On the same day that these events are occurring on the far Kaffrarian
border, two men are seated together in a dingy office just out of
Chancery Lane. One is a solicitor, evidently the presiding genius of
the place--a man with a high, bald forehead, iron-grey hair, and a keen,
intellectual face; the other is a tall, dark, military-looking man,
faultlessly attired, who sits impatiently tapping his boots with his
cane while he listens to the lawyer in a half-incredulous and wholly
discontented frame of mind, which betrays itself only too plainly in his
eyes. A striking-looking man, in age about five-and-thirty; but there
is an unmistakable air of dissipation, not to say excess, about the
lines of the handsome face--the air of one who had lived too hard and
too fast, and would be prematurely old. And a superciliousness about
the mouth which the short black moustache did not conceal, and a cold,
unscrupulous look in the eyes, would effectually prevent the face from
ever being a pleasing one.
Ralph Truscott, late Captain in Her Majesty's --th Foot, was a firm
believer in the adage, "All's fair in love and war"--in the former half
of it literally, as more than one rather shady episode in his gallant
career might serve to show, were it known, which it was not, even within
his intimate circle; in the latter half as representing the multifold
'cute devices whereby he had staved off and otherwise evaded the just or
unjust demands of a swarm of importunate creditors, Jew and Gentile. In
a word, the man was a born spendthrift; and having run through one large
fortune, and a second smaller one, in an incredibly short space of time,
found himself compelled to sell, and had been living upon his wits and
high play ever since. Not that he had degenerated into a mere card-room
sharper--far from it--but he was noted as a man with an extraordinary
run of luck; and though some held significantly aloof from him in
connection with the card-table or the billiard-room, yet, on the whole,
he had not lost caste. Of course it had occurred to him that he might
retrieve his fallen fortunes by picking up an heiress. It ought not to
be difficult, for he was just the sort of individual who, gifted with a
striking exterior and unlimited assurance, might carry things pretty
much as he pleased among the society women of his--or of any--set. But
this course was open to two objections. One lay in his own inner
consciousness, which made him fully aware that in three years, at the
outside, he would inevitably have run through the lady's fortune, in
which case he would find himself again destitute, and saddled with a
wife to boot; the other, in the fact that though heiresses themselves
might be soft of heart and compliant of head, their parents or guardians
were not. Indeed, some of these, in the obduracy of their stony hearts,
had been known to veto the transaction forthwith; while others, after a
few private inquiries into the circumstances and antecedents of this
enterprising individual, had briefly refused to entertain any of his
proposals, and had carried off their charges out of harm's way. So,
Captain Ralph, repeatedly thwarted in his schemes of advancement, was
compelled perforce to abandon them. He consoled himself, however, with
the thought that after all it was better to be a free man, even if
living was somewhat precarious, and gave up laying siege to the fair
sex, with an eye to the main chance. But meanwhile his liabilities
decreased not, and at the time the reader has the honour of making his
acquaintance, he was, to use his own expression, "at his last kick" for
want of the needful.
Such was the man who now sat in the inner office of Messrs. Grantham and
Grantham, solicitors, in close confabulation with the senior partner.
"Then you can give me no more positive information?" he was saying.
"I'm sorry to say we can't," replied the lawyer. "The young lady left
England more than four years ago--went to the Cape, I believe, as
governess or companion, or something or other in that line. Since then
we have heard nothing of her."
"Do you think she is out there still?"
"My dear sir, it is impossible for us to say. I repeat that it was more
than four years ago, and that we have not heard one word of her since."
"Well, I am surprised that you, of all people, should be so blankly
ignorant of her whereabouts, considering that it might be necessary to
communi--" He checked himself hurriedly, seeing that he had let out too
much. "I mean--that her friends might be making inquiries after her."
The faintest possible smile lurked round the corners of the lawyer's
mouth. He fancied that the other had let down his guard in that
incautious speech into which vexation had betrayed him. And it was even
so.
"You are very interested in this lady's whereabouts," he said.
"Naturally. We are relations--distant relations, that is."
"Indeed! How, may I ask?"
"Well, you know--hang it all, I'm a deuced bad hand at pedigrees and all
that sort of thing, but we are, in a way, cousins, on the mother's
side," replied Truscott, testily, in a sort of tone which resented the
doubt thrown upon his statement by the other's inquisitiveness.
"I see," said the lawyer, balancing a paper-cutter upon his forefinger.
But though his features preserved their polite imperturbability, the
fact was, he did not believe one word of this statement. "Let me see,
though," he went on, musingly; "I know who might be able to give you
some information."
"Who?" asked Truscott, eagerly looking up.
"Miss Dynevard, of Dynevard Chase. She, you are aware, is Miss
Strange's stepsister."
The other's countenance fell. He was more disappointed than he cared to
say. Eveline Dynevard was the last person he could communicate with on
the subject.
"Er--yes; of course," he said, hurriedly. "I had forgotten. I will
write to Miss Dynevard."
"Can I make the inquiry for you?" asked the lawyer, politely.
"No--no, thanks. I needn't trouble you further. Much obliged; good
morning," and taking up his hat Truscott made his way out into the
street.
The lawyer went to the window and watched him turn the dingy corner.
"John," he said to his brother and junior partner, who at that moment
entered. "You saw that chap who just went out from here. He's got an
inkling of the contents of old Dynevard's will. I read him like a book
as he sat there, clumsily trying to fish out the whereabouts of Miss
Strange."
"H'm! Has he?" grunted John Grantham, who was the greatest possible
contrast to his more astute brother, in that he was short, red-faced,
and irritable. "He didn't succeed, I hope?"
"No. I couldn't have told him if I had wanted to, for the simple reason
that I don't know. But he says he's her cousin."
"Hanky-panky," replied the other, with a contemptuous snort. "I don't
believe a word of it. It's easy to see what he's after. And it would
be a bad day for Lilian Strange, or indeed for any other pretty girl,
when that rascal got making up to her. I know Master Ralph Truscott and
his goings on, a good deal better than he thinks."
"Well, it's my opinion that the young lady's married long ago. An
attractive girl like that is sure to be able to pick and choose in a
country where gentlewomen are scarce, I should imagine."
"Bless my soul--yes," assented the other, changing his coat, and
brushing his hat, preparatory to a start for home. "And the sooner
friend Truscott goes to the devil, the better for society at large; he's
going there as fast as he can, as it is."
Meanwhile, the subject of this charitable remark was seated in a hansom
with his face turned westward.
"That damned lawyer was lying," he mused, "lying all the time. I could
see it in his face, and it's those chaps' trade to lie. He could have
told me if he had chosen. Never mind, I'll be even with him yet. I'll
go to the Cape; by Jove, I will, and at once; the sooner the better, and
this place is getting too hot for me just now. A few months of travel
and sport, and it'll cool down again, and then, if I find the fair
Lilian--Find her? I must find her, and I will." Then a suggestion,
which Mr Grantham had thrown out, crossed his mind, and he turned hot
and cold over the idea.
"I think it not improbable that we might have to seek for her under
another name," the lawyer had said. "Miss Strange, you are aware, was a
young lady of considerable attractions. She may have married."
"No, she will not," repeated Truscott to himself, "I know her better
than that. Unless--I don't know. Time works queer changes. What a
fool I was ever to let her out of my sight! And yet how could I tell
that she would ever be worth keeping in it? It was the merest fluke
that took me to Doctors' Commons this morning, and a still greater one
that moved me to look at old Dynevard's will. I'll go out and look for
her, the game's worth the candle, and, by George, if I win--and why
shouldn't I? She will almost throw herself into my arms, if only as a
contrast to the Kafirs and Boers she is living amongst. Then I'll turn
over a new leaf. I could with Lilian, almost, I think. I never saw any
woman to come up to her, unless it was--well, never mind. Yes, my luck
is on the turn. Nearly six years ago, though. I wonder what she's like
now."
He chuckled gleefully to himself as he leaned back in the cab and
lighted a cigar. Then a thought struck him, and opening the trap in the
roof he shouted a direction to the driver. The man turned his horse's
head and in a moment was speeding away Citywards. Somehow, the reader
has already seen the dusty office-door before which Truscott leaped out
of his cab, as also the sharp boy who opened it.
"Is your master in?"
The boy nodded and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Quickly mounting
the stairs Truscott found himself in the same dingy apartment wherein
Claverton had sat, several years previously.
"Hullo, where's Morkum?" he asked, disappointedly.
"He is out for de day, sair," replied the occupant of the room, a
hook-nosed son of Benjamin, rising from the table at which he was
seated, and washing his hands with invisible soap, a process they
greatly needed with the material article. "Can I not do anydings for
you?"
"Yes, you can, Schultz," said the other, in a conciliatory tone. "The
fact is, I want to renew."
The Jew looked keenly at him, and his little eyes twinkled maliciously.
"I can't do it, sair. De monish, you see, must be paid. It is
over-due--over-due."
"What's the amount now?"
"Fifteen hundred and twenty-fife--six," answered Schultz, having duly
consulted a ponderous tome bound in leather.
"The devil! Now look here, Schultz. We'll renew, say for three months,
and you shall let me have the odd five hundred on your own terms."
"No, sair. Mishter Morkum he said he cood not renew. I was haf de
monish or--" and the speaker shrugged his shoulders in a way that was
highly suggestive.
"But don't you see, Schultz, I must renew, at any rate," said the other,
angrily. "Don't be a damned fool now. I'm on a good thing, I tell you,
and you shall be paid in full in a few months' time. Don't you see?"
But the Israelite apparently did not see. He was as obdurate towards
this Gentile, as the Egyptian Gentile had erewhile been towards his own
ancestors. He only shrugged his shoulders and repeated: "Mishter
Morkum, he say I was haf de monish. Fifteen hundred and twenty-fife--
six."
Then Truscott saw that it was useless, and, unfortunately for him, his
temper got the better of him. He raved, and swore, and shook his fist
under the other's nose, threatening him with swift and sudden
annihilation, and abusing him and his partner in a torrent of the
coarsest invective he could lay tongue to. But of his violence the
little Jew was not one whit afraid, for his hand was in his coat-pocket
and his fingers were grasping the butt of a revolver. His wicked little
eyes sparkled like those of a rhinoceros, and the short grey bristles
stood up upon his upper lip, as he turned upon Truscott in wrath.
"Hein! Vat do you shay? You shall not bully me, I can tell you dat
much. You call yourself a shentelman, inteed? Yesh, you shall repent
of this, ven you are in shail, dat's vere you shall be. If you come a
step nearer, I shall shoot you," he went on, producing his weapon, for
Truscott in another minute would have seized him by the throat and
dashed him to the floor. But a bullet-wound would in no wise facilitate
the success of his enterprise, if the result were no worse, and this he
had the sense to see in a glimmering of reason which flashed in upon his
rage. So he stopped, and, shaking his fist at the Jew, rushed from the
room with a final curse--the parting epithet and scornful laugh flung
after him by that worthy in no wise tending to allay his ire.
"Say, sonny," remarked the cabman to the smart boy at the door. "The
Kernel's dustin' your guv'nor's jacket, ain't he?" For the row going on
upstairs was in a measure audible in the street.
"Reckon he'll be the fust what's done it--and the last," replied the
imp, pulling a handful of nuts from his breeches-pocket, and proceeding
to crack them. Then Truscott emerged, and, flinging himself into the
cab, started off westward.
"What a fool I was to get in a rage with the brute!" he thought,
bitterly. "An utter fool! Now I've about done for myself, unless I can
get away at once. I'm starting on a fool's errand, though. Six years--
or even five; it's a long time. She may laugh in my face even if I find
her; and then again--Hang it! I'll just have another look at the will
to make sure. No; it's right enough, though. Still, I'm starting off
on a regular fool's errand. I've a good mind to give it up--a devilish
good mind. But nothing venture, nothing win."
The last ray of the sickly September sunlight was slanting garishly over
the dust and whirl and roar of the great city, as he alighted at the
steps of his club. Yes, a change would do him good, he thought, looking
around; and when he came back, why, then--Somehow he felt certain of
winning the game which he had set himself to play, and was quite elate.
But the only thorn in his side--and a very sharp one it was--lay in the
haunting fear lest the Jew should have him arrested before he could get
away. And he could not get away for nearly a week. He would go down in
the morning and see Morkum himself, and make it all right with that
dirty little Schultz. Morkum was a reasonable fellow, and would be sure
to renew, if not to accommodate him further, once an inkling of the case
was laid before him; and as for Schultz, why, a bottle of champagne and
a slap on the back would salve his wounded feelings.
With this comforting resolve, Truscott dined sumptuously, and, in high
good-humour, started off to a friendly rubber, at which he reckoned to
make some nice little pickings. It was a fine evening--he would walk;
so, lighting a cigar, he stepped out briskly, humming a popular tune,
and thinking over his prospects if this move succeeded.
Before he had gone far, some one accosted him.
"Beg pardon, Capting. Sorry to trouble a gentleman--"
"What the devil do you want?" cried Truscott, angrily, an uncomfortable
idea taking hold of him.
"I must arrest you, Capting, at the soot of Silas B. Morkum and Co,"
replied the other, touching him on the shoulder. "Very sorry, sir,
extremely sorry; but dooty is dooty--ain't that right, Tom?"
"Tom," a thin, quiet-looking individual, who might be anything, from a
Russian spy to a Methodist class leader, nodded, and replied:
"That's so, Bill."
"But look here," cried Truscott, "I'm going down to see Morkum the first
thing in the morning. Can't we make some arrangement for to-night? The
fact is, I've got an important engagement now."
The sheriff's officer smiled pityingly.
"Extremely sorry, Capting, but the thing can't be done. We'll jest go
quietly to my little crib now, and in the morning you can send and let
your friends know. Here's the writ; better look at it for yourself,
Capting, and see that all's fair, square, and above-board. Fifteen
hundred and twenty-five--six. Cab, Tom."
"Damn the writ!" cried Truscott, savagely.
And then, as they entered the rickety, jolting vehicle, he relapsed into
silence. Fifteen hundred and twenty-five pounds! It might be fifteen
million for all the chance there was of his being able to pay a third of
it; for even he had at last come to the end of his tether. And no one
would be likely to help him either; and this scheme, upon which he had
been building such hopes, must fall through, for every day was of
importance now. And all its glowing chances looked fairer than ever now
that he was compelled to abandon it; and his bright castles in the air
seemed crumbling away in the very dust. So, with rage and despair in
his heart, Ralph Truscott alighted at the door of the low
sponging-house--his prison; whither he was consigned at the suit of
Silas B. Morkum and Co, and whence he should not depart until he had
satisfied the debt to the very last farthing; a requirement which at
present he saw remarkably small prospect of fulfilling.