MAITRANK STRIKES.
Meanwhile the brilliant society season was drawing to a close. Few
smart functions remained, but there would be no more dashing affair
than the forthcoming ball at Lytton Avenue. The supper was coming from
Paris, the decorations were unique, the flowers were to cost upwards
of a thousand pounds. The society papers had more or less veracious
paragraphs, a score of lady journalists were making copy of the
affair.
Thus Maitrank chuckled over his invitation. He was going to take his
vengeance for the trick played on him in his own good time. He had
purposely kept out of the way of the Countess. He set the cables in
motion, and after a due response or two he was closeted with the head
of a smart firm of lawyers in Ely Place.
"You are quite sure of my position?" he croaked.
"Quite, sir," the lawyer responded. "According to the papers drawn up
at the time, you can take possession and demand your money at any
moment. You are in the same position as a landlord distraining for
rent. If you want us to act----"
"I do," Maitrank snapped. "I wish you to act at eleven o'clock
tomorrow night. No need to stare at me like that, sir. I know what I
am doing. And I am prepared to pay you handsomely for your services."
The lawyer bowed his strange client out. He had only to obey
instructions. He went back to his desk pondering on the sensation that
society was going to get shortly. Maitrank went straight away to
Lawrence.
"I have done what you asked," he said curtly. "You are a wonderful
man, you novelist; see you at our dear friend the Countess's tomorrow.
Good night."
By the time that Maitrank had bowed with humility over the hand of his
hostess the following evening nearly all fashionable London had
gathered in those spacious suites of rooms. The decorations were
superb, unique; there was no better music to be obtained in Europe.
Folk were talking with bated breath of the great chef who had come
from Paris to superintend his supper.
It was the crowning glory of a wonderful woman's career. She stood
smiling before her guests in a dress that had cost Worth a sleepless
night. A duke was just congratulating her upon her good taste. A
couple of gorgeous footmen were casting back the curtains of the
supper room. Down below in the hall something like an altercation
seemed to be going on.
"It's a man, my lady," a blushing footman stammered. "He declines to
go away. I called in a policeman, and he showed him a paper, after
which the police went, saying it seemed all right and legal or
something like that. The fellow says he must see you."
Perhaps a creditor beyond all patience and in desperate need of
money. Leona Lalage sailed out of the room into the hall, where two
seedy-looking men awaited her.
"Well, what is it you want tonight?" she demanded, haughtily.
A long slip of paper was thrust into her hand. Her quick brain grasped
the significance. Maitrank had struck, and struck hard. These men were
in possession for nearly £100,000--vulgar bailiffs such as come and
sell the goods of poor people who cannot pay their rent. Leona Lalage
remembered now the conditions under which she had borrowed money from
Maitrank. He had her in his power. It seemed a vile thing to do when
she had put him off with the very jewels from about her neck. And she
was powerless--she could not have these men turned into the street.
Most of her guests would understand sooner or later. Tomorrow this
would be public property. Once the tongue of rumour started the crash
was bound to follow.
Leona Lalage looked round her helplessly for the first time in her
life. Maitrank stood there grinning like a hideous mask enjoying her
confusion. He had come to enjoy this where a more sensitive man would
have stayed away. Revenge to him was nothing unless he could feast his
eyes upon it.
"You scoundrel, you cur!" she hissed. "If I had a weapon in my hand, I
would kill you and die happy. Why have you done this thing?"
"Why do you foist me off with paste jewels?" Maitrank asked, coolly.
"Ah you may stare with amazement! You are a very clever actress,
madam."
"Paste?" Lalage gasped. "Paste! Why for their sake--impossible!"
"I will sell them to you for the price of your bouquet," said
Maitrank. "It is my turn now. Won't you have your guests in to
supper?"
The Countess looked round her helplessly. The sound of the music, the
ripple of laughter, the murmur of voices maddened her. She knew that
the crash must come some time, but she had not dreamt of a humiliation
like this. Lawrence came sauntering down the steps. She flew to him.
Could he help her. She was in great trouble, and she knew that she
could trust him. She owed Maitrank a lot of money; he had chosen to
humiliate her by actually putting these vulgar bailiffs in tonight, of
all times. Those pleading eyes would have melted a heart of stone.
Lawrence seemed to be greatly distressed.
"I fancy I can see a way out of the difficulty," he said. "I do not
wish to pry into your affairs, but in a novelist's business one gets
to know things. And I, too, am in a great quandary. Do you recollect
the flower farm near Ajaccio?"
"I am going mad," Leona whispered. "To allude to that tonight! Well, I
have got on in the world like other people. No need to allude to that.
What can it possibly have to do with the matter?"
"One never knows," said Lawrence. "But I see you remember. You also
remember the marvellous secret of the tuberose scent. For my own
purposes I require a little of it, my story demands it. I am talking
business now. Give me the little bottle from the Antoinette cabinet in
your boudoir, and I will get rid of those men for you."
Slowly Leona Lalage took the speaker in from head to foot. Her face
had grown deadly pale. But she could make nothing of Lawrence's face.
All the same, it was quite evident that he meant every word that he
said.
"You shall have it," she said suddenly. "How you got to know so much
of my history you shall tell me presently. But the tuberose is yours."
She flashed along the hall. Directly she was gone Lawrence signalled
to Maitrank, who stood in the background. The latter produced a letter
which he handed to the foremost of the two intruders.
"As you see, this is from the solicitor who employs you," he said. "If
I like to change my mind, and ask you to go you are to obey. I ask you
to go. Say nothing of this, and I will see you are suitably rewarded
in the morning."
The man looked and nodded. He winked at his companion, and together
they strode out of the house. With a silent laugh Maitrank crept up
the stairs.
"I trust you," he croaked. "You promised me a better vengeance than I
could get for myself. See that I get it."
"More for the sake of others you shall get it," Lawrence cried. "It's
flattering to the vanity of a novelist to have a millionaire for one
of his puppets."
The Countess came sweeping back again with one tiny phial in her hand.
Lawrence did not need to look to see that it was the right one.
Unknown to the Countess, he had had it in his possession before.
"There!" she cried. "And now to keep your part of the compact. If you
have got round Maitrank you are a genius. Where are the men?"
"Gone!" said Lawrence. "I waved my hand and they have departed.
Nobody but us three has any knowledge of the truth."
A quiet sigh escaped from the listener. She smiled again.
"It is a debt I can never repay," she said. "Will you stay after the
others have gone and tell me how you learnt my early history?"
"That is just what I should like to do," Lawrence said coolly.