theutmost importance to speak to you about.' She glanced at Jarvisthe chauffeur, leaning back in his seat with the air, peculiar tochauffeurs in repose, of being stuffed. 'Walk down the drive withme.'

  I helped her out of the car, and we set off in silence. There wasa suppressed excitement in my companion's manner which interestedme, and something furtive which brought back all my old dislike ofher. I could not imagine what she could have to say to me that hadbrought her all these miles.

  'How _do_ you come to be down here?' she said. 'When Cynthiatold me you were here, I could hardly believe her. Why are you amaster at this school? I cannot understand it!'

  'What did you want to see me about?' I asked.

  She hesitated. It was always an effort for her to be direct. Now,apparently, the effort was too great. The next moment she hadrambled off on some tortuous bypath of her own, which, though itpresumably led in the end to her destination, was evidently a longway round.

  'I have known you for so many years now, Peter, and I don't know ofanybody whose character I admire more. You are so generous--quixoticin fact. You are one of the few really unselfish men I have evermet. You are always thinking of other people. Whatever it cost you,I know you would not hesitate to give up anything if you felt thatit was for someone else's happiness. I do admire you so for it.One meets so few young men nowadays who consider anybody exceptthemselves.'

  She paused, either for breath or for fresh ideas, and I tookadvantage of the lull in the rain of bouquets to repeat myquestion.

  'What _did_ you want to see me about?' I asked patiently.

  'About Cynthia. She asked me to see you.'

  'Oh!'

  'You got a letter from her.'

  'Yes.'

  'Last night, when she came home, she told me about it, and showedme your answer. It was a beautiful letter, Peter. I'm sure I criedwhen
I read it. And Cynthia did, I feel certain. Of course, to agirl of her character that letter was final. She is so loyal, dearchild.'

  'I don't understand.'

  As Sam would have said, she seemed to be speaking; words appearedto be fluttering from her; but her meaning was beyond me.

  'Once she has given her promise, I am sure nothing would induceher to break it, whatever her private feelings. She is so loyal.She has such character.'

  'Would you mind being a little clearer?' I said sharply. 'I reallydon't understand what it is you are trying to tell me. What do youmean about loyalty and character? I don't understand.'

  She was not to be hustled from her bypath. She had chosen herroute, and she meant to travel by it, ignoring short-cuts.

  'To Cynthia, as I say, it was final. She simply could not see thatthe matter was not irrevocably settled. I thought it so fine ofher. But I am her mother, and it was my duty not to give in andaccept the situation as inevitable while there was anything Icould do for her happiness. I knew your chivalrous, unselfishnature, Peter. I could speak to you as Cynthia could not. I couldappeal to your generosity in a way impossible, of course, for her.I could put the whole facts of the case clearly before you.'

  I snatched at the words.

  'I wish you would. What are they?'

  She rambled off again.

  'She has such a rigid sense of duty. There is no arguing with her.I told her that, if you knew, you would not dream of standing inher way. You are so generous, such a true friend, that your onlythought would be for her. If her happiness depended on yourreleasing her from her promise, you would not think of yourself.So in the end I took matters into my own hands and came to seeyou. I am truly sorry for you, dear Peter, but to me Cynthia'shappiness, of course, must come before everything. You dounderstand, don't you?'

  Gradually, as she was speaking, I had begun to grasp hesitatinglyat her meaning, hesitatingly, because the first hint of it hadstirred me to such a whirl of hope that I feared to risk the shockof finding that, after all, I had been mistaken. If I wereright--and surely she could mean nothing else--I was free, freewith honour. But I could not live on hints. I must hear this thingin words.

  'Has--has Cynthia--' I stopped, to steady my voice. 'Has Cynthiafound--' I stopped again. I was finding it absurdly difficult toframe my sentence. 'Is there someone else?' I concluded with arush.

  Mrs Drassilis patted my arm sympathetically.

  'Be brave, Peter!'

  'There is?'

  'Yes.'

  The trees, the drive, the turf, the sky, the birds, the house, theautomobile, and Jarvis, the stuffed chauffeur, leaped together foran instant in one whirling, dancing mass of which I was thecentre. And then, out of the chaos, as it separated itself oncemore into its component parts, I heard my voice saying, 'Tell me.'

  The world was itself again, and I was listening quietly and with amild interest which, try as I would, I could not make anystronger. I had exhausted my emotion on the essential fact: thedetails were an anticlimax.

  'I liked him directly I saw him,' said Mrs Drassilis. 'And, ofcourse, as he was such a friend of yours, we naturally--'

  'A friend of mine?'

  'I am speaking of Lord Mountry.'

  'Mountry? What about him?' Light flooded in on my numbed brain.'You don't mean--Is it Lord Mountry?'

  My manner must have misled her. She stammered in her eagerness todispel what she took to be my misapprehension.

  'Don't think that he acted in anything but the most honourablemanner. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He knew nothingof Cynthia's engagement to you. She told him when he asked her tomarry him, and he--as a matter of fact, it was he who insisted ondear Cynthia writing that letter to you.'

  She stopped, apparently staggered by this excursion into honesty.

  'Well?'

  'In fact, he dictated it.'

  'Oh!'

  'Unfortunately, it was quite the wrong sort of letter. It was thevery opposite of clear. It can have given you no inkling of thereal state of affairs.'

  'It certainly did not.'

  'He would not allow her to alter it in any way. He is veryobstinate at times, like so many shy men. And when your answercame, you see, things were worse than before.'

  'I suppose so.'

  'I could see last night how unhappy they both were. And whenCynthia suggested it, I agreed at once to come to you and tell youeverything.'

  She looked at me anxiously. From her point of view, this was theclimax, the supreme moment. She hesitated. I seemed to see hermarshalling her forces, the telling sentences, the persuasiveadjectives; rallying them together for the grand assault.

  But through the trees I caught a glimpse of Audrey, walking on thelawn; and the assault was never made.

  'I will write to Cynthia tonight,' I said, 'wishing herhappiness.'

  'Oh, Peter!' said Mrs Drassilis.

  'Don't mention it,' said I.

  Doubts appeared to mar her perfect contentment.

  'You are sure you can convince her?'

  'Convince her?'

  'And--er--Lord Mountry. He is so determined not to doanything--er--what he would call unsportsmanlike.'

  'Perhaps I had better tell her I am going to marry some one else,'I suggested.

  'I think that would be an excellent idea,' she said, brighteningvisibly. 'How clever of you to have thought of it.'

  She permitted herself a truism.

  'After all, dear Peter, there are plenty of nice girls in theworld. You have only to look for them.'

  'You're perfectly right,' I said. 'I'll start at once.'

  A gleam of white caught my eye through the trees by the lawn. Imoved towards it.

 
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