Читать книгу The Salt Of The Earth - Fred M. White - Страница 9

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After dinner the smoke of cigarettes began to drift across the table, and Adela and her companions were in the drawing-room. She would have given much to be alone, to think this matter out. Even as she sat smiling and chatting, her words were spoken almost mechanically, and she had little idea of what she was saying. For she had taken the plunge. She had permitted this hideous fraud to pass, and, morally speaking, was part and parcel of it. She had been swept off her feet by the resistless tide of events, and felt that a cruel fate had been altogether too much for her. But, then, what could she have done? She could not have risen to her feet directly Samuel Burton appeared and denounced him as a criminal, a man who had not earned an honest penny for twenty years. Besides, the man had been kind to her, extravagantly, grotesquely kind. She was no relation of his, she had no claim upon his purse, she was merely the daughter of a notorious woman, whose name had once been a by-word in American drinking saloons. And this Samuel Burton had chosen to make her the centre of the one romance in his life. For twenty years he had lavished money upon her, and surrounded her with every luxury. He had worked and slaved for her till her position had become unassailable. Yet if these women knew, oh, it they only knew!

What would they say? What would they think? At least half a score of women around her were known to some of the greatest in the land, and were familiar with the atmosphere of Courts. But if one might read their secret hearts, perhaps they might be no better or worse than Adela herself. Still, they were the smartest of the smart. Their sole object of idolatry was Money wherewith to procure the luxury and extravagance upon which their whole souls were centred. That was why they were making all this fuss of Adela, why they were descanting on Samuel Burton's fortune, and speculating about its amount. In imagination they were already making the millions fly.

"You will know how to handle him, Adela," one of them was saying. "I don't know anyone better able to lead a guileless millionaire the way he should go. He is very fond of you."

"He has imbibed the very best of American traditions," another remarked. "A man should slave to amass money, and a woman should have nothing to do but spend it. Well, dear Adela has lived up to her part honorably. She has neglected no opportunity of spending. You will start with a house in Park-lane, of course, my dear. It is fortunate that the Bendorf smash should come just now. The Bendorf mansion in Park-lane is quite lovely. Then you will have a place in Scotland, and a country house not too far from town, and a beautiful steam yacht for your friends. No doubt many other brilliant ideas will occur to you. These hints will suffice for the present. There is a deal of enjoyment to be got out of five millions. I am told that is what Mr. Burton is worth."

Adela shrugged her shoulders carelessly. She was looking her best and most brilliant. A faint pink had over spread her cheeks, and her eyes were sparkling. There was something malicious, too, in her amusement. It pleased her to see how these women flocked around and flattered her, for this evening she would play the game. What to-morrow might bring forth she would leave till to-morrow. She knew the bubble was bound to burst, that before long the glittering sphere would vanish into nothingness, leaving naught but disaster and disgrace. For Samuel Burton had come to the end of his tether; he had told Adela so plainly. She thought of the handkerchief with its faint stains of blood. Samuel Burton was a dying man; he had no longer the energy or audacity of youth, and though he was carrying his head high just now, the collapse might ensue at any moment.

"I don't know what my plans will be," Adela explained. "As yet I have given the matter no consideration. Of course, it is impossible that things should go on as they have been doing, now that my benefactor has come to England. I have no doubt he will be good to me, and continue to spoil me, but as to the future—"

The girl paused; it was irksome to keep up the society small-talk, and she longed to be alone. For the first time for many years it was borne in upon her that somewhere or somehow there surely was a better and a higher and a purer life. The artificiality of the present mode struck her and rendered her discontented and weary. She would be identified with the audacious swindler who called himself Samuel Burton, and might have to stand in the dock, and stand her trial for colossal fraud. It tried her courage to the utmost to sit laughing and chatting with these people with such a weight and gloom hanging over her, and she gave a gasp of relief when the men came filing into the drawing-room, and Denne walked over to her side. He appeared quiet and subdued. Most of the men, indeed, were not in their usual lively spirits. Samuel Burton had not appeared, and, somewhat alarmed, Adela looked up questioningly at her host.

"Where is my—Mr. Burton?" she asked.

"I was going to talk to you about him," Denne replied. "I am afraid Mr. Burton is not at all well. He had a kind of fainting fit a little while ago, and we had to take him into the open air. At present he is in my smoking room. He declined to let us send for a doctor; in fact, he made light of the whole affair. He says it is nothing unusual, and he will join us in a few minutes. Perhaps you would like to go and speak to him. I think you know where he is to be found."

Adela was nothing loth; indeed, she regarded the incident as an intervention on the part of Fortune. What Denne had said had escaped the chattering women about her, so that she managed to leave the drawing-room without attracting any attention. She came presently to the smoke room—a large apartment close to a corridor leading into a winter garden. Here she found Burton seated in an armchair with his head in his hands. He looked up with a queer smile as he saw the girl approach, but his lips were white and he had some difficulty in breathing.

"It is all right," he whispered. "I am getting better. A few more attacks like this, and there will be an end of Samuel Burton. It is my heart, my dear, and the attacks are none the less painful because they are my own fault. Now go back to the drawing room, and talk to your aristocratic friends and leave me alone. I shall be quite myself in a few minutes."

"Don't you think we had better go? I want to speak to you. I must have this matter settled one way or another. I am bewildered and frightened, too. For the first time in my life I know what fear is. How you came here tonight and managed to deceive clever Mr. Denne I haven't the remotest idea. But Mark Callader suspects you. He knows there is something wrong."

Again Burton's face wore that queer smile.

"Don't worry about Callader," he said. "You have nothing to fear from him. Dogs do not fight dogs, at least not when they are about the same size. I should have liked to give you a word of warning before I came tonight, but there wasn't time. My child, it will be all right presently. That dear, delightful Mr. Burton, the millionaire, will take his adopted daughter home, and then we can have a talk. Now return to the drawing room, and enjoy yourself."

Such a notion brought a smile to Adela's lips, but Burton refused to say more. So she joined the women again. She could play her part for half an hour longer, but the half hour expanded to three-quarters, and still Burton made no sign. Adela flashed a glance across at Denne, and he came over to her.

"I think we had better go," she whispered. "Evidently Mr. Burton is no better. I will take him home if you will ask one of the people to call a hansom."

Denne obeyed her wish. When they reached the smoking room, Burton was standing before the fire-place with a cigarette in his long, slim hand.

"I am better now," he said. "But I think, if you don't mind, Denne, I'll get back to my hotel. I shall be all the better for a night's rest. It was good of you to leave me alone, and give orders to your servants to keep away. What a lot of beautiful things you have in this room! If there is one thing I admire more than another it is pictures, especially when matched with fine old frames. Look at that frame on the table. Did you buy it for an Old Master?"

"It's a painting," Denne explained, "and a very valuable one, too. The Florentine frame suits its perfectly."

"But there is no picture in it," Burton protested.

Denne smiled as he strode across the room. Then his face changed and an exclamation of annoyance broke from his lips.

"This is very extraordinary. At dinner-time there was a picture in that frame, and what is more, it was one of the most perfect specimens of a Velasquez I have ever seen. I have an agent called Lestrine who is a perfect marvel at picking up works of art. He bought this Velasquez for me, and took it away for a time, but must have brought it back to show me something about it. That is how I know it was in its frame. Perhaps he has removed it from the frame for greater security."

Burton seemed to be mildly interested, and walked up to the frame.

"But it hasn't been removed," he exclaimed. "Look for yourself! The canvas has been cut clean away from the stretcher. The job has been very neatly done, too. The picture has been cut."

Denne bent over the frame. It was characteristic of the man that he made no fume or outcry.

"A robbery," he said. "One of the many artistic thefts perpetrated by the same clever gang. I am much obliged to you for calling my attention to it. I will ask you to keep this matter a secret; it is important it should not be talked about, or get into the papers. But I had quite forgotten that your hansom is waiting."

Denne turned to the door as if nothing had happened. He saw his visitors down the lift, and into the street, put them into the hansom, and bade them good-night.

"I will see you to-morrow," Burton said. "Oh, by the by, I have forgotten my umbrella. I walked here to-night, and I brought it instead of a walking stick. You might ask the porter to fetch it."