The revolutionary leader who had taken up his residence _vis-a-vis_ to
the McTavish villa, and whose politics were so offensive to its royal
lessee, was no other than the ex-dictator of Hungary.
The new tenant had been made aware of this before entering upon
occupation. Not by his landlord, but the man under whose instructions
he had taken the house.
The proximity of the refugee headquarters was partly the cause of Mr
McTavish being so anxious to go out. It was the sole reason why Swinton
had shown himself so anxious to come in!
Swinton had this knowledge, and no more. The motive for putting him in
possession had not yet been revealed to him. He had been instructed to
take that particular house, _coute que coute_; and he had taken it as
told, at a cost of two hundred pounds.
His patron had provided him with a cheque for three hundred. Two had
gone into the pocket of McTavish; the other remained in his own.
He had got installed in his new domicile; and seated with a cigar
between his lips--a real Havanna--was reflecting upon the comforts that
surrounded him. How different that couch, with its brocaded cover, and
soft cushions, from the hard horse-hair sofa, with its flattened squab!
How unlike these luxurious chairs to the sharp skeletons of cane, his
wife had reason to remember! While congratulating himself on the change
of fortune, he was also bethinking him of what had led to it. He had a
tolerably correct idea of _why_ he had been so favoured.
But for what purpose he had been placed in the villa, or the duty there
required of him, he was still ignorant.
He could only conjecture that he had something to do with Kossuth. Of
this he was almost certain.
He was not to remain long in the dark about his duties. At an interview
on the morning of that day, his patron had promised to send him full
instructions--by a gentleman who should "come up in the course of the
evening."
Swinton was shrewd enough to have a thought as to who this gentleman
would be; and it inspired him to a conversation with his wife, of a
nature peculiar as confidential.
"Fan?" he said, taking the cigar from his teeth, and turning towards the
couch, on which that amiable creature was reclining.
"Well; what is it?" responded she, also removing a weed from between her
pretty lips, and pouting the smoke after it.
"How do you like our new lodgings, love? Better than those at
Westbourne?"
"You don't want me to answer that question, Dick?"
"Oh, no. Not if you don't wish. But you needn't snap and snarl so."
"I am not snapping or snarling. It's silly of you to say so."
"Yes, everything's silly I say, or do either. I've been very silly
within the last three days. To get into a cosy crib like this, with the
rent paid twelve months in advance, and a hundred pounds to keep the
kitchen! More to come if I mistake not. Quite stupid of me to have
accomplished all this?"
Fan made no rejoinder. Had her husband closely scanned her countenance
at that moment, he might have seen upon it a smile not caused by any
admiration of his cleverness.
She had her own thoughts as to what and to whom he was indebted for the
favourable turn in his fortunes.
"Yes; much more to come," said he, continuing the hopeful prognostic.
"In fact, Fan, our fortune's made, or will be, if you only do--"
"Do what?" she asked, seeing that he hesitated. "What do you want me to
do next?"
"Well, in the first place," drawled he, showing displeasure at her tone,
"get up and dress yourself. I'll tell you what I want afterwards."
"Dress myself! There's not much chance of that, with such rags as are
left me!"
"Never mind the rags. We can't help it just now. Besides, love, you
look well enough for anything."
Fan tossed her head, as if she cared little for the compliment.
"Arrange the rags, as you call 'em, best way you can for to-night.
To-morrow, it will be different. We shall take a stroll among the
milliners and mantua-makers. Now, girl, go; do as I tell you!"
So encouraged, she rose from the couch, and turned towards the stairway
that conducted to her sleeping apartment.
She commenced ascending.
"Put on your best looks, Fan!" said her husband, calling after her. "I
expect a gentleman, who's a stranger to you; and I don't wish him to
think I've married a slut. Make haste, and get down again. He may be
in at any moment."
There was no response to show that the rude speech had given offence.
Only a laugh, sent back from the stair-landing.
Swinton resumed his cigar, and sat waiting.
He knew not which would be heard first--a ring at the gate-bell, or the
rustling of silk upon the stairway.
He desired the latter, as he had not yet completed the promised
instructions.
He had not much more to say, and a moment would suffice:
He was not disappointed: Fan came first. She came sweeping downstairs,
snowy with Spanish chalk, and radiant with rouge.
Without these she was beautiful, with them superb.
Long usage had made them almost a necessity to her skin; but the same
had taught her skill in their limning. Only a connoisseur could have
distinguished the paint upon her cheeks from the real and natural
colour.
"You'll do," said Swinton, as he scanned her with an approving glance.
"For, what, pray?" was the interrogatory.
It was superfluous. She more than conjectured his meaning.
"Sit down, and I'll tell you."
She sat down.
He did not proceed at once. He seemed under some embarrassment. Even
he--the brute--was embarrassed!
And no wonder, with the vile intent in his thoughts--upon the tip of his
tongue; for he intended _counselling her to shame_!
Not to the ultimate infamy, but to the seeming of it.
Only the seeming; and with the self-excuse of this limitation, he took
courage, and spoke.
He spoke thus:
"Look here, Fan. The gentleman I'm expecting, is the same that has put
us into this little snuggery. It's Lord --. I've told you what sort of
a man he is, and what power he's got. He can do wonders for me, and
will, if I can manage him. But he's fickle and full of conceit, as all
of his kind. He requires skilful management; and you must assist me."
"I assist you! In what way?"
"I only want you to be _civil_ to him. You understand me?"
Fan made no reply; but her glance of assumed incredulity told of a
perfect comprehension!
The ringing of the gate-bell interrupted the chapter of instructions.