THE FALL OF BELASSIS.
‘Somebody must see Belassis about this, Phil,’ said Tor, when the
matter of the will had been discussed many times over, in all its
bearings. ‘Either you as Maud’s brother, or I as her prospective
husband. Which of us shall it be?’
‘Oh, you,’ answered Phil quickly. ‘I shouldn’t know what to say.’
‘All right,’ returned Tor. ‘I’ll go—and the sooner he knows his fate,
the better.’
‘It may be vindictive on my part,’ remarked Miss Marjory, ‘but I must
say that I feel a savage satisfaction in picturing the overthrow of
Belassis.’
Maud laughed at her look and tone.
‘I’m afraid he won’t be so very much overthrown, Miss Marjory. You see,
he has quarrelled with Lewis, so he will not care so very much which
of us has the money.’
‘Perhaps he wouldn’t, if there was any money to have; but as he has
lost it all, he will care considerably. Lewis would hardly have sued
his own father and ruined him; but your natural guardians, Maud, have
no choice; and your worthy uncle will be brought to his bearings, as he
richly deserves to be.’
Maud began to look grave; but Mrs. Lorraine’s voice now took up the
word.
‘Not quite ruined—for Celia has four hundred a year settled upon her,
which cannot be touched. It will keep them from actual poverty when the
rest goes. I thought it a little hard once,’ continued Aunt Olive, with
a smile; ‘for it was half what was to have been my portion—only father
cut me off, and divided it between Maud and Celia, and settled it upon
them. I am glad now; for I should not like Celia to be robbed of all
by her bad husband, and I am so well looked after now, that I want for
nothing myself.’
‘Well, I’m glad that it’s not absolute ruin for them,’ said Tor,
pulling at his moustache. ‘Because the innocent always have to suffer
with the guilty, and it would fall hardly on his family, richly as he
deserves it all himself. Justice must be done, of course. A trustee
cannot be allowed to get off, after simply robbing the legatee of her
entire fortune; but it would make it harder to execute justice, if it
meant absolute penury for the whole family.’
‘Don’t be soft, Torrington Torwood,’ said Miss Marjory warningly;
‘remember that Belassis made Maud’s father’s life a burden to him, and
robbed Phil of every vestige of his inheritance. He is not worthy of
your compassion. If justice never overtook the wicked, the world would
come to an end faster than it is doing already.’
So after luncheon Tor started for Thornton House, with everybody’s
consent that he should make his own terms with Belassis.
Maud, of course, trusted him in everything, and would be satisfied
with whatever arrangement he chose to make. Phil knew his friend would
manage matters much better than he could do himself; and Mrs. Lorraine
always felt sure that the ‘first Phil,’ as she often called him, could
be trusted to be firm and just, and yet considerate and temperate,
with all with whom he came in contact.
Perhaps Tor did not altogether relish his errand, although there was a
certain satisfaction in confronting the foe, with the winning card in
his hand. Nevertheless, he thought the matter would be better managed
by himself than by Phil, who was likely to be too yielding one moment,
and too hard the next, according as each side of the question came
uppermost.
Again he found Mr. and Mrs. Belassis alone together in the study, and
he fancied they looked surprised and uneasy at his appearance.
He shook hands easily and pleasantly, for in spite of their many
attempts, he had never allowed himself to be drawn into a quarrel, and
had always treated them with a cheerful politeness, which even the hard
words given and received had never entirely overset.
‘I hope your late hours have not been too much for you,’ he remarked
with a smile, as he took a chair opposite Mrs. Belassis. ‘It is not
all of us who can sit up till dawn, and not feel the effects of it
afterwards.’
Dead silence followed this speech. Mr. Belassis began to grow purple.
Mrs. Belassis closed her lips tightly, and looked Tor full in the face,
with eyes which seemed as if they would fain read his very soul.
Had Betsy Long betrayed her?
‘I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Torwood,’ she said at
last.
‘No? I was alluding to your visit to Ladywell last night; and hoping
that your late, or rather early hours, and a two miles walk at the end
of it, had not disagreed with you.’
‘Ladywell!’ gasped Belassis, with his usual insane attempt to escape
from the inevitable. ‘I haven’t even been to Ladywell for weeks!’
‘Then it must have been your double I saw,’ answered Tor. ‘A double
is a nasty thing, Mr. Belassis, especially when it performs such
questionable actions as yours does—stealing into people’s houses at
the dead of night, in order to find and destroy legal papers of great
value. I should try to rid myself of such a Doppelgänger, if I were
you, or you may find it lead you into trouble some day.’
The colour had all faded from Mrs. Belassis’ face. She looked grey and
ghastly.
‘Speak out!’ she said hoarsely. ‘Say at once what it is you have come
for.’
‘I have come to thank you for a very valuable discovery which you have
enabled us to make.’
‘Discovery!’
‘Yes; the discovery of certain papers which, but for you, would without
doubt have mouldered away, unknown and unsuspected, behind the woodwork
of the Ladywell library. Your nocturnal attempts to discover these same
papers, and your certainty of their whereabouts, enabled others with
better opportunities to make the discovery you failed to do; but it is
to you, and you only, that we owe the clue. Without the information you
gave us, the papers would without doubt have remained for generations
in their hiding-place, which has so well concealed them for eighteen
years.’
‘Papers!’ gasped Belassis; ‘what papers?’
‘Betsy Long has betrayed us!’ exclaimed his wife, in the same breath.
‘Not at all,’ answered Tor quietly. ‘Your spy, whom you so cleverly and
honourably manœuvred for me to take into my service, has been loyal to
you—more loyal than such creatures generally are. I am surprised that a
clever woman like you, Mrs. Belassis, should stoop to use so clumsy a
tool. However, such good service has been done us by all this, that it
is not for me to complain. Your spy, who has been really your servant,
not ours, is coming back to you this afternoon. I wish you joy of her,
after the training you have thought fit to bestow upon her. No, she has
not betrayed you; make yourself quite easy on that score. You betrayed
yourselves by the sounds you made, and I had the pleasure and profit of
seeing and hearing a good deal that passed in the library last night.
It may be a satisfaction to you to hear that the papers you were so
anxious about have now been found; and you are welcome to see them for
yourselves any day you wish, by coming over to Ladywell.’
Mrs. Belassis was pale with rage and dismay, her husband with abject
fear.
‘What papers?’ he gasped again.
‘Philip Debenham’s last will and testament—the one you were so certain
he would frame, if he could, to cancel the one you wrung from him
by the extraordinary influence you had obtained over him. It is all
exactly as you thought. He did make another will, and hid it away at
Ladywell, out of your reach. You have betrayed your own secret, and
thanks to you, that will is now in our possession.’
Belassis could not speak. After a few minutes’ pause his wife asked:
‘And what are its terms?’
‘Not any which _ought_ to affect you—simply that Maud inherits her
mother’s fortune, principal and interest, without any condition
whatever. You best know how this transfer will affect you; as I said
before, apart from your paternal feeling for your son, the matter
should not make the smallest difference to you.’
Belassis’ face was white and rigid.
‘It will only ruin me, that’s all.’
‘You mean to say that you have lost the money?’ asked Tor coolly.
‘Yes.’
‘Then of course you will have to make good the loss.’
‘I cannot—I have been very unlucky. I don’t know how to lay my hands
upon five thousand, let alone twenty, and it will come to that and
more, with compound interest for all these years.’
‘Well, Mr. Belassis, you understand your own affairs best, but you know
the money will have to be paid.’
‘I cannot pay it, I tell you!’
‘You should have considered all that before you thought fit to
speculate with it. Now you have no alternative in the matter. You chose
to spend another person’s money, and you must repay it. The whole thing
is as plain as a pikestaff.’
‘I can’t—I tell you I can’t!’
‘You will soon find that you are obliged.’
‘I say I can’t!’ cried Belassis, waxing desperate. ‘You can’t get blood
out of a stone.’
‘No, but you can get money out of an estate. You must sell your
property, or transfer it, in part payment. The thing is perfectly
simple.’
‘What!’ groaned Belassis, driven to bay; ‘do you mean to tell me that
my own niece would dare to turn me out of my house, to die like a
dog upon the highroad, because I have been so unfortunate as to lose
some money, which I was endeavouring to turn to good account for her
benefit? Do you mean to tell me that?’
‘I mean to tell you,’ answered Tor, repressing a strong inclination to
punch the old rascal’s head, ‘that the law will oblige you to restore
stolen property. You have squandered away Maud’s inheritance in order
to enrich yourself, and now you will have to take the consequences, and
lose your own. You cannot play fast and loose with other people’s money
and not suffer for it. You cannot have your cake and eat your cake too.
You chose your own course of action, and now you must abide by the
results.’
‘My own niece would ruin me,’ moaned Belassis, ‘whom I have reared like
my own, and treated as a daughter. I never thought to see a day like
this! I could not have believed it possible. I will _not_ believe dear
Maud means to be so cruel.’
‘Now, Mr. Belassis, I think we have had enough of that,’ said Tor
firmly, and the look in his eye made Belassis quail and cease his
lamentations. ‘You have been the worst enemy the Debenhams have ever
had or are likely to have, and you know it as well as I. You made the
first Philip Debenham’s life wretched by the mysterious power you
obtained over him; and you deprived his son of all his inheritance;
for you know as well as I, that it was thanks to you that nothing
remained of the father’s property. You nearly performed the same kind
office for Maud; and it is by a mere accident that this second great
wrong has not been successfully consummated. And yet you think it well
to bring forward your claim of relationship, and hope to escape your
well-merited chastisement by throwing yourself upon the mercy of the
Debenhams! What mercy do you think you deserve from their hands?’
Belassis shrank into himself, and made no attempt at a reply. It was
his wife who spoke first.
‘What do you mean to do?’
‘I have come here to ask what you mean to do.’
‘I can’t do anything,’ groaned Belassis.
His wife gave him a look of withering contempt, and Tor said quietly:
‘You will pretty soon find you have to do something, Mr. Belassis.
What is the value of the property you own? You have about a couple of
hundred acres, and the farm, have you not, and this house?’
‘I will never give up my property!’ cried Belassis fiercely. ‘I will
fight for it to the death!’
‘Now look here, Mr. Belassis,’ said Tor, in the voice which never
failed to arrest attention, ‘I’ve not got an unlimited store of
patience, and if you exhaust it, you will find it all the worse for
yourself. You know you will have to refund to Maud the money you chose
to throw away; you understand the law better than I do, and I know that
you are responsible for its restoration. And if you force us to appeal
to the law, you will find yourself in a much worse position than if you
come to terms quietly with us. There will be all the costs to pay, and
your name will be known throughout the country as that of a dishonest
trustee. I am empowered to act for Maud, and if you will arrange
matters with me, you will find yourself fairly treated, and a due
allowance made for the value of your property; but if you go too far, I
shall simply decline to negotiate with you, and you will be forced to
sell the property at what it will fetch, in order to make good the lost
money. In these days, when land is a drug in the market, I leave you to
judge which course is most in accordance with your own interests. It is
a matter of no importance to me.’
Belassis was silenced; he began to see once again that the man before
him was more than his match.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked sullenly enough.
‘The only thing left for you to do—hand over the property to Maud, as
payment or part payment of what you owe.’
‘It is worth far more than the sum I owe.’
‘That remains to be proved. We must have a valuation. We will each
appoint an agent, and abide by their united decision. No doubt all
that can be easily arranged later. You will be fairly dealt by, Mr.
Belassis. We shall not do as we have been done by.’
‘Do you mean to insult me?’
‘Certainly not, unless the truth is an insult. If so, whose fault is
it?’
Belassis grew a dusky red. He dared not answer Tor; but it was not
pleasant to sit under his eye and hear such remarks made.
‘And I suppose I shall have to go on the parish,’ he remarked
presently. ‘My virtuous relatives will combine to drive me there.’
‘Well, you can settle that point with Mrs. Belassis,’ answered Tor.
‘As, by a lucky chance, you really did marry her, perhaps she may
consent to allow you to subsist upon her private income, which will
keep her in comfort. If she does, you will get more than you deserve at
her hands; but that is a question with which I have nothing to do. Mrs.
Belassis, no doubt, will tell you her views on it later.’
Mrs. Belassis looked as if she meant to tell her husband her views on a
variety of subjects as soon they were left in private, but all she said
was:
‘Have you finished the business upon which you came, Mr. Torwood?’
He rose, not at all unwilling to take his departure.
‘Yes, I think you understand all that is needful now. You can make
your arrangements, and communicate either with me direct, or through
Mr. Twyne, as you like best. If you wish to see the late Philip
Debenham’s will you can do so. We will not hurry you needlessly, but
remember that we wish to avoid unnecessary delays, which can only be a
vexation to both parties.’
And then Tor bowed himself out, feeling that Mrs. Belassis would
soon bring her husband to sense and reason, and that he could now,
metaphorically speaking, wash his hands of all further dealings with
them.
He had not got very far from the house before he met Maud, who had come
out with the intention of waylaying him.
‘Well, Tor,’ she said, ‘what has happened? How did they take it?’
‘Pretty much as one might have expected—he like a coward and a sneak,
she like a proud woman. She’s no favourite of mine, Mrs. Belassis, but
she has good pluck.’
‘And—and—is what Miss Marjory said true? Will they be——’
‘Ruined? Well, not absolutely, because Mrs. Belassis has property; but
they will have to sell their place; and I should think they would
prefer to retire from this part of the country altogether.’
‘Oh, what a good thing!’ cried Maud, with enthusiasm. ‘I never could
bear to think of living near Uncle and Aunt Belassis; and yet I do so
like Ladywell, and should not care to go far away. You are going to
live somewhere near here when—when we’re married, aren’t you, Tor?’
‘Yes, certainly; if you wish it, little sweetheart! What should you say
to Thornton House?’
‘I _hate_ Thornton House!’ cried Maud, with energy and decision.
‘You mustn’t hate it, Maud; for it will soon be your own property.’
‘Mine!’
‘Yes; it is the only way Belassis can pay what he owes, by making over
the property to you. I knew you wanted a house near Ladywell, and I
have means to keep it up; so, as it seemed the only way of getting the
money, it stands just as I have said.’
Maud’s face brightened, and she began to smile.
‘It’s delightful to think of having a house of our own, Tor; and it
seems to bring things so home to one, when it is really almost settled;
only—only—I did so hate Thornton House when I lived there—I have always
hated it!’
‘It will not be Thornton House under us, Maud; we will call it Ladywell
Lodge. And I’ll undertake that when the present occupants have cleared
out with all their belongings, and my work-people have been all through
the house, decorating and furnishing, and when Miss Marjory has laid
out the gardens anew, I’ll undertake then that you shall not know the
place again. Will that satisfy you?’
Maud looked up at him with dancing eyes.
‘Of course it will! I should be satisfied with anything in the world,
if you had the arranging of it!’
‘It could be made a very pretty place, I have often thought,
differently arranged both inside and out. Mr. and Mrs. Belassis were
hardly people of taste; and their house and garden show it. You and I,
Maud, will make it look very different.’
‘Oh yes!’ cried Maud eagerly. ‘I’m sure we can. And when it is once
_our_ house, and Ladywell Lodge, it will never remind me one bit of
that horrid old Thornton House. Oh, we shall be very, very happy! I
can’t understand sometimes how it is that I am so happy, and that
everything has come round so delightfully! Suppose Phil had not had
that sunstroke, and you had not come over! Oh dear! oh dear! I believe
I should have been Mrs. Lewis Belassis by this time!’
‘Horrid thought!’ laughed Tor, pressing closer to him the little hand
which lay upon his arm. ‘You never seem to have borne me any malice for
the trick I played upon you, Maud; and the unwarrantable liberties I
took.’
She looked up, smiling archly.
‘I hardly had time to get thoroughly angry with you, before you came
and surprised me in the garden. I never had any chance of showing how
dignified I can be when I am offended.’
‘You certainly never did show it. I think I came off with flying
colours all round. I had always looked forward with some dread to
facing you all, after the revelation was made; but even that did not
prove a very trying ordeal!’
‘You bad boy!’ said Maud; ‘you took care to get your own way with me,
as you do with everybody else. Why did you never confide in me, Tor;
and tell me the truth, when you began to get uneasy about how things
would turn out? I think you might have trusted me.’
‘So I did; but I felt it would make your position a very trying one.
Indeed, I think it would have been worse for both of us. And how could
I tell how you would like to hear of your brother’s helplessness, and
see another acting in his place? It might have turned you against me!’
‘Oh, Tor!’ said Maud; ‘you know you don’t think that!’
‘What?’
‘That I should ever have turned against you?’
‘Why should you not?’
She looked up at him and shook her head gravely.
‘You can’t guess, of course?’
‘I was never much of a hand at guessing.’
‘No? Well, then you had better remain in ignorance.’
‘I don’t want to remain in ignorance. I want you to tell me.’
‘As if you did not know!’
‘Tell me, I say.’
‘I’m not sure if I will.’
‘But I am—quite sure. Come, Maud; how long am I to be kept waiting?’
‘You deserve to be kept all night, you tyrant! but you always do manage
to get your own way. You know it is because—I love you with my whole
heart!’
And with that answer Tor seemed content.