Читать книгу My Lord of Wrybourne - John Jeffery Farnol - Страница 10
ОглавлениеWHICH IS A CHAPTER SUGGESTIVE
"Well, dear fellow," said the Viscount as they walked their animals through this pleasant woodland, "yonder is a tool, very foul, of course, yet sufficiently deadly, properly used."
"Not for me!" Sir Robert retorted contemptuously. "What a fool you are, Twily,—after all these years to so misjudge me."
"Do I, Robert?"
"Hearkee and learn—if you can! My vengeance far transcends the sordid vulgarity of murder."
"That is, at least, a sounding phrase, Bob!"
"I'll thank you not to interrupt! Be silent and heed me well, for—here and now, where none can possibly overhear, I shall disclose to you—something—of what I have in mind. First, then, you will understand I purpose no bodily violence. Is this perfectly understood?"
"No! What then do you propose?"
Sir Robert drew forth his stump, glanced down at it, hid it again and answered:
"The penalty I shall exact will be more enduring, far-reaching and ... persistent! Yes, it shall be a perpetual reckoning to be paid so long as life lasts.... Tell me, Viscount, what does a man hold most dear?"
"Why surely—life itself, Robert."
"Not all men, fool, and surely not—this man! The answer is: honour, reputation, wife and child,—and there shall he be assailed! His reputation is already shaken by his speech in the Lords,—well, I have written Bellenger how to use this against him in Town; soon the county hereabout shall be astir also. Then as to his wife,—you will begin at once to——"
"Eh, Robert—his wife? A glorious creature! Nothing would give me greater pleasure, but—my dear fellow—her husband! After the exhibition of his methods with Mr. Bloody Bones I must beg leave to be excused any attempt——"
"Fool!" exclaimed Sir Robert, fiercely scornful. "She is above the attempt of any man, most especially such as you! NO! If her body is his, yet her mind is her own, and always will be; so it is her mind shall be won to the absolute belief in his perfidy, and vice versa,—they must each suspect the other."
"Per-fectly, my dear Bob! How glibly you say it! How simple and charmingly easy it all sounds!"
"Yes-s-s!" murmured Sir Robert, dwelling upon the word with a sibilant hiss. "And how easily it must and shall achieve—with proper manage! All the essentials are to hand, yes—all the factors and need but a resolute will to guide them.... And that will is mine!"
"As—how, Robert?"
And in the same hushed, rather dreadful voice, Sir Robert made reply:
"Ralph Scrope, becoming a confirmed sot, grieves his adoring wife more often with his ever more frequent drunkenness,—she seeks help and comfort more often of her dear friends at Wrybourne Feveril,—very well! Now, contrive that she sometime meets the Earl in some leafy remoteness; ensure his Countess shall hear whispers, vague rumours of this—better and better! Arrange that our guilty innocents meet so again and that in this charming seclusion his Countess surprises them together ... then leave the potent leaven of doubt and suspicion to work...!"
After this they rode some distance in silence except for the jingle of bits, creak of saddle leather and muffled thud of hoofs, for they were now out upon the highroad; at last, and glancing very much askance at his silent companion, the Viscount enquired in husky whisper:
"And ... his baby?"
And in the same utterly passionless murmur Sir Robert answered slowly:
"His ... baby ... shall be ... the last blow,—perhaps! Yesss, the crowning glory of achievement ... the grand finality...."
By this time they had reached a place where the ways divided, and here the Viscount, drawing rein, turned to look at Sir Robert with an expression very like consternation.
"By God, Robert," said he in tone matching his look, "there's that in you ... so unexpected ... I—well, I'm devilish glad you are my—friend!"
"Your ... friend?" repeated Sir Robert, slowly. "Am I?"
"Are you—not so, Robert?"
"This ... depends!"
"On what, Robert?"
"Upon how long you prove of use to me,—faithful and zealous to serve my purposes."
"Can you possibly have the least reason to doubt this, Robert?"
And after an interval of silence Sir Robert, turning in his saddle, looked at his questioner, who met this scrutiny with his usual smile and the further enquiry:
"Well, my very dear fellow?"
Slowly Sir Robert nodded, saying in that emotionless voice of his:
"I permit Viscount Twily to find the answer of and for himself! Yes, and to further explain why the promised deeds of that Wrexford property are still not forthcoming?"
"The delay is entirely owing to fool Ralph's lady wife—this luscious though strangely resolute creature, a deliciously wilful beauty, my Robert! But today I am fairly confident we shall receive them. I am on my way to the Manor now. So here, for the nonce, we part.... Au revoir! And, my dear fellow, it occurs to me that our Mumping wretch, Mr. Blood and Bones, may prove a very, very useful tool—sometime or other." Then, wheeling his mare down the adjacent side road, Viscount Twily cantered away; but presently he eased his mare to a walk and, caressing her glossy neck, spoke to her softly:
"So, my Lais, our beloved Robert ventures threats at last! Our Sir Arrogant permits us to exist—on sufferance and only so long as he will...! Ah well, well—forewarned is forearmed, an adage very trite and yet how true! And now for fool Ralph—and his Cecily! His? And yet—for how long? I wonder!"
