A WILY YOUNG MAN.
In a small, but comfortably-furnished house at Feltham, lived Mrs.
Hoffman and her son, Felix. She was not a widow, but her husband had
left her some years before. At that time her son was seventeen, now he
was five-and-twenty, and a sore trial and trouble to her. Felix Hoffman
was one of many men who prefer idleness to work, and he took good care
not to find any suitable employment. It troubled his mother that he was
seldom short of money. How did he obtain it? Not by work of any kind, of
that she was certain. Once or twice she questioned him as to how he made
sufficient to supply his wants, which were by no means few or
inexpensive, but he always flew into a passion on such occasions, and
his attitude became so threatening that she forebore to make further
inquiries.
Felix Hoffman was not bad looking. He had a Jewish cast of features,
black curly hair, and a fierce moustache of the same colour. His eyes
were dark brown, shifty and uncertain, and when he conversed he seldom
looked his companion in the face.
He did not resemble his mother in the least; she was English, and
married Milas Hoffman when quite a girl. Had she been more experienced
in the ways of the world he would have had but little chance of winning
her. A few months after their marriage she found out her mistake. Milas
Hoffman called himself a travelling jeweller. He certainly went about
the country with a case packed with glittering ornaments, which he
disposed of on most advantageous terms to servant girls, young grooms,
and others of the same class in different countries. His profits were
large, and he made a very fair income out of the gullibility of his
customers. He became more daring in his transactions, and at last came
within the grasp of the law. Not wishing to face the charges of
swindling brought against him, he left England, and his wife had never
heard of him since. She did not mourn over his desertion. She had
sufficient money by her to carry on for a time, and she fixed her hopes
upon her son Felix. They were doomed to be rudely shattered when he
coolly told her there were plenty of ways of making money without
working for it. What those ways were he failed to tell her, but it
saddened her to see that he was right, and he drew supplies from sources
she felt sure she could not approve of.
Felix Hoffman met many men in London in very different positions in life
to himself. He was a frequenter of racecourses, one of the undesirables
whose presence gives the sport a bad name, and its enemies a handle
wherewith to pump obloquy upon all connected with it, the just and the
unjust. At first he was a bookmaker's tout, and rushed about the ring
watching the fluctuation of the odds, scenting out stable commissions
and repeating the same to his employer with lightning speed. It was
seldom the bookmaker was let in for a big bet "over the odds" when Felix
Hoffman was hovering about with hawk-like keenness. The said bookmaker,
whose sham diamonds were the envy of the uninitiated, became so
impressed with the fertile resources of Felix Hoffman that he actually
ventured to take him into partnership "in the book." This was a grave
mistake, for in a very short time the versatile Felix had transformed
the firm, and his name alone figured on the bag and tickets. The members
of Tattersall's smiled; many of them had seen these mysterious changes
before and knew what it meant. Felix Hoffman, in his turn, made a
mistake. He handed over the "bag" to two men he fancied he could trust,
and proceeded to back horses on his own account. He saw no reason why,
with his skill in scenting out commissions and spotting genuinely-backed
horses, he should not be able to lay the losers and back the winners.
Better men than Felix had endeavoured to accomplish this feat before,
and come lamentably to grief, and he followed them into the same
quandary. It puzzled Felix not a little to find out the cause of his
failure. He had not yet learned that to be successful on the turf a man
must be either a backer or a layer, but not both, and in the one
capacity a good share of luck must be his to succeed.
Warren Courtly was fond of racing, especially "chasing," and during the
off-season he was frequently seen at meetings round London. Even the
attractions of the hunting field could not, on many occasions, lure him
from the racecourse. Irene knew he frequented such places, but she had
no idea of the extent of his gambling transactions, or they would have
appalled her. She thought his statement that the Anselm Manor estates
required a good deal of looking after was an excuse for his visits to
London, but, as a matter of fact, he was correct in his assertion.
Everything he could mortgage he did, and even the Manor itself had
sundry charges upon it, which he found it difficult to meet. The
racecourse is a rare levelling ground, and men of very different types
fraternise together with a freedom never seen elsewhere. Warren Courtly
had noticed Felix Hoffman's energy in ferreting out information, and on
more than one occasion had taken the trouble to find out whether he was
right or wrong. In this way he gathered that his advice was generally
good. He approached him one day at Hurst Park, and asked his advice
about Milander in a hurdle race.
Felix Hoffman was not at all surprised at a stranger speaking to him
about such matters. He eyed Warren Courtly over, and came to the
conclusion it would pay him to tell him all he knew. As luck would have
it, he did know Milander was a very fair thing for the hurdle race.
"I'll make it worth your while if it wins," said Warren.
"What will you put me on?"
"I will lay you the odds to a fiver."
"Milander has a very good chance. Dyer rides him, and he told me, bar
accident, he would win. I think you can back him for a good stake."
"Meet me here after the race," said Warren, and walked out of the
paddock into the ring.
"He's a real swell," thought Felix. "He may come in useful."
Milander won comfortably, and started at the remunerative odds of five
to one. Warren Courtly won a good stake, and handed Felix "a pony," the
winnings on the five pounds he put on for him.
"I'd give Dyer something, sir, if I were you," said Felix. "He's not a
bad sort, and generally tells me when he has a chance."
"Give him this," said Warren, handing Felix a ten-pound note.
"Shall I see you again, sir?"
"I am often at these meetings. If you know anything, come and tell me,
and I will see you are a gainer thereby."
It was in this way Warren Courtly became acquainted with Felix Hoffman,
who later on helped him in another way, which did not redound to his
credit, and which eventually gave that wily young man a hold over the
master of Anselm Court.
Mrs. Hoffman was surprised one day when her son brought Warren Courtly
down to Feltham. She wondered how Felix became acquainted with him, and
still more why his friend condescended to associate with him. She knew
her son was not at all a desirable companion for a man of Warren
Courtly's stamp.
Felix introduced him as Mr. Warren. "A gentleman I have frequently met
on the racecourse, mother; he wishes to consult you on a private matter,
and I hope you will agree to his request."
Mrs. Hoffman was surprised, but expressed her readiness to hear what he
had to tell her.
"It is rather a delicate matter," commenced Warren, when Felix left the
room; "the fact of the matter is, I am anxious to find a comfortable
home for my wife until my father can be informed of our marriage. He is
very much set against it because the lady is hardly in the same set as
ourselves. I have married for love, but that is no reason why I should
forfeit the many advantages I now have, and which I should certainly
lose if my father found out I was married. My wife is young and pretty,
and would, I am sure, cause very little trouble in a house. I asked your
son if he knew of any place where I could leave her, in or near London,
and he said he had no doubt his mother would be pleased to have her, and
he was quite certain would make her comfortable. If you have no
objection, Mrs. Hoffman, I should like my wife to have rooms here, and I
am sure I could rely upon you to treat her kindly, and be a companion to
her."
Mrs. Hoffman was not at all displeased at this proposal, but she foresaw
one danger, and that was Felix. She knew him to be utterly unscrupulous,
and feared his influence over a young married woman living apart from
her husband, for that was what it meant. However, she would take very
good care he had no opportunities of making himself objectionable to
her.
Warren Courtly noticed the hesitation, and said, "I do not think there
will be any trouble over the terms. I know very little about these
matters, but if you will make a suggestion I will consider it."
Mrs. Hoffman had no intention of asking too little. Her experience of
life had taught her much, and she had her doubts as to the truth of the
story she had heard. Still, that was none of her business, and she meant
to do her duty by the girl when she came to her house.
"Would three guineas a week be too much, sir? There may be a few extras,
which I suppose you would not mind paying for?"
"That is reasonable," said Warren, who had expected a higher figure,
"and I hope you will do all in your power to make Mrs. Warren
comfortable."
"I can safely promise you that, and that I shall be very pleased to have
someone in the house, for my son is generally away from home. When may
we expect you, sir?"
Warren named the date, and she replied--
"That is quite close to Christmas. Shall you stay here during that week,
if so I will prepare for you?"
"I am sorry to say I shall be away; my father will expect me to be at
home with the rest of the family," said Warren.
In due course, Warren arrived at Mrs. Hoffman's house at Feltham with
Janet Todd, and she had been there two years living under the name of
Mrs. Warren.
Seven or eight months after he had found Janet a home with Mrs. Hoffman,
Warren married Irene Carstone, and considered he had done his duty by
Janet, and that this discreditable action in his life was closed.
It troubled him when he heard Ulick Maynard was looked upon as the
wrongdoer, but he had not the manliness or the courage to confess, and
thus place the blame upon his own shoulders.
It was a strange coincidence, he thought, that the Squire should have
made this accusation against Ulick on the same night he had planned to
take Janet away. He had not much difficulty in persuading her to go, and
he knew she was fully convinced he would marry her. This did not trouble
him much, his anxiety was to get her away from Hazelwell, because he had
at that time made up his mind to marry Irene, if she would have him.
Fate played into his hands, and worked everything smoothly for him. When
he heard from Janet that Ulick had been at her father's, and told her
the Squire had accused him of being the cause of her misfortune, Warren
was astounded. He saw at once how Janet's flight would confirm the
Squire's charge, and that everyone would believe she had left her home
with Ulick.
"What did he say to you?" asked Warren.
Janet hung her head, and her cheeks became crimson.
"Tell me what he said," Warren asked, sharply.
"He was very angry, and said I deserved to be thrashed for bringing
disgrace upon my father; as for myself, it was no more than I deserved.
He asked me who had got me into trouble."
"You did not tell him?" said Warren, anxiously.
"How can you ask such a question? Of course I did not tell him."
"That's a good girl, Janet; you must always keep our secret."
"That depends upon how you treat me," she replied, and at this answer
Warren Courtly commenced to see it might not be all plain sailing with
her.
"Did Mr. Maynard tell you he was suspected of being the cause of your
trouble?"
"Yes, and I offered to write to his father and tell him it was untrue,
but he was very angry and forbade me doing so, saying his father ought
to have known him better, and that he must find out the truth for
himself," said Janet.
Warren was relieved at this. He knew Ulick Maynard had a proud, stubborn
disposition, and that his father's suspicions would sting him to the
quick. It was not at all likely he would ask Janet to prove his
innocence, and when she was at Feltham he would have but little chance
of finding her, even if he changed his mind.
They arrived in London, and went from Waterloo to Feltham.
"Remember, you are Mrs. Warren," he said, "and do not let anyone find
out where you come from. Mrs. Hoffman you will like, but her son is a
scamp, and you will do well to avoid him."
Mrs. Hoffman soon grew very fond of Janet, and the girl reciprocated the
motherly feelings thus shown. She was not unhappy, but she would have
been more contented had Warren allowed her to write to her father and
tell him all was well with her. This, however, he strictly forbade; he
did not wish her to have any communication with Hazelwell.
The first serious quarrel took place when Warren told her he was to
marry Irene Carstone.
Janet wept, and then flew into a rage, vowing she would write to her
father, the Squire, and Irene, and confess all. He dare not leave her
for a week, and during that time he used all his persuasive powers to
calm her, and at times resorted to threats, which she only laughed at.
Eventually he took Mrs. Hoffman into his confidence, and discovered that
she had suspected the truth all along.
"I wish you would use your influence with her," he said; "I am quite
willing to make her a good allowance, and also settle a sum of money
upon her, provided she holds her tongue."
Mrs. Hoffman promised she would do all that lay in her power to bring
Janet to a proper frame of mind. She really liked her, and thought she
was far happier as she was than if she had married Warren.
She succeeded in her endeavour, but Janet was mercenary when it came to
terms with Mr. Courtly. She was determined to have adequate remuneration
for all she had lost, and the deception he had practised on her. He
grumbled at her demands, but she was firm, and as there was no other way
out of the difficulty, except exposure, he gave in.
Janet knew her power over him, and his marriage with Irene materially
increased it.
"I wonder what she would do if she knew all?" thought Janet.