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A PRINCE OF SINNERS
by
E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
Contents
PART I.
I. Mr. Kingston Brooks, Political Agent
II. The Bullsom Family at Home
III. Kingston Brooks has a Visitor
IV. A Question for the Country
V. The Marquis of Arranmore
VI. The Man who went to Hell
VII. A Thousand Pounds
VIII. Kingston Brooks makes Inquiries
IX. Henslow speaks out
X. A Tempting Offer
XI. Who the Devil is Brooks?
XII. Mr. Bullsom gives a Dinner-party
XIII. Charity the "Crime"
XIV. An Awkward Question
XV. A Supper-party at the "Queen's"
XVI. Uncle and Niece
XVII. Fifteen Years in Hell
XVIII. Mary Scott pays an Unexpected Call
XIX. The Marquis Mephistopheles
XX. The Confidence of Lord Arranmore
PART II.
I. Lord Arranmore's Amusements
II. The Heckling of Henslow
III. Mary Scott's Two Visitors
IV. A Marquis on Matrimony
V. Brooks enlists a Recruit
VI. Kingston Brooks, Philanthropist
VII. Brooks and his Missions
VIII. Mr. Bullsom is Staggered
IX. Ghosts
X. A New Don Quixote
PART III.
I. An Aristocratic Recruit
II. Mr. Lavilette interferes
III. The Singular Behaviour of Mary Scott
IV. Lord Arranmore in a New Role
V. Lady Sybil lends a Hand
VI. The Reservation of Mary Scott
VII. Father and Son
VIII. The Advice of Mr. Bullsom
IX. A Question and an Answer
X. Lady Sybil says "Yes"
XI. Brooks hears the News
XII. The Prince of Sinners speaks out
A Prince of Sinners
PART I
CHAPTER I
MR. KINGSTON BROOKS, POLITICAL AGENT
Already the sweepers were busy in the deserted hall, and the lights
burned low. Of the great audience who had filled the place only
half-an-hour ago not one remained. The echoes of their tumultuous
cheering seemed still to linger amongst the rafters, the dust which
their feet had raised hung about in a little cloud. But the long rows
of benches were empty, the sweepers moved ghostlike amongst the shadows,
and an old woman was throwing tealeaves here and there about the
platform. In the committee-room behind a little group of men were busy
with their leave-takings. The candidate, a tall, somewhat burly man,
with hard, shrewd face and loosely knit figure, was shaking hands with
every one. His tone and manner savoured still of the rostrum.
"Good-night, sir! Good-night, Mr. Bullsom! A most excellent
introduction, yours, sir! You made my task positively easy.
Good-night, Mr. Brooks. A capital meeting, and everything very well
arranged. Personally I feel very much obliged to you, sir. If you
carry everything through as smoothly as this affair to-night, I can see
that we shall lose nothing by poor Morrison's breakdown. Good-night,
gentlemen, to all of you. We will meet at the club at eleven o'clock
to-morrow morning. Eleven o'clock precisely, if you please."
The candidate went out to his carriage, and the others followed in twos
and threes. A young man, pale, with nervous mouth, strongly-marked
features and clear dark eyes, looked up from a sheaf of letters which he
was busy sorting.
"Don't wait for me, Mr. Bullsom," he said. "Reynolds will let me out,
and I had better run through these letters before I leave."
Mr. Bullsom was emphatic to the verge of gruffness.
"You'll do nothing of the sort," he declared. "I tell you what it is,
Brooks. We're not going to let you knock yourself up. You're tackling
this job in rare style. I can tell you that Henslow is delighted."
"I'm much obliged to you for saying so, Mr. Bullsom," the young man
answered. "Of course the work is strange to me, but it is very
interesting, and I don't mean to make a mess of it."
"There is only one chance of your doing that," Mr. Bullsom rejoined,
"and that is if you overwork yourself. You need a bit of looking after.
You've got a rare head on your shoulders, and I'm proud to think that I
was the one to bring your name before the committee. But I'm jolly well
certain of one thing. You've done all the work a man ought to do in one
day. Now listen to me. Here's my carriage waiting, and you're going
straight home with me to have a bite and a glass of wine. We can't
afford to lose our second agent, and I can see what's the matter with
you. You're as pale as a ghost, and no wonder. You've been at it all
day and never a break."
The young man called Brooks had not the energy to frame a refusal, which
he knew would be resented. He took down his overcoat, and stuffed the
letters into his pocket.
"You're very good," he said. "I'll come up for an hour with pleasure."
They passed out together into the street, and Mr. Bullsom opened the
door of his carriage.
"In with you, young man," he exclaimed. "Home, George!"
Kingston Brooks leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of
relief.
"This is very restful," he remarked. "We have certainly had a very busy
day. The inside of electioneering may be disenchanting, but it's jolly
hard work."
Mr. Bullsom sat with clasped hands in front of him resting upon that
slight protuberance which denoted the advent of a stomach. He had
thrown away the cigar which he had lit in the committee-room. Mrs.
Bullsom did not approve of smoking in the covered wagonette, which she
frequently honoured with her presence.
"There's nothing in the world worth having that hasn't to be worked for,
my boy," he declared, good-humoredly.
"By other people!" Brooks remarked, smiling.
"That's as it may be," Mr. Bullsom admitted. "To my mind that's where
the art of the thing comes in. Any fool can work, but it takes a shrewd
man to keep a lot of others working hard for him while he pockets the
oof himself."
"I suppose," the younger man remarked, thoughtfully, "that you would
consider Mr. Henslow a shrewd man?"
"Shrewd! Oh, Henslow's shrewd enough. There's no question about that!"
"And honest?"
Mr. Bullsom hesitated. He drew his hand down his stubbly grey beard.
"Honest! Oh, yes, he's honest! You've no fault to find with him, eh?"
"None whatever," Brooks hastened to say. "You see," he continued more
slowly, "I have never been really behind the scenes in this sort of
thing before, and Henslow has such a very earnest manner in speaking.
He talked to the working men last night as though his one desire in life
was to further the different radical schemes which we have on the
programme. Why, the tears were actually in his eyes when he spoke of
the Old Age Pension Bill. He told them over and over again that the
passing of that Bill was the one object of his political career. Then,
you know, there was the luncheon to-day--and I fancied that he was a
little flippant about the labour vote. It was perhaps only his way of
speaking."
Mr. Bullsom smiled and rubbed the carriage window with the cuff of his
coat. He was very hungry.
"Oh, well, a politician has to trim a little, you know," he remarked.
"Votes he must have, and Henslow has a very good idea how to get them.
Here we are, thank goodness." The carriage had turned up a short drive,
and deposited them before the door of a highly ornate villa. Mr.
Bullsom led the way indoors, and himself took charge of his guest's coat
and hat. Then he opened the door of the drawing-room.
"Mrs. Bullsom and the girls," he remarked, urbanely, "will be delighted
to see you. Come in!"