The baronet looked a little blank, as the open parlour door discovered
inside a "party" he had no intention of calling upon.
Accustomed to such surprises, however, he was not disconcerted. He had
some knowledge of the ex-guardsman's character. He knew he was in
ill-luck; and that under such circumstances he would not be exactingly
inquisitive.
"Aw, Swinton, my dear fellaw," he exclaimed, holding out his kid-gloved
hand. "Delighted to see you again. Madam told me she expected you
home. I just dropped in, hoping to find you returned. Been to Paris, I
hear?"
"I have," said Swinton, taking the hand with a show of cordiality.
"Terrible times over there. Wonder you came off with a whole skin?"
"By Jove, it's about all I brought off with me."
"Aw, indeed! What mean you by that?"
"Well; I went over to get some money that's been long owing me. Instead
of getting it, I lost what little I carried across."
"How did you do that, my dear fellaw?"
"Well, the truth is, I was tempted into card-playing with some French
officers I chanced to meet at the Mille Colonnes. It was their cursed
_ecarte_. They knew the game better than I; and very soon cleared me
out. I had barely enough to bring me back again. I thank God I'm here
once more; though how I'm going to weather it this winter, heaven only
knows! You'll excuse me, Sir Robert, for troubling you with this
confession of my private affairs. I'm in such a state of mind, I scarce
know what I'm saying. Confound France and Frenchmen! I don't go among
them again; not if I know it."
Sir Robert Cottrell, though supposed to be rich, was not accustomed to
squandering money--upon men. With women he was less penurious; though
with these only a spendthrift, when their smiles could not be otherwise
obtained. He was one of those gallants who prefer making conquests at
the cheapest possible rates; and, when made, rarely spend money to
secure them. Like the butterfly, he liked flitting from flower to
flower.
That he had not dropped in hoping to find Mr Swinton, but had come on
purpose to visit his wife, the craven husband knew just as well as if he
had openly avowed it. And the motive, too; all the more from such a
shallow excuse.
It was upon the strength of this knowledge that the ex-guardsman was so
communicative about his financial affairs. It was a delicate way of
making it known, that he would not be offended by the offer of a
trifling loan.
Sir Robert was in a dilemma. A month earlier he would have much less
minded it. But during that month he had met Mrs Swinton several times,
in the Long Walk, as elsewhere. He had been fancying his conquest
achieved, and did not feel disposed to pay for a triumph already
obtained.
For this reason he was slow to perceive the hint so delicately thrown
out to him.
Swinton reflected on a way to make it more understandable. The _debris_
of the frugal _dejeuner_ came to his assistance.
"Look!" said he, pointing to the picked bones of the herring with an
affectation of gaiety, "look there, Sir Robert! You might fancy it to
be Friday. That fine fish was purchased with the last penny in my
pocket. To-morrow _is_ Friday; and I suppose I shall have to keep Lent
still more austerely. Ha! ha! ha!"
There was no resisting such an appeal as this. The close-fisted
aristocrat felt himself fairly driven into a corner.
"My dear fellaw!" said he, "don't talk in that fashion. If a fiver will
be of any service to you, I hope you will do me the favour to accept it.
I know you won't mind it from me?"
"Sir Robert, it is too kind. I--I--"
"Don't mention it. I shouldn't think of offering you such a paltry
trifle; but just now my affairs are a little queerish. I dropped a lot
upon the last Derby; and my lawyer is trying to raise a further mortgage
on my Devonshire estate. If that can be effected, things will, of
course, be different. Meanwhile, take this. It may pass you over your
present difficulty, till something turns up."
"Sir Robert, I--"
"No apology, Swinton! It is I who owe it, for the shabby sum."
The ex-guardsman ceased to resist; and the five-pound note, pressed into
his palm was permitted to remain there.
"By the bye, Swinton," said the baronet, as if to terminate the awkward
scene by obliging the borrower in a more business-like way, "why don't
you try to get something from the Government? Excuse a fellaw for
taking the liberty; but it seems to me, a man of your accomplishments
ought to stand a chance."
"Not the slightest, Sir Robert! I have no interest; and if I had,
there's that ugly affair that got me out of the Guards. You know the
story; and therefore I needn't tell it you. That would be sure to come
up if I made any application."
"All stuff, my dear fellaw! Don't let that stand in your way. It
might, if you wanted to get into the Household, or be made a bishop.
You don't aspire to either, I presume?"
The ex-guardsman gave a lugubrious laugh.
"No!" he said. "I'd be contented with something less. Just now my
ambition don't soar extravagantly high."
"Suppose you try Lord --, who has Government influence? In these
troublous times there's no end of employment, and for men whose
misfortunes don't need to be called to remembrance. Yours won't stand
in the way. I know his lordship personally. He's not at all exacting."
"You know him, Sir Robert?"
"Intimately. And if I'm not mistaken, he's just the man to serve you;
that is, by getting you some appointment? The diplomatic service has
grown wonderfully, since the breaking out of these revolutions. More
especially the _secret_ branch of it. I've reason to know that enormous
sums are now spent upon it. Then, why shouldn't _you_ try to get a pull
out of the secret service chest?"
Swinton relit his pipe, and sat cogitating.
"A pipe don't become a guardsman," jokingly remarked his guest. "The
favourites of the Foreign Office smoke only regalias."
Swinton received this sally with a smile, that showed the dawning of a
new hope.
"Take one?" continued the baronet, presenting his gold-clasped case.
Swinton pitched the briar-root aside, and set fire to the cigar.
"You are right, Sir Robert," he said; "I ought to try for something.
It's very good of you to give me the advice. But how am I to follow it?
I have no acquaintance with the nobleman you speak of; nor have any of
my friends."
"Then you don't count me as one of them?"
"Dear Cottrell! Don't talk that way! After what's passed between us, I
should be an ungrateful fellow if I didn't esteem you as the first of
them--perhaps the only friend I have left."
"Well, I've spoken plainly. Haven't I said that I know Lord--well
enough to give you a letter of introduction to him? I won't say it will
serve any purpose; you must take your chances of that. I can only
promise that he will receive you; and if you're not _too particular_ as
to the nature of the employment, I think he may get you something. You
understand me, Swinton?"
"I particular! Not likely, Sir Robert, living in this mean room, with
the remembrance of that luxurious breakfast I've just eaten--myself and
my poor wife!"
"Aw--by the way, I owe madam an apology for having so long neglected to
ask after her. I hope she is well?"
"Thank you! Well as the dear child can be expected, with such trouble
upon us."
"Shall I not have the pleasure of seeing her?"
The visitor asked the question without any pretence of indifference. He
felt it--just then, not desiring to encounter her in such company.
"I shall see, Sir Robert," replied the husband, rising from his chair,
and going toward the bedroom. "I rather suspect Fan's _en dishabille_
at this hour."
Sir Robert secretly hoped that she was. Under the circumstances, an
interview with her could only be awkward.
His wish was realised. She was not only _en dishabille_, but in bed--
with a sick headache! She begged that the baronet would excuse her from
making appearance!
This was the report brought back from the bedroom by her go-between of a
husband. It remained only for the visitor to make good his promise
about the letter of introduction.
He drew up to the table, and wrote it out, _currente calamo_.
He did not follow the usual fashion, by leaving the envelope open.
There was a clause or two in the letter he did not desire the
ex-guardsman to become acquainted with. It concluded with the words:
"_Mr Swinton is a gentleman who would suit for any service your
lordship may be pleased to obtain for him. He is a disappointed
man_..."
Wetting the gum with the tip of his aristocratic tongue, he closed the
envelope, and handed the epistle to his host.
"I know," said he, "Lord A--will be glad to serve you. You might see
him at the Foreign Office; but don't go there. There are too many
fellaws hanging about, who had better not know what you're after. Take
it to his lordship's private residence in Park Lane. In a case like
yours, I know he'd prefer receiving you there. You had better go at
once. There are so many chances of your being forestalled--a host of
applicants hungering for something of the same. His lordship is likely
to be at home about three in the afternoon. I'll call here soon after
to learn how you've prospered. Bye, my dear fellaw! good-bye!"
Re-gloving his slender aristocratic fingers, the baronet withdrew--
leaving the ex-guardsman in possession of an epistle that might have
much influence on his future fate.