A FRESH CALAMITY
Dashwood nodded sulkily. He had a vague idea that Ralph was making fun
of him in some way. Still, he was understood to say that such was his
precise meaning. Lady Dashwood rose and walked off in the direction of
the house; she had to see to the comfort of her expected visitors.
"I hope you will dine with us tonight, Mr. Darnley," she said. "Just
Sir George and Mary, with Vincent here--nothing more than a quiet
family party."
"Too quiet and too family for me," Dashwood muttered. "You can count
me out. Besides, I have the most important business in London tonight."
Lady Dashwood looked relieved. There was no mistaking the expression
of her face as she turned away. Dashwood noticed it, and his face
flushed dully. He made a motion to follow, but Ralph laid a strong
hand upon his arm.
"One moment, if you please," he said, "I should like to have a few
words with you on the subject of that matchbox. The police are pretty
certain to ask you a great many questions concerning it, as you can
see for yourself?"
"Let 'em ask," growled Dashwood, "it's nothing to do with me. I
dropped that box, and the chap who set fire to the house picked it
up."
"But suppose that chap, as you call him, happened to see you hanging
about the house at a very early hour in the morning, a groom or
somebody of that kind, who was prepared to swear to your identity?
What then, my dear sir?"
Ralph was only drawing a bow at a venture; he was really working out a
little theory of his own, but the arrow went home to the feather.
Dashwood's face turned to a dull grey; he seemed to be utterly
unnerved for the moment.
"Look here," he blustered presently, "what do you think you are likely
to gain by asking me all these prying questions? Suppose I _was_
hanging about the place last night. What then? Isn't it natural? Can't
you understand the interest I take in my own property? You don't
suppose that I should be likely to burn down a house of my own that
contained some fifty thousand pounds worth of artistic treasures?"
"Your logic is too strong for me," Ralph smilingly admitted. "As the
claimant to the property and the title you are hardly likely to
destroy the house. But there is one thing that puzzles me--if things
are as you say, why do you not press your claim?"
"Because I am short of a certain document. It is rather an important
document for it happens to be my mother's marriage certificate. But I
am informed that the proper will comes into my possession soon, and
then I can move. Till that time I have decided to let sleeping dogs
lie."
"Meaning that Sir George is to remain in blissful ignorance, I
presume?"
"That's about it. Let him make the best of his reign. And that
stuck-up daughter of his! She'll get her face to the grindstone before
she is much older. Besides, there is another matter. Lady Dashwood has
to be considered."
With difficulty Ralph disguised his contempt. A fine consideration the
speaker had for Lady Dashwood! He was trading cunningly on her
weakness and her desire to avoid scandal. It was his cue to pretend
that he did not care to take any steps during the lifetime of the
unhappy old lady. He had stripped her pretty well of all she had,
without any risk to himself. So long as the golden stream flowed he
need never fear.
Directly he came to make his claim he would be asked searching
questions and would have to satisfy keen legal minds of the honesty of
his proofs. Meanwhile, he preferred to blackmail an innocent old lady
who was too ill and broken down to protest. Ralph read the fellow like
an open book, but he was going to make use of him later, if needs be.
Therefore it was that he disguised his feelings now.
"That sounds very creditable," he said. "It is very good of you to
consider Lady Dashwood's feelings in this way. I hope she is
correspondingly grateful."
"She isn't anything of the kind," Dashwood protested. "She fairly
hates me. Every bit of affection that she has is centred on Sir George
Dashwood's girl. Everything must be made smooth for Mary. Maybe her
pride will have a bit of a dash before long. I don't know why I am
telling you all these things, except that you seem a good sort. For
all I know to the contrary, you may be a police spy inquiring into my
past. All the same, I don't think the old lady would stoop to that
kind of thing."
"You are quite right," Ralph said drily. "I'm sure she couldn't. I
must be going now. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you at
dinner tonight?"
Dashwood winked significantly. There were better attractions
elsewhere. The air seemed to be all the sweeter and purer after he had
gone. Very slowly and thoughtfully Ralph made his way across the
fields in the direction of his temporary abode. Fate seemed determined
to place all the threads in his hands; everything was arranging itself
just as he could have wished. His plan of action became quite clear
and plain. There were certain circumstances to be taken into
consideration, more particularly the way that Mary would act in the
future. And Vincent Dashwood would be an important pawn in the game.
By the time that it became necessary to dress for dinner Ralph had
worked it all out.
He walked across the fields in the direction of the dower house. It
was a lovely night, clear and bright, with no breath of air stirring.
Ralph could see the red gables of the Hall beyond the noble elms and
beeches, and a pleasant picture rose before his eyes. He could see
himself as master of the place with Mary by his side--not the Mary of
the proud, cold face and haughty eye, but another Mary, soft and
beautiful, as she emerged chastened and purified from the furnace of
the family pride. There would be trouble and humiliation first, but it
should all come about, or Ralph would know the reason why.
He was still debating the matter as he reached the dower house and a
well-trained footman took him as far as the drawing-room. The blinds
were not down yet, so that the room was filled with the saffron glory
of the sunset. It was all so refined and homelike, so different to
anything that Ralph had ever seen before. It was the thing that Ralph
had dreamt of, the home life that had occupied much of his waking
dreams. It lay before him now, but there was much to be done first.
Lady Dashwood came stately and smiling into the room. The look in her
eyes was warm and affectionate as Ralph took her hand. Mary was not
down yet, she explained, but the girl was dressing for dinner, and she
was much better for a long sleep. Then Mary came into the room, serene
and calm, with a flush on her beautiful face as she caught sight of
Ralph.
"You have heard all the good news?" she asked. "The Hall has not been
in the least damaged by the fire. My father ran in to tell me a little
time ago, and he has gone back, preferring to dress at home. I
understand that we shall be back home on Saturday."
"So I am told," Ralph replied. "It has been a great inconvenience, of
course, but it most opportunely rid you of very undesirable visitors.
By the time that Saturday comes you will be in a position to defy
them."
"Indeed, I hope so," Mary said, with the deep flush still on her face.
"My father intends to bring those documents so marvellously recovered
here with him tonight, and tomorrow he will take them to London. Mr.
Mayfield is a clever man, but circumstances have been too strong for
him this time. Mr. Darnley, you are our good fairy; without you I have
not the least idea what we should have done."
"Don't be so sure of that," Ralph smiled. "The fairy of my time
always seemed to want something in return for past favours, and you
may find that I am keeping very closely to precedent. But is not Sir
George very late?"
A big clock over the carved oak mantel chimed the hour of eight. Lady
Dashwood shook her head, and explained that one must make allowances
just now. There would be no great harm done if the dinner waited for
five minutes. It was all the same to Ralph, who asked nothing better
than to sit in that perfect atmosphere and contemplate the beauty of
the girl before him. He had to wait some time for the prize, but he
knew that it would fall into his fingers at last. There was one
shortcut to victory, but he wasn't going to take that way. He watched
the sunshine playing on Mary's face, he seemed to see clean through
the mask of pride to the pure white soul below.
"I am going to ask you a question," the girl said. "You have never
told me what was your business here, except that you had lost your
money and that you had come into these parts to pick up something from
the wreck. Is everything gone, Mr. Darnley?"
"Everything," Ralph smiled, "save honour. My father trusted Horace
Mayfield, and the result is that when I leave here I shall have to get
my living. I don't quite know what I am going to do, but I am strong
and capable and steady. I may say----"
"Here is Sir George at last," Lady Dashwood exclaimed. "What a hurry
he seems to be in. Mary, my dear, will you please to ring the bell and
tell Seddon we are ready for dinner. . . . Why----"
Sir George had come hurriedly into the room. The white tie had come
unfastened and hung in two streamers down his shirt front, but he did
not seem to notice it. His face was as white as his tie; his forehead
was damp with moisture.
"I've lost them," he cried; "stolen out of my desk! All those precious
papers! And now I am more in the power of that scoundrel Mayfield than
ever! I--I----"
He dropped into a chair and burst into a flood of maudlin, senile
tears.