HARD PUT TO IT
With a sigh of passionate relief Vincent Dashwood watched the cab
drive away. He hardly knew what he had to fear, and yet he discovered
the fact that he had got rid of some great danger. True, Ralph Darnley
had more or less betrayed his secret to Mrs. Speed, but then that
discovery might have been made at any moment.
Dashwood called impatiently to the tenant of the house. No reply came.
He walked into the dining-room muttering to himself. Mrs. Speed stood
there by the fireplace, her hands clasped convulsively together, her
face hard and grey. Once in his life Dashwood had been in court and
heard a woman sentenced to death. It came back to him now that the
face of the criminal had looked exactly like Mrs. Speed's.
"What on earth is the matter with you?" he asked brutally.
"Wait a moment," the woman said hoarsely. "I was thinking, I was
trying to get it all clear in my brain. It seems impossible,
altogether preposterous. He told me that you were Sir Vincent
Dashwood. He wasn't mad, was he?"
"Perhaps not," Dashwood grinned, "but I shall think you are if you go
on like this. I didn't dare to tell you at first because you do such
foolish things. You are quite good enough to have written to the old
girl and told her everything. It is a very fortunate thing that Lady
Dashwood regards you as being no longer in the world."
"Is it? Are you sure that Lady Dashwood thinks me dead?"
"Of course she does. I got that out of her by judicious pumping. Now
that Ralph Darnley has given me away I can tell you the whole truth. I
got sick of plodding in the City on small pay and hard work. One or
two things you told me gave me an idea of the game. I got hold of all
those letters and things and learned them by heart. Gradually, the
whole story was mine. Then I pretended to you that I had something to
do in the north. I didn't go north at all; I went down to Dashwood and
introduced myself to the old lady. She asked me a lot of questions,
and I replied to them satisfactorily. Of course, she did not recognise
me as the boy I was when we left the parish seventeen years ago. And
she put old Slight on me, too. Well, I satisfied old Slight, too,
though at the first go-off he also regarded me as an impostor. Still,
I hadn't the nerve to go the whole thing, and pretended that I desired
to wait till the old lady was dead. And she was so much in love with
the girl who was here just now that she allowed me to have my own way.
It was only when I looked like getting into trouble over a charge of
burning the Hall down that I had to speak. And blest if Ralph Darnley
did not come forward and produce the very marriage certificate that I
needed. It was as easy as falling off a house. Everybody gave way to
me without a struggle, I stepped into the estate and the title. That
is not more than a week ago. The only people who made a fuss were the
lawyers. That is why I came to you for those letters. But I shall soon
stop the mouths of those old landsharks, and then we shall have a good
time. No more dodging about and worrying over your rent in the future,
mother."
But Mrs. Speed shared no joy in the prospect of her emancipation. The
grey look had not left her face and the strained terror was still in
her eyes.
"I didn't mind it," she said. "At any rate, I have tried to be honest.
And so you claimed the estate of the Dashwoods on the ground that you
are the son of Ralph Dashwood, and all the time Ralph Darnley, as he
calls himself, was looking on. Has the man any bitter grudge against
you?"
"Why should he? I never saw him in my life till a little less than a
month ago."
"And he permits this farce to go on! Why? What strange scheme has he
in his mind? Oh, why did he not turn up before, and prevent this great
temptation from being forced on you?"
The listener stared in astonishment at Mrs. Speed. A feeling of danger
troubled him. He caught the woman almost roughly by the shoulder and
shook her.
"What is the matter with you?" he demanded. "Why can't you speak out?
Who is this Ralph Darnley that you should be in such mortal fear of
him?"
"There is no Ralph Darnley," Mrs. Speed cried. "That man is Ralph
Dashwood, the son of the Dashwood who married my sister and then
disappeared. How do I know? Why, he is the very image of his father,
as the latter was as a young fellow. Directly he came into the room
just now I recognised him. You could have knocked me down with a
feather. I have a portrait of Ralph Dashwood upstairs--I only turned
it out last night. And when I show you that photo you will have no
doubts as to who this Ralph Darnley is. Why he is allowing you to
stand in his shoes is a mystery. When he comes to declare his identity
he will make very short work of _you_, Vincent."
"Go up and get that photograph," the listener said hoarsely, "I'll get
to the bottom of this."
The photograph was a faded one, but there was no comfort in it for the
man who chose to call himself Vincent Dashwood. It was exactly as his
mother had said. Making due allowances for the change in fashion and
dress, it was Ralph Darnley who smiled out of the photograph into
Vincent Speed's terrified eyes.
"You're right," he said, "right as rain. No use disputing the thing in
the face of evidence like that. But what is that chap waiting for, why
is he making a cat's paw of me like this? No wonder that he could
supply me with a copy of the marriage certificate of his father's
second matrimonial venture when he was the offspring of the alliance.
The question is, How much longer is he going to keep me on the string?
Still, nobody else knows. The best thing I can do is to push a
mortgage through and make myself secure with as much money as I can
lay my hands on. Perhaps I may manage to bamboozle Lady Dashwood out
of a bit more. At any rate, she does not know anything of this
business, for----"
"Fool," Mrs. Speed cried, "of course she knows. Hasn't she seen Ralph
Darnley?"
"Well, yes, he seems to be a prime favourite at the dower house."
"Naturally. Why, as soon as her ladyship set eyes upon the young
fellow who chooses to call himself Ralph Darnley she would recognise
him. Do you suppose that you could deceive a mother over a thing like
that? She recognised him instantly. So did old Slight. So would
anybody who knew his father."
"Then why on earth didn't he kick me into the street?"
"Who can tell? Perhaps he came back to see how things were before he
disclosed himself. At any rate, he has fooled you. Oh, why do you stay
here like this, when at this very moment there may be a warrant out
for your arrest?"
Vincent Speed, to call him by his proper name, started and changed
colour. It seemed hard to lose everything just as the whole world was
in his grasp. At any rate, he would not go empty away, he would bluff
it a little longer. Let him have a week or so, and then the foe could
do as he pleased. It would be an easy matter to raise a vast sum of
money on the family estates.
"I can't go back now," he said, "I must carry on the game till I have
made it worth while. And it is a strange thing to me if Lady Dashwood
knows anything. She is too simple-minded to be able to keep up the
deception. She would show it in her manner if she had made the
discovery that I am an impostor. She is just the same to me as she
ever was. Swells of that sort are not given to conceal their feelings.
"Oh, are they not?" Mrs. Speed said bitterly, "I know better. They can
stoop like the rest of us when it suits their book to do so. Well, go
your own way, and see what you can do, Vincent. It is just possible
that when the time comes, I can find a way to win Lady Dashwood over
to our side; at least, I can use her as an advocate for clemency as
far as you are concerned."
"What do you mean by that?" Speed asked eagerly.
"I will not tell you," Mrs. Speed said with some show of firmness, "I
have let you learn too much already. And the secret is not entirely
mine. Now you go your way, and let me hear from you how things are
going. But they can only go in one way. Badly as you have used me, bad
son as you are, I can't forget that you _are_ my son. It is no fine
thing to be a woman----men never suffer as we do."
Vincent Speed went away with a troubled mind and an uneasy feeling
that some disaster was hanging over him. The more he thought over the
disclosures of the past hour, the more they puzzled him. Well, he
would have to struggle on a little longer, until he had a large sum of
money at his disposal. He drove down to Bedford Row, where the office
of the family solicitors was situated, and sent in his card to the
head of the firm. The latter received him with somewhat cold
politeness--he would like to know what he could do for Sir Vincent.
Speed went on to explain. But no response came from the clean-shaven
man on the far side of the table. Mr. Morley shook his head.
"We can't do it," he said. "In the present circumstances it is
impossible. Of course, we have many clients who would be prepared to
lend money on the Dashwood property, but we are not yet satisfied as
to--er--the legal aspect of your claim. Till that point is cleared up
to our satisfaction, we must decline both to arrange the mortgage or
even to part with the deeds relating to the property."
Speed protested, but protested in vain. And nothing moved the
iron-faced man from his purpose; he might have been a statue for all
he heeded those threats and expostulations.