THE DUKE’S ULTIMATUM.
Viscount Rivington was placed in a terrible dilemma. The morning after
his call upon Annesley he received two letters at his club--one from
Lady Gaynor, and one from his uncle, the Duke of Rothwell.
The first one ran in this way:
DEAR VISCOUNT--In answer to your telegram, I must say that it would
be most indiscreet of me to put my head in the lion’s mouth, as it
were. I quite understand your meaning; your plans have failed, as I
predicted, and now you wish to try mine. There is safety only at the
Lodge, and if you will come immediately matters may be discussed with
some hope of success. I greatly deprecate the waste of valuable time,
as things are really growing desperate with me.
Faithfully yours,
ELEANOR GAYNOR.
The Duke of Rothwell’s letter was as follows:
DEAR NEPHEW--Yes, I have no doubt that it is the correct thing to
make your _fiancée_ valuable presents from time to time, but not
at my expense--just yet. I must be satisfied that all is fair and
aboveboard, as I am well seasoned to your crooked dealings, and I
refuse to send you one shilling, and, in addition, shall stop the
allowance I am making you within twenty-four hours unless I have proof
that Lady Elaine Seabright is to be your wife. I have not an atom of
faith in you, and regret more than ever that I have no son to bear
my honored name. This is my ultimatum: Introduce Lady Elaine to me
forthwith, and I will soon learn for myself how things really are. No
more excuses will do for me.
ROTHWELL.
“By heavens!” he gasped. “I am ruined--ruined! Oh, I could gladly choke
the life out of the old dotard! I am on the brink of a volcano that is
rumbling at my feet, and powerless to move for--what? A paltry two
thousand pounds! And now am I driven to the last stages of desperation,
and there is not a moment to lose. I must face Isaacs once more, and if
the worst comes to the worst, a pill from this will be the end!”
He tapped his inside breast pocket, his sallow face assuming a ghastly
hue. Then he laughed lightly, curled the ends of his mustache, and
walked from the club library into the hall.
A cab was crawling past, and he hurried to the street.
“Oxford Circus!” he called to the driver, and jumped into the vehicle.
As he moved away he saw a man watching him, and he never forgot the
strange look in his eyes. He shivered, and called himself a fool.
“It is my last throw,” he thought, “and I must keep my nerves steady.
If I fail--exit! Pshaw! Why should I? The very alternative should give
me confidence and strength.”
He left the cab at Oxford Circus, and strolled along in a leisurely
manner until he reached a narrow court.
Here he paused momentarily, and glanced to the right and left. Again
those eyes haunted him, but the man was not in the crowd. It was
impossible.
Turning into the court, he walked, perhaps twenty paces, and then
entered a foul-smelling hallway, almost as dark as night. He was
evidently well acquainted with the place, for, without any hesitation,
he stepped lightly up a flight of rickety stairs and knocked sharply at
a door at the top.
It was opened by a middle-aged automaton, of powerful build, who stared
dully at the visitor.
“Is Mr. Isaacs within, Bulger?” inquired Rivington.
“Oh, it’s the viscount!” observed Bulger, after a full minute’s
reflection. “Yes, sir, he’s in. Do you wish to see him?”
“Of course, Bulger; most important. Here is half-a-crown to expedite
your movements, old man.”
Bulger took the coin between the dirty fingers of his right hand, and
smiled a wooden smile.
“Thank you, viscount. I hope you are able to settle with him now.”
He laid particular stress upon the word “now,” and Rivington understood
that things looked pretty bad.
“Announce me,” was all he said, again caressing the spot where his
revolver lay hidden.
He watched the huge form of Bulger disappear within a farther room, and
wondered why the man, who was by courtesy called the “clerk,” did not
strangle the life out of old Isaacs.
Bulger reappeared, and beckoned to Rivington with one of his
forefingers, supplementing this with a jerk of his thumb toward the
room occupied by the money-lender.
The viscount went in, closed the door behind him, and dropped languidly
into a chair, directly opposite an old man, whose features at once
proclaimed him a Jew. He was attired in a greasy suit of black, which
had evidently done duty for ten years, at least. His linen and flesh
were equally as dirty as Mr. Bulger’s own, but, unlike his clerk, he
wore a magnificent diamond ring upon one hooked finger. His nose was
like the beak of a hawk, his eyes deep-set and close together, while
his mouth was full and large, surrounded by a closely-cropped beard and
mustache, as white as snow.
He glanced up at Rivington with a wolfish grin that disclosed two rows
of broken, yellow teeth, and said in cackling tones:
“In luck, eh, my future duke? For all your confidence last
Saturday--yes, it was Saturday! How dared you come to my private house
on a Saturday? For all your confidence, I did not place much credence
in your promise to be here to-day with the two thousand pounds--just
the interest upon that document of the duke’s--or, I should say,
imitation of the duke’s signature. Well, well, I am glad that you are
at last going to be a man of your word, and I am sure that the gentle
Bulger would not have admitted you unless you were prepared to pay
me. A very useful fellow, Bulger, and when clients get abusive, he
demonstrates the fact, my dear viscount. He was once a prize-fighter,
and got ten years for killing a man. Then I took a fancy to him.
Splendid fellow for a man to have about him who has many enemies. Now
for the interest--only the interest upon that little document for ten
thousand!”
He rubbed his hands together and laughed softly.
“Mr. Isaacs, you are too fond of anticipating things,” Rivington
began, and was promptly interrupted. In an instant the face of the Jew
underwent an alarming change. The grin extended, but the eyes glowed
like burning coals.
“No money!” he snarled. “Just as I expected. Why did Bulger let you
in? You lied to him, you thief! I won’t hear you--not a word! I gave
you until noon to-day. Time is nearly up. At three my lawyer has
instructions to present the bill to the duke himself. Ha! I will not
wait one minute more. I will get principal and interest, or----”
He shrugged his shoulders and touched a bell, in answer to which Bulger
appeared.
“Turn him out!” cried Isaacs. “Why did you bring him here? He has no
money, bah!”
At any other time Rivington would have been sick with rage and fear,
but he was at the end of his tether. He was faced with the very worst,
and had already rehearsed this scene.
“Leave us, Bulger,” he said, calmly, “or stay, as you choose. I am not
going until I have had some assurance from Mr. Isaacs----”
“None! None!” screamed the enraged Jew. “I will not be swindled--oh!
you would murder me!”
He cowered back in terror, for Rivington had drawn a revolver from his
coat pocket.
“No--no, Isaacs! Your carrion is not worth a cartridge. I wish you to
understand my position exactly. I cannot get the two thousand you want
until I have secured Lady Elaine Seabright. Those are my uncle’s own
terms. I shall endeavor to make her mine to all intents and purposes
within three days’ time. If I fail, I shall put a ball through my
brains and cheat my enemies. If I succeed, everybody will be paid in
full. I am really perfectly indifferent as to what course you take,
though I do not think that you are mad enough to present that bill,
well knowing that you kill my last chance by so doing, and at the same
time lose every shilling of your money. I am not to be frightened
again. Do you not see that I am perfectly calm and indifferent?” He
laughed, adding, “here is my antidote,” and tapped the handle of his
revolver. “You will either hear of my complete success, or read of my
suicide, Mr. Isaacs, within three days’ time. Good-morning. Bulger,
you may now show me out. Stay--one moment. It may be possible for
you, Isaacs, to assist me in some way. I do not mean by any further
advances--oh, no; do not mistake me for an instant--I mean that your
brain is so full of infernal cunning that you may think of something
that might assist me out of this awful predicament. You see, the lady
is unwilling, and has to be persuaded”--he laughed hollowly--“and as
you have also a great deal at stake, Isaacs, it is to your interest
that I succeed. We are situated in this way. Now, pay attention, and
don’t for one moment think that I ever dreamed of shooting you. Lady
Elaine Seabright is in London, and will have to be taken before a
priest by force to-night. There is no use in further mincing matters
and playing with fire, and I have to admit that the undertaking is a
most desperate one. A hundred things may happen to upset my plans, but
it is my last throw, and if I fail--well, you know what to expect.”
He laughed again that strange laugh that struck a chill even into the
heart of the Jew.
“So help me!” gasped Isaacs. “I believe that he is in earnest this
time. He never was but once before, and that was when he signed the
bill. He!--he! Bulger, my gentle little clerk, the viscount must
succeed, and if he will pay you I will loan you to him. What do you
say, viscount? Your corpse is no good to me. I want my money--my money!”
Rivington eyed Bulger calmly.
“Probably a good suggestion,” he said. “I cannot trust my thief of a
valet. I do not anticipate violence of any kind, but one never knows.
Bulger, will you meet me at my club--the Albermarle--at eight o’clock
to-night? Stay, I will meet you instead, say at the corner of this
court. It will be safer. Good-day, Isaacs. If we ever meet again, it
will be under more favorable auspices; if we don’t, well, you’ll be
none the worse off in the other world.”
He left the money-lender’s office with the feelings of a victor. He had
not experienced so much self-confidence and peace of mind for years.
Turning into the first telegraph office he came to, he dispatched the
following to Lady Gaynor:
I am quite in accord with you. Shall arrive by the one-fifty express.
Send carriage to meet train.
To the Duke of Rothwell he telegraphed:
Congratulate me. All is settled. Within the time you stipulate I shall
have satisfied you.
From the telegraph office he took a hansom to Euston Station, and just
succeeded in catching the express to Ashbourne.
To an ordinary observer, the viscount was merely a gentleman of
leisure. His face bore no traces of the inward storms that had raged so
recently. He smoked a fragrant cheroot, and consulted a timetable while
the train was whirling him onwards, now and again making pencil notes
in a small memorandum book.
This done, he tossed the timetable aside, and gave himself up to
reflection until the engine slowed into Ashbourne.
To his relief, if not actual pleasure, Lady Gaynor herself was at the
station to meet him with her pony carriage.
“This is thoughtful of you,” he told her. “It may save much time. What
have you to say to me?”
She touched the ponies lightly, and smiled at him strangely.
“So you have failed absolutely?”
“Absolutely! To make matters worse, Annesley is pretty much in his
usual form again, and has discovered her retreat. I was fool enough
to blackguard him in the heat of my jealous passion. Now, then, it is
success or ruin for both. I shall not attempt to face things out, and
if we lose there will be an inquest.”
He looked gloomily away, and Lady Gaynor’s face became pale under her
paint. Like all women, she dreaded violence and death.
“Now, then, what are we to do?” he concluded. “Don’t drive to the
lodge. I shall feel that I am being stifled. We can talk safely here,
and you can take me back to the station after a while. I must catch the
next up-train.”
“I have not much to say,” was Lady Gaynor’s reply; “but Lady Elaine
Seabright must be brought home to-night without her maid! I have long
anticipated this, and am prepared. I shall expect you and her by the
last train. Your wit must devise the means. Chloroform, or anything
you like. I have an Italian physician staying with me, and a form of
marriage ceremony shall be gone through, whether my lady wills it or
not!”
A strange light flashed into his eyes, and his dark skin reddened.
“I believe that we shall win, after all,” he said, “and I will teach
my wife to care for me some day. Take me back to the station, Lady
Gaynor!”