COLD COMFORT
In an aimless kind of way Speed stepped into the street and turned his
steps in the direction of the City. It had occurred to him almost in
the light of an inspiration that Horace Mayfield might be of use at
this juncture. Mayfield's office was full of clients; the place had an
air of prosperity. But the head of the firm looked tired and jaded as
Speed came into his private room; the fingers on his cigarette shook
terribly.
"Sit down," Mayfield said curtly, "I have been wondering what had
become of you. I have been expecting to hear about that sum of money
we spoke of. Now that you have come so easily into the estate there
can be no difficulty. The man who calls himself Ralph Darnley
evidently is not aware of his own identity."
"Oh, isn't he?" Speed sneered, "that's just where you make the
mistake. I have had no end of an eye-opener this morning, in fact,
what you might call a regular staggerer. It came from my mother. I
wish that I had taken her into my confidence from the first. But
perhaps I had better tell you all about it."
"It would perhaps be as well," Mayfield said grimly. "Go on."
Speed proceeded to tell his story. Long before he had finished
Mayfield's grey face became still more ashen and the fingers on his
cigarette trembled visibly.
"So the ship has foundered," he said. "I've got a shrewd idea as to
the game that Darnley is playing. I took that man for a fool. As a
matter of fact, he is the cleverest chap I ever came across. To be
candid, I did his father out of a lot of money. I played much the same
game with Sir George Dashwood. And it seemed to me that Ralph Darnley
was going to take it lying down. He made no face; he took no
proceedings. And then it came upon me like a thunderbolt. At the time
he was working up a case against me. He put it into the hands of the
cleverest firm of criminal lawyers in London. He arranged such a
damning lot of facts before me that I was bound to sacrifice
everything to save a prosecution. I scraped the money together from
all kinds of sources. I robbed other clients to get it. At the moment
all my speculations go wrong, of course. I'm in a desperate hole,
Speed; there isn't a man in London who is in such a hole today. If I
don't get £30,000 by Monday I shall have to bolt--and there is no safe
place to bolt to nowadays. You will have to get me this money on
mortgage."
"But I can't," Speed protested. "I went to the family lawyers just
now, and they refused to have anything to do with it. Said they were
by no means satisfied as to my legal position. They went so far as to
declare they not only decline to raise money on the estate, but they
refuse to give up the deeds."
Something like a groan came from Mayfield's lips, but his busy brain
was working all the time. He saw where the difficulty lay. With Ralph
out of the way he could, and would, crush Speed like a fly. He would
expose the impostor without mercy, and then things would revert to the
old order as they were before Ralph Darnley appeared.
An accident to Ralph Darnley! The real owner of the estate out of the
way! Properly manipulated, this might mean the recovery of that money
from Darnley's solicitors. It would at any rate mean the return of
George Dashwood to his own once more, the putting of the screw on
Mary. The idea whirled in Mayfield's mind like a dazzling wheel. He
did not dare to look at Speed; he was afraid of the tale his eyes
might tell.
"I must have time to think this over," he said. "Meanwhile, you had
better return to Dashwood as if nothing out of the common had
happened. I'll come down and dine with you tomorrow night and stay
till the morning. Then get hold of this so-called Darnley, and see if
you can pump any further information out of him. If you could possibly
induce him to dine with us so much the better. Only, if I were you, I
should not say that you had asked me. I've got a scheme working in my
mind, but it is not quite safe as yet, so we need not discuss it."
"All right," Speed said moodily, "you are a much cleverer chap than I
am, and I shall rely on you to find some way out of the trouble. When
I think what is slipping through my fingers like this, I could commit
murder."
Speed spoke vehemently, with a voice that rasped hoarsely. Mayfield
started, to find that his thoughts and Speed's were running in such
parallel grooves. He made a gesture of impatience, indicating that he
should like to be alone. Speed lounged out, lunched freely, and, with
the courage that is born of wine, took his way to the station with a
resolve to return to Dashwood without delay.
Everything seemed just the same there; there was no suggestion that
anybody knew of the deceit which had been practised on the old house.
Even Slight appeared to be more respectful than usual, but this was
all prearranged; Ralph had travelled down by the same train as Speed,
and Slight was fresh from an interview with the man whom he called his
master. It was after tea that Speed went over to the dower house. His
heart was beating a little faster than usual; he felt his colour come
and go as Lady Dashwood came into the garden with a basket and a pair
of scissors in her hand. Her greeting was cold and formal as usual;
but Speed could not detect any change in her manner.
"Let me hold the basket for you," he said graciously. "You are going
to get some roses?"
"Yes," Lady Dashwood replied, "I prefer to arrange my own flowers. And
I have a young friend coming to stay with me tomorrow, an acquaintance
of Mary's."
So far all was well, for the speaker did not refer to Mary as Miss
Dashwood; it was evident to Speed that he was still regarded as one of
the family. He wondered if Lady Dashwood had any idea as to his real
identity.
"I saw Mary today," he said. "She had been lodging with a woman I
know, a Mrs. Speed. She has been very unfortunate of late, and----"
"I know Mrs. Speed quite well," Lady Dashwood replied. "Her father
was a tenant on the estate many years ago. And I have heard all about
the misfortune. In fact, I was in London yesterday, and called upon
Mrs. Speed, who had written to me. What is the matter?"
"A thorn from one of the roses," Speed said in some confusion, "in my
finger."
He was staggered at the information delivered in Lady Dashwood's
quiet, level voice. Why had his mother not told him? Why had she
withheld this fact from him? Perhaps she had forgotten it in the
agitation of the startling disclosures of the morning. But Speed took
fresh heart of grace from the news. That Lady Dashwood was not talking
at him he felt certain; her voice was too matter of fact for that.
"That's a strange thing," Speed continued to say in a fairly steady
voice. "I did not know it before. Let me get the roses for you from
the top of the tree, they are so much finer. Have you seen anything of
Ralph Darnley lately?"
"Not for a day or two," Lady Dashwood replied. "He has been in London,
but I believe that he is coming back some time today, and I should not
be surprised if he came over here later."
As a matter of fact Ralph put in an appearance before the basket of
roses was filled. If the suspicions of Speed had been rocked to sleep,
they were awakened now, when he saw the way in which Lady Dashwood
smiled at the newcomer. There was real affection in her glance; the
pressure of her hand was warm and clinging.
"So you have come back again," she said, "I have quite missed you. And
I have felt so lonely all day. Won't you take pity on me and dine with
me tonight?"
Ralph expressed his gratification at the request. There was no fault
to find with his manner towards Speed. The latter was puzzled and
worried.
"You have not dined with me yet," he said. "What do you say to coming
in tomorrow at half-past seven? Positively, I won't take a refusal."
Ralph hesitated just for a moment. Perhaps a feeling of curiosity
moved him, for he inclined his head presently with a smile.
It was hard work to keep up appearances with this man, but it was not
going to be for much longer. Ralph had made up his mind to that as
soon as he had parted with Mary that morning.
"I shall be pleased," he said, "Lady Dashwood, won't you let me come
into the house and help to arrange those flowers? I have a woman's
weakness for that sort of thing. You should see how the roses grow in
California."
The pair walked towards the house and Speed lounged away. On the whole
he had no cause to be dissatisfied with the afternoon's work. He was
still puzzled and uneasy, but Lady Dashwood's manner had gone a long
way to reassure him. But he was frightened over Lady Dashwood's visit
to his mother. He was inclined to be bitter against the latter because
she had not told him. The problem still filled his mind as he reached
the Hall and stumbled into the dining-room. He poured himself out a
large glass of whisky and soda, and took a cigarette from the silver
box on the table. And there on the table beside the cigarettes lay a
telegram. Speed tore it open and rapidly cast his eye over the
contents:--
"Make no mistake as to Darnley tomorrow night. He must dine
with you. All arrangements made and plan complete. Wire reply
immediately.--Mayfield."
Speed chuckled to himself as he filled in the reply form. If Mayfield
had laid his plans after his own fashion then success was bound to
follow.