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A MASTER OF DECEPTION
[Illustration: "'You see, uncle--this one; as it were, death reduced
to its lowest possible denomination'" (_see page_ 99).]
A MASTER
OF DECEPTION
By
Richard Marsh
Author of "Twin Sisters," "The Lovely Mrs. Blake,"
"The Interrupted Kiss," etc., etc.
With a Frontispiece by
DUDLEY TENNANT
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne
1913
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
1. The Inclining of a Twig.
2. His Uncle And His Cousin.
3. Rodney Elmore the First.
4. The Three Girls and the Three Telegrams.
5. Stella.
6. Gladys.
7. Mary.
8. By The 9.10: The First Part of the Journey.
9. The Second.
10. In the Carriage--Alone.
11. The Stranger.
12. Marking Time.
13. Spreading His Wings.
14. Business First, Pleasure Afterwards.
15. Mabel Joyce.
16. Thomas Austin, Senior.
17. The Acting Head of the Firm.
18. The Perfect Lover.
19. The Few Words at the End of the Evening.
20. The First Line of an Old Song.
21. The Dead Man's Letter.
22. Philip Walter Augustus Parker.
23. Necessary Credentials.
24. Lovers Parting.
25. Stella's Betrothal Feast.
26. Good Night.
27. The Gentleman's Departure and the Lady's Explanation.
28. A Conspiracy of Silence.
A MASTER OF DECEPTION
CHAPTER I
THE INCLINING OF A TWIG
When Rodney Elmore was eleven years old, placards appeared on the
walls announcing that a circus was coming to Uffham. Rodney asked his
mother if he might go to it. Mrs. Elmore, for what appeared to her to
be sufficient reasons, said "No." Three days before the circus was to
come he went with his mother to Mrs. Bray's house, a little way out of
Uffham, to tea. The two ladies having feminine mysteries to discuss,
he was told to go into the garden to play. As he went he passed a
little room, the door of which was open. Peeping in, as curious
children will, something on a corner of the mantelpiece caught his
eye. Going closer to see what it was, he discovered that there were
two half-crowns, one on the top of the other. The desire to go to the
circus, which had never left him, gathered sudden force. Here were the
means of going. Whipping the two coins into the pocket of his
knickerbockers, he ran from the room and into the garden.
During the remainder of the afternoon the half-crowns were a burden to
him. Not because he was weighed down by a sense of guilt; but because
he feared that their absence would be discovered; that they would be
taken from him; that he would be left poor indeed. He kept down at the
far end of the garden, considering if it would not be wiser to conceal
them in some spot from which he would be able to retrieve them at the
proper time. But Mrs. Bray's was at, what to him was, a great distance
from his own home; he might not be able to get there again before the
eventful day. When the maid came to fetch him in the coins were still
in his pocket; they were still there when he left the house with his
mother.
On the eventful day his mother had to go to London. Before she went
she told Rodney that she had given the servant money to take him to
the circus. This was rather a blow to the boy, since he found himself
possessed of money which, for its intended purpose, was useless. He
had hidden the half-crowns up the chimney in his bedroom. Aware that
it might not be easy to explain how he came to be the owner of so much
cash, there they remained for quite a time. So far as he knew, nothing
was said by Mrs. Bray about the money which had gone; certainly no
suspicion attached to him.
Later he went to a public school. During the third term he went with
the school bicycle club for a spin. The master in charge had a spill.
As he fell some coins dropped out of his pocket. Rodney, who was the
only one behind him, saw a yellow coin roll into a rut at the side of
the road. Alighting, he pressed his foot on it, so that it was covered
with earth. Then, calling to the others, who, unconscious of what had
happened, were pedalling away in front, he gave first aid to the
injured. The master had fallen heavily on his side. He had sprained
something which made it difficult for him to move. A vehicle was
fetched, which bore him back to school, recovery having first been
made of the coins which had been dropped. It was only later he
discovered that a sovereign was missing. The following day a
search-party went out to look for it, of which Rodney Elmore was a
member. They found nothing. As they were starting back Rodney
perceived that his saddle had worked loose. He stayed behind to
tighten it. When he spurted after the others the sovereign was in his
pocket. Mr. Griffiths was reputed to be poor. It was Elmore who
suggested that a subscription should be started to reimburse him for
his loss. When Mr. Griffiths heard of the suggestion--while he
laughingly declined to avail himself of the boy's generosity--he took
Elmore's hand in a friendly grip. Then he asked the lad if he would
oblige him by going on an errand to the village. While he was on the
errand Rodney changed the sovereign, which he would have found it
difficult to do in the school.
At the end of the summer term in his last year Elmore was invited by a
schoolboy friend named Austin to spend part of the holidays with him
in a wherry on the Broads. Mrs. Elmore told him that she would pay his
fare and give him, besides, a small specified sum which she said would
be sufficient for necessary expenses. Her ideas on that latter point
were not those of her son. Rodney's notions on such subjects were
always liberal. Good at books and games, he was one of the most
popular boys in the school. Among other things, he was captain of
cricket. At the last match of the season he played even unusually
well, carrying his bat through the innings with nearly two hundred
runs to his credit, having given one of the finest displays of hard
hitting and good placing the school had ever seen. He was the hero of
the day; owing to his efforts his side had won. Flushed with victory,
with the plaudits of his admirers still ringing in his ears, he
strolled along a corridor, cricket-bag in hand. He passed a room, the
door of which was open. A room with an open door was apt to have a
fatal fascination for Rodney Elmore; if opportunity offered, he could
seldom refrain from peeping in. He peeped in then. On a table was a
canvas bag, tied with a string. He recognised it as the bag which
contained the tuck-shop takings. Since the tuck-shop had had a busy
day, the probability was that the bag held quite a considerable sum.
He had been wondering where the money was coming from to enable him to
cut a becoming figure during his visit to Austin. Stepping quickly
into the room, he emptied the canvas bag into his cricket-bag; then,
going out again as quickly as he had entered, he continued his
progress.
He was on his way to one of the masters, named Rumsey, who edited the
school magazine, his object being to hand him a corrected proof of
certain matter which was to appear in the forthcoming issue. He took
the proof out of his cricket-bag, which he opened in the master's
presence. Having stayed to have a chat, he returned with Mr. Rumsey
along the corridor. As they went they saw one of the school pages come
hurriedly out of the room in which, as Rodney was aware, there was an
empty canvas bag. Mr. Rumsey commented on the speed at which the youth
was travelling.
"Isn't that young Wheeler? He seems in a hurry. I wish he would always
move as fast."
"Perhaps he's tearing off on an errand for Mr. Taylor."
As he said this Rodney carelessly swung his cricket-bag, being well
aware that the coins within were so mixed up with his sweater, pads,
gloves, and other accessories that they were not likely to make their
presence audible. At the end of the corridor they encountered Mr.
Taylor himself. Mark Taylor was fourth form master and manager of the
tuck-shop. Nodding, he went quickly on. Mr. Rumsey was going one way,
Rodney the other. They lingered at the corner to exchange a few
parting words. Suddenly Mr. Taylor's voice came towards them down the
corridor.
"Rumsey! Elmore! Who's been in my room?"
"Been in your room?" echoed Mr. Rumsey. "How should I know?" Then
added, as if it were the result of a second thought: "We just saw
Wheeler come out."
"Wheeler?" In his turn, Mr. Taylor played the part of echo. "He just
came rushing past me; I wondered what his haste meant. You saw him
come out of my room? Then---- But he can't have done a thing like
that!"
"Like what? Anything wrong?"
"There seems to be something very much wrong. Do you mind coming
here?"
Retracing their steps, Mr. Rumsey and Elmore joined the agitated Mr.
Taylor in his room. He made clear to them the cause of his agitation.
"You see this bag? It contained to-day's tuck-shop takings--more than
ten pounds. I left it, with the money tied up in it, on the table here
while I went to Perrin to fetch a memorandum I'd forgotten. Now that
I've returned, I find the bag lying on my table empty and the money
apparently gone. That's what's wrong, and the question is, who has
been in my room since I left it?"
"As I told you, Elmore and I just saw Wheeler making his exit rather
as if he were pressed for time."
"And I myself just met him scurrying along, and wondered what the
haste was about; he's not, as a general rule, the fastest of the
pages. The boy has a bad record; there was that story about Burge
minor and his journey money, and there have been other tales. If he
was in my room----"
"Perhaps he was sent on an errand to you."
"I doubt it, from the way he was running when I met him. And, so far
from stopping when he saw me, if anything, he went faster than ever.
It looks very much as if----"
He stopped, leaving the sentence ominously unfinished.
"Master Wheeler may be a young rip, but surely he wouldn't do a thing
like that."
This was Rodney, who notoriously never spoke ill of anyone. Mr. Taylor
touched on his well-known propensity.
"That's all very well, Elmore; but you'd try to find an excuse for a
man who snatched the coat off your back. This is a very serious
matter; ten pounds are ten pounds. The best thing is for you to bring
Wheeler here, and we'll have it out with him at once."
Rodney started off to fetch the page. It was some little time before
he returned. When he did he was without his cricket-bag, and gripped
the obviously unwilling page tightly by the shoulder. That the lad's
mind was very far from being at ease Mr. Taylor's questions quickly
made plain.
"Wheeler, Mr. Rumsey and Mr. Elmore just saw you coming out of my
room. What were you doing here?"
Wheeler, looking everywhere but at his questioner, hesitated; then
stammered out a lame reply.
"I--I was looking for you, sir."
"For me? What did you want with me? Why did you not say you wanted me
when you met me just now?"
Wheeler could not explain; he was tongue-tied. Mr. Taylor went on:
"When I went I left this bag on the table full of money. As you were
the only person who entered the room during my absence, I want you to
tell me how the bag came to be empty when I returned?"
"The bag was empty when I came in here," blurted out Wheeler. "I
particularly noticed."
To that tale he stuck--that the bag was empty when he entered the
room. His was a lame story. It seemed clear that he had gone into
the room with intentions which were not all that they might have
been--possibly meaning to pilfer from the bag, which he knew was
there. The discovery that the bag was empty had come upon him with a
shock; he had fled. As was not altogether unnatural, his story was not
believed. The two masters accused him point-blank of having emptied
the bag himself. A formal charge of theft would have been made against
him had it not been for his tender years, also partly because of the
resultant scandal, perhaps still more because not a farthing of the
money was ever traced to his possession, or, indeed, to anyone else's.
What had become of it was never made clear. Wheeler, however, was
dismissed from his employment with a stain upon his character which he
would find it hard to erase.
Rodney Elmore had an excellent time upon the Broads, towards which the
tuck-shop takings, in a measure, contributed. The Austins, who were
well-to-do people, had a first-rate wherry; on it was a lively party.
There were two girls--Stella Austin, Tom Austin's sister, and a friend
of hers, Mary Carmichael. Elmore, who was nearly nineteen, had already
had more than one passage with persons of the opposite sex. He had a
curious facility in gaining the good graces of feminine creatures of
all kinds and all ages. When he went he left Stella Austin under the
impression that he cared for her very much indeed; while, although
conscious that Tom Austin, believing himself to be in love with Mary
Carmichael, regarded her as his own property, he was aware that the
young lady liked him--Rodney Elmore--in a sense of which his friend
had not the vaguest notion. Altogether his visit to the Austins was an
entire success; he had won for himself a niche in everyone's esteem
before they parted.
When he was twenty Rodney Elmore entered an uncle's office in St.
Paul's Churchyard. Soon after he was twenty-one his mother died. On
her deathbed she showed an anxiety for his future which, under other
circumstances, he would have found almost amusing.
"Rodney," she implored him, "my son, my dear, dear boy, promise me
that you will keep honest; that, under no pressure of circumstances,
you will stray one hair's breadth from the path of honesty."
This, in substance, though in varying forms, was the petition which
she made to him again and again, in tones which, as the days, and even
the hours, went by, grew fainter and fainter. He did his best to give
her the assurance she required, smilingly at first, more seriously
when he perceived how much she was in earnest.
"Mother, darling," he told her, "I promise that I'll keep as straight
as a man can keep. I'll never do anything for which you could be
ashamed of me. Have you ever been ashamed of me?"
"No, dear, never. You've always been the best, cleverest, truest, most
affectionate son a woman could have. Never once have you given me a
moment's anxiety. God keep you as you have always been--above all, God
keep you honest."
"Mother," he said in earnest tones, which had nearly sunk to a
whisper, "God helping me, and He will help me, I swear to you that I
will never do a dishonest thing, never! Nor a thing that is in the
region of dishonesty. Don't you believe me, darling?"
"Of course, dear, I believe you--I do! I do!"
It was with some such words on her lips that she died; yet, even as
she uttered them, he had a feeling that there was a look in her eyes
which suggested both fear and doubt. In the midst of his heart-broken
grief the fact that there should have been such a look struck him as
good.