Читать книгу The Man Called Gilray - Fred M. White - Страница 6

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Lady Silverdale faltered something, she was trying to frame some excuse for her action. Temple turned away just a little impatiently. There was something in his manner that wounded Elsie.

"Philip," she murmured. "Oh, Philip, if you knew how unhappy I am!"

Temple's manner changed instantly. There was no withstanding an appeal like that. He took Elsie's hands in his own, and pressed them tenderly. She could see the glow of love in his eyes.

"We are both unhappy," he said. "Fate has dealt very hardly with us, Elsie. I have kept out of your way as far as possible, but I have been hearing things lately. You can't help people talking. Has—has he been unkind to you again? Has there been any violence?"

A bitter little smile crossed Elsie's face.

"There never was any violence," she said. "There is absolutely nothing that I could prove in a court of law. A man can break a woman's heart, and the world would only laugh at her story. They would say that she was hysterical, neurotic, that she invented things, and they would sympathise with the husband. Oh, you know what I mean, Philip.

"Yes," Temple said gravely. "I know what you mean, dear. I've seen cases like it myself. But they tell me that Silverdale is away. Where?"

"How do I know? He comes and he goes. It may be a day, it may be a month or more. He tells me nothing, and leaves me to make excuses. And there are people who pity Silverdale, because he is tied to a block of ice like myself. They say that I am cold, unfeeling, callous. You know, Philip."

Phil Temple caught his lips in his teeth fiercely. He knew nobody better. His heart was aflame with love and pity, he would have liked to have taken Elsie in his arms and cover her face with kisses.

"I must see you oftener," he said. "I must. The tie between us is more pure and honourable than the legal tie that binds you to Silverdale. But you have a trouble of your own. I came here to see Selby on political business, and we retired to a quiet corner to talk. He left me with a knotty part to think over. And I saw what you left on the sundial. Why?"

Elsie hesitated just a moment. She had often longed for a chance to speak to Temple, and she lacked the courage to do so. And here was fate actually forcing her hand. And Phil had a right to know. It was his property that the blackmailing scoundrel was dealing with.

"I am glad this has happened," Lady Silverdale murmured. "My mind has been made up for me. Phil, do you remember the dreadful days when we first parted. It was at the time when I had to make up my mind what to do. It was a case of love or duty."

"And you chose the path of duty," Temple said sadly.

"There was nothing else I could do, Phil. Upon my word, even now I cannot quite make up my mind whether I regret it or not. I wrote you certain letters which I asked you to destroy. As I was going to marry another man they should have been destroyed. Did you do so?"

Phil looked just a little uncomfortable.

"Well. I didn't," he replied. "They were such precious letters, dearest. They were like words that came from your heart directly into mine. I couldn't destroy them. I had a strange feeling as if I were burning a part of yourself. They were some little consolation to me for what I was losing. I hope you are not very angry with me."

A tender smile trembled on Lady Silverdale's lips.

"These are circumstances in which a woman cannot be angry with a man," she said. "I should be angry, but I like—no, I love you all the better for it, Phil. Where are the letters?"

"Locked away safely, of course. I have not looked at them since your wedding day."

"Then they are no longer in your possession. Oh, you may shake your head. Listen to this. Do you remember the circumstances in which this was written? If you don't, I do."

She took the envelope from her pocket, and produced the scrap of letter. Phil read it eagerly with a perplexed frown on his face.

"This is amazing," he said. "This is part of a reply to a letter of mine after I had learnt something to Silverdale's detriment. I was giving you a warning. I believe that I could repeat every word by heart. I can recollect exactly what I was doing when it reached me. And now it is in your possession. It is not possible that I dropped it anywhere. I am certain that I locked it away with the others at once. And where is the rest of it?"

"The rest of it—and the others—is in the hands of the wretch who is blackmailing me, Phil."

Philip Temple glared at Elsie with a dazed look in his eyes.

"You had better explain," he said. "Begin at the beginning, please."

"It has been going on now for over a year. There came an application for money which I ignored. After that I was threatened. Certain letters of mine were to be sent to my husband unless I complied. I could think of no letters, so I treated the threats with scorn. Then a portion of my first letter to you came, and that startled me. I tried to find the sender, but I failed. The man is too clever for me. I have never found a trace of him. I had to give him money—I did not care to face my husband. You little know how he would have rejoiced to get a whip like that in his hands. Since that time I have been buying your letters, a sheet and half a sheet at a time. The man who has me in his power seems to have a good understanding of human nature. He long ago had all the money at my disposal, and now he is getting my jewellery. You will see from that typed letter what I had to do to-night. And I believe that this man is ostensibly a gentleman!"

"It looks like it." Temple said between his teeth. "It is not possible to believe that we are dealing with one of the duchess's servants. Apart from them nobody but a guest has the run of this garden."

"A most disgraceful thing," Elsie murmured.

"Disgraceful enough," Phil admitted. "But such things have happened before now. Unfortunately society has its scoundrels the same as the lower classes. It makes one's blood boil to think that this fellow might be sitting at the same table, actually in one's own house. My poor child, how you must have suffered! And why, oh, why did you not tell me this before?"

Lady Silverdale sighed helplessly. It was almost impossible to explain.

"I am getting to my wit's ends," she said. "My jewels are going. And Silverdale might take it in his head to ask me any day where they have gone. What am I to do, Phil?"

Temple would have given a good deal for a satisfactory reply to the question. He turned the typed piece of paper over and over in his hand as if trying to find a solution there. He looked into the envelope carefully. Surely there was some kind of a clue to all this! Something seemed to be loose in the envelope, some tiny fragments of material that he shook into his hand. He examined them half idly by the light of the lamps.

"This might help me," he said. "It proves, at any rate, that it is a man who is giving this trouble."

"Of course, it is a man," Elsie said.

"Why, of course? It might be a woman. But I know now that it is a man. I'll put these fragments into the back of my watch. Never mind what they suggest to me. It is a very tiny clue, but it is a clue all the same. The next thing I have to find out is how those letters left my possession. My desk has a patent lock on it, and the key is never out of my possession. An editor like myself is the repository of a great many secrets, and I have to be careful. We'll lay a plot for this rascal, and run him to earth sooner or later, Elsie. The next time you get one of these letters let me have it at once, and I'll devise a scheme. You shall be rid of this trouble at any rate. If the scoundrel moves in good society, as seems probable, he shall be sorry for this."

A shattering mob of women went by at the moment, and one of them hailed Lady Silverdale.

"How nice and cosy you look there," she said shrilly. "Your husband is looking for you, dear."

There was a nasty suggestiveness in the speech that brought the blood flaming to Elsie's cheeks. She was too vaguely alarmed to be indignant for more than a moment.

"I had better go, Phil," she said. "It is so like Silverdale to turn up in this unexpected manner. I—I had better not be seen with you here."

Temple rose and moved off in the shadow of the trees. He had much to occupy his attention. He might be more or less helpless so far as Lady Silverdale was concerned, but at any rate he would protect her against this heartless persecution. There would be plenty of opportunities for discussing the matter with Elsie. And if he could only lay his hands on this blackguard—

Lady Silverdale went her way in the direction of the house. Standing at the top of the long flight of marble steps lending to the garden was Silverdale himself. He looked all his age, despite the wonderful way in which he was turned out. His clothes seemed to fit him to a glove, his grey whiskers and moustache and beard were barbered as if a sculptor had been at work on them. Not a single hair was out of place, the skin line was perfectly defined. It was said that his face had been measured for his beard and been poured into it. As he stood there he was perhaps the neatest man in London—the smile on his face was cynical and sinister.

"Been enjoying yourself?" he asked. "Taking part in these simple pleasures? What it is to have a sunny disposition like yours! Where did you get that happy smile from? Yes, I can see that you are glad to see me again."

Lady Silverdale shivered slightly. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"I've been where I am going again," Silverdale replied. "I'm off to-night. I may be back to-morrow, and I may not be back for three months. Don't look so terribly disappointed. You can tell any amiable and charming lie you like to account for my absence. Get Phil Temple to make up a nice little paragraph for the papers."

Lady Silverdale was discreetly silent. She found silence her best weapon. She must not let this man have the slightest idea how he hurt her, for the more she showed her feelings the more bitter did his tongue become. He stood there grimly still and preoccupied.

"You are going home?" she asked.

"My dear Lady Silverdale, I'm going to do nothing of the kind. All my preparations are made, and I am going off at once. And mind you don't catch cold—don't sit out with that thin dress on. I have the honour to wish you goodnight."

He bowed with a dry smile, and vanished into the house. Outside he paused just for a moment for a taxi to go by. His thoughts seemed to amuse him, judging from his smile.

"Lord, how she hates me," he muttered. "And how much more would she hate me if she knew everything. What would she say if she could only see what is in my pocket!"