Читать книгу The House of Mammon - Fred M. White - Страница 11

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By the time Marlton Grange was reached, Sairson had cast off his gloomy forebodings. After all, what was there to be afraid of? He was not the first man whose life had been threatened by a needy desperado full of imaginary wrongs. Usually people put an end to these worries through the medium of the police, but there were urgent reasons why Sairson could not resort to that method. At any rate, there was nothing to be afraid of for the present. He had a distinct feeling that he was taking a big stride forward. The county might turn their backs on him in contempt, but they would not be less ready to do so when they saw friendly relations established between the Grange and Laurisdale Castle. Laurisdale might be next door to an idiot but socially he was still a power in the land.

It was a source of irritation that his wife and daughters had not managed this long ago. He was absolutely incapable of understanding why they shrank from publicity. Why did they not push themselves as other women did? They had plenty of money to spend and a good house in which to entertain their friends. For their sakes he was taking a hand in the game, and it seemed to him that his wife and daughters should be grateful for his efforts. It would cost him a pretty penny, too. By and bye they would get as far as Cumberledge Royal, where the Duchess of Rochdale held sway, and after that it should be plain sailing.

Therefore Sairson swaggered into the dining-room with a flush of triumph on his coarse red face. The big voice rang out stridently. He was profuse in his offers of hospitality. Would his guest have anything? There was everything that a man could need on the sideboard. Lord Laurisdale had only to give it a name. This was liberty hall, and Laurisdale should do as he liked.

"Help yourself, old fellow!" Sairson cried. "Glad to see you. Here's luck!"'

Laurisdale responded with what heartiness he could. His thin cheeks flushed faintly at the clumsy assumption of familiarity. With endless follies to his account, Laurisdale had his pride, and winced under Sairson's heavy hand. With the glass to his lips and a smile on his face, he was regretting the necessity for this visit. He wondered vaguely whether Sairson realised what a horrible bounder he was. He looked strangely out of place against that background of taste and refinement, a horrible, jarring modern note singularly out of tune.

"You are very good," Laurisdale muttered. "Pleased to be your guest, I'm sure."

"Don't mention it," Sairson replied, as he beamed at the roof. "Pleasure is mine. Only sorry I have not had it before. You need a friend of my sort, my boy. You came to me for advice, and, by God, you shall have it. Why, I could save you thousands. Look at the way they take advantage of you and rob you at the theatre. Oh! I know all about it. Many is the speculation of that kind I have financed, and a precious good thing I have——"

"Sort of Blaydon and Co. yourself, eh?" Laurisdale suggested.

Sairson pulled himself up suddenly.

"Nothing of the sort, my boy, nothing of the sort," he protested. "I am a financier, pure and simple. No bloodsucking of that kind for John Sairson. All the cards on the table, face upwards. If I were a man of that type, do you suppose I'd go out of my way to help you? Perhaps I shall be able to give Lady Laurisdale a leg up, too."

Some old sporting instinct stirred in Laurisdale's heart. It occurred to him that Sairson's fat, red face offered a tempting mark for a clenched fist.

"Hadn't we better leave my wife out of it?" he suggested quietly.

Sairson laughed, as he chewed the end of his cigar.

"As you like it," he said. "But the ladies are terribly extravagant sometimes. At any rate, that is what the little birds whisper in these parts. Even local tradesmen need money at times—can't live on the castle patronage, my boy. When you sink all your cash in the Cosmos, others have to wait, eh? Oh! I know something of the ways of the aristocracy. I'm an honest man, Laurisdale, and——"

The blustering boaster suddenly paused and rose in a listening attitude. He could hear sounds of shuffling feet in the hall, and a whispered tearful protest followed by a mocking laugh. Before he could take a step forward to ascertain the cause of the commotion, the dining-room door was flung suddenly open, and two figures entered. Laurisdale gasped with astonishment. In spite of his familiarity with the stage and its many striking effects, he had never seen anything like this.

A clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour alike the signal for the rising of the curtain, and here was melodrama palpitating with life. The fine old setting to the scene left nothing to be desired. Here was the actor too—a wild-looking man with a mass of hair hanging on his forehead, a man possessed of a consuming rage that gleamed in his eyes and told of something that seemed to spell murder. His clothes were shabby and untended, his boots trodden down at the heel. Pitifully he saw what trouble and despair had made him.

Here was melodrama hot and strong before Laurisdale's astonished eyes, but there was something still more startling to follow. Pressing closely behind the man was the slim figure of a girl clad in a long white wrap, a mass of shining hair draping her shoulders. The beautiful face was contorted with terror, the dark eyes were full of tears. It was a lovely face, as Laurisdale could not fail to see, a face dainty and refined, and stamped with innate breeding that spoke for itself. What on earth was she doing here? Laurisdale wondered.

He saw Sairson stagger back, white to the lips. It was only for an instant, but that was long enough even to Laurisdale's limited intelligence. Whoever that unsavoury nomad was, Sairson was horribly afraid of him. A moment later and the bully was himself again.

"Angela," he said, "what is the meaning of this? Has all the house suddenly gone mad? Why aren't you in bed at this time of night?"

"I—I came down for something, father," Angela said, "and I found—I found——"

She broke off abruptly and turned her face aside. Father! Laurisdale caught himself repeating the word. Could that beautiful girl of refined features and the stamp of culture be the daughter of John Sairson? The mere suggestion was preposterous. Such things could not happen outside the covers of a novel. And what was so dainty a creature doing with this intruder? Obviously she know him, obviously she was afraid of him. Even Laurisdale could see that Angela was on the stranger's side.

He noticed the red veins in Sairson's forehead knit and tighten, and saw the blazing anger in his bloodshot eyes. Clearly Sairson was aching to seize the intruder by the throat, but just as clearly some sense of fear or of prudence was holding him back.

"Some tramp, I suppose," Sairson said hoarsely, "some blackguard seeking a night's lodging. Angela, go to the telephone and call up the police."

The derelict laughed scathingly.

"The very thing," he said. "That is an excellent suggestion, Mr. Sairson. Angela, summon the police at once. That is very kind of you, Mr. Sairson. You can tell the police my story, and afterwards I will tell them mine. But you dare not do it!"

The last words came with a snarl of contempt. Sairson stood astounded.

"I—I am sorry for you," he stammered. "After all, you were a gentleman once. You may go."

"Oh! may I? That is kindness itself. And I was a gentleman once! What praise from so discriminating a judge as Mr. John Sairson! A gentleman once! Precisely: an officer and a gentleman. Let me introduce Captain Jack Barr, late of the Northern Rifles, to your notice."

Laurisdale started with an involuntary exclamation. Verily, this was a night of surprises. So that battered wretch standing there under the searching rays of the electric light was Jack Barr! One of the best! A fine shot and cricketer, a handy fellow with his fists, and the best long-distance runner of his day at Eton. What was he doing in this amazing household? And why was Sairson afraid of him? Why was that beautiful girl with the shining hair and dewy eyes regarding him so tenderly?

At the sound that came from Laurisdale, Barr turned sharply upon him.

"Oh! I know you," he said. "I'm not so mad that I didn't recognise you directly I came into the room. A dramatic meeting, Laurisdale. Shall I tell you what I came here for to-night? I came to kill that great red rat yonder. Look at him standing there, pretending not to be afraid of me! Why, he'd give ten thousand pounds of his beloved money to know that I was dead to-morrow. Ay, and I should have killed him to-night had not this dear girl interfered. When I saw her again my heart melted. I shall feel all the impulse again when she is not near me. This time I come to save you, Laurisdale. Have nothing to do with that man. Take nothing from him even as a gift. Oh! I know him—few men know him so well as I do. A money——"

Angela came forward and laid a hand timidly on the speaker's arm.

"For my sake," she said, "for mother's sake, say no more. Oh! can't you see how deeply you are distressing and humiliating me before Lord Laurisdale? If there is any of the old love left——"

Barr bowed and smiled. The anger died from his eyes; he fumbled his way to the door like one who is blind. There was a sudden click and the dining-room was plunged into darkness. A hoarse moan came from the side of the room where Sairson was standing. Imaginary fingers were pressing on his throat. It seemed to him that he could hear the sound of scuffling in the hall, then the banging of a door. He did not know that a pair of strong arms had grasped Barr from behind and carried him to the hall door. Before he could recover from the surprise, Barr was in the darkness of the garden.

"You fool!" a voice hissed in his ear. "Do you want to spoil everything? If you had an ounce of manhood left, you would play the game. To think that that poor child still cares for a battered hulk like you."

Barr ceased to stagger. The words had an instantly soberising effect upon him.

"That you, Gosway?" he asked feebly. "I—I don't think I really meant to kill him; and when I saw Angela I was sure I didn't. I should have gone when she asked me, if I hadn't caught sight of Laurisdale. He was not a bad sort, and did me many a good turn. That's why I wanted to repay him. I'm so tired, I think I could sleep for a week."

"Come on, then!" Gosway said sternly. "I've got a lodging for you. I followed you from London. Bad as you are, and low as you have fallen, you are too good to hang for a man like John Sairson."

"It was Angela who felt her trembling way to the switch. When the light flared up again, Sairson perceived that Barr had vanished. He drew a long sigh of relief. The florid color slowly returned to his cheeks, and he began to laugh and bluster.

"So the fellow has gone," he said. "Angela—oh, the girl has gone, too! Most astounding scene, Laurisdale. You used to know Barr, I see."

"One of the best fellows that ever stepped," Laurisdale said positively.

"Was he, really? Then, see what drink will do for a man. He was engaged to my girl at one time, but I had to forbid it for her sake. He owes me money to this day. Yet he tells people I robbed him. What do you say to turning in, old fellow?"