AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
SIR JOSEPH RAYNER, as a solicitor, was at the very head of his
profession, and was supposed to be trusted with more family secrets
than any other man in England. The confidence in him was extraordinary,
but no one could be found to urge that it was not merited, and it was
notorious that he had averted more scandals and saved more reputations
than any other half dozen men in his profession. Erring husbands, and
wives deeply wronged, sought his advice, and to the husbands he was a
man of the world, and to the wives a sympathetic counsellor, always
against the extreme remedy of the divorce courts. To prodigal sons he
was the dispenser of paternal allowances, and to the men caught in the
toils of the blackmailer he was like a delivering providence. As a
family solicitor he was unsurpassed, discreet as a cabinet minister at
question time, and as secret as the grave. And in spite of his burden
of secrets, usually as he walked abroad among men, he wore a jaunty
air, as befitted a man with not a trouble of his own in the wide world.
But one winter morning as he sat in his private office his brow was
black with care, and his demeanour was as far removed as possible from
the gay one which his confreres knew. Before him was a small ledger
with a lock upon it, and a number of documents, and as he bent over
them, from time to time he wrote figures upon a sheet of foolscap.
Presently he began to add up the figures, and that done sat staring at
the total.
“Ninety-seven thousand,” he whispered to himself. “God! If anything
were to come out!”
He sat looking at the figures, tapping softly with his pencil,
something like despair shining in his eyes.
“Suppose Adrian’s fine scheme goes awry? Or suppose Joy refuses to
sign?”
He rose from his chair and began to walk to and fro, in the manner of a
man whom nervousness has made restless. Once he stopped and glanced at
the ledger, then nodded his head.
“The others will be all right, if----”
The whirr of the telephone bell on his desk interrupted his thoughts.
Frowningly he picked up the receiver, and gave the stereotyped “Hallo!”
“Is that really you, Adrian? I didn’t know you had arrived.... Last
night you say.... I didn’t get your telegram. I was dining with the
Chancellor, and went on to the theatre afterwards.... Yes, you are in
time, though I have been praying for your arrival for days. Things are
very tight, and that banker is getting nervous.... Yes, the sooner the
better. In half an hour? That will do very nicely. I shall expect you
both without fail. How goes your matrimonial scheme?... Um! Hangs fire
a little does it, but you’re certain of the end. Well the earlier it is
arranged, the better I shall be pleased. My nerves are not what they
were. But we can talk the whole business over later. Thank heaven, I’m
her guardian, and there’s only my consent to be obtained. What sort of
a savage has she become in these three years?”
As he listened to the reply to his last question a cynical smile came
on his face. “Sounds as if you had fallen in love!... You have, hey?
Well, well (he laughed a little), love is as good a qualification for
matrimony as anything I know, except a thundering big bank account....
Yes, yes, I know.... I shall be waiting. That’s all, I think.”
Putting down the receiver, he began to gather up the scattered papers
on his desk, and after tying them together with tape, he placed them
in a large envelope and sealed them with his private seal. Then he
locked the books and placed both the book and the envelope in the
safe. Care appeared to have fallen from him like a garment. He even
hummed a little catch from the halls as he took from the safe a new
set of papers. Any one looking at him would not have known him for the
care-ridden man of ten minutes before. Once more he was the Sir Joseph
Rayner, whom the city knew, smiling, cheerful, and exceeding prosperous.
“That will do, I think,” he said as he arranged the papers on the desk.
“Fortunately the girl has no business experience.”
Then he went to a small cabinet in the room, and helped himself to a
glass of port of a favourite vintage, and to while away the time smoked
a couple of cigarettes, gazing into the fire with a musing look upon
his face. At the sound of voices in the office of the head clerk, he
threw away his cigarette and turned to the door. A knock sounded, and
the door opened.
“Miss Gargrave and Mr. Adrian, Sir Joseph.”
A moment later he was on his feet welcoming the travellers.
“This is a pleasure, Joy. I did not know that you had arrived until
half an hour ago, not having had the telegram which Adrian sent me.
You look wonderfully well, and Adrian looks all the better for his
vacation. Take this chair, Joy, and throw off your furs! The cigarettes
are on the mantelpiece, Adrian, if Joy does not mind.”
He looked at her with a smile and Joy shook her head.
“Not in the least, Uncle Joseph! Adrian knows that!”
“Then we can indulge. But how are you? You have not yet told me, though
of course there is no need. You have the authentic hue of health in
your cheeks, and goodness! what a woman you have become! I could
almost find it in my heart to envy Adrian the long journey you have
made together!” He laughed a little as he spoke, and glanced from Joy
to his son. A slight frown showed itself on the young man’s face, and
interpreting it rightly, Sir Joseph deftly took another line.
“You have not found the journey too trying, I hope, my dear Joy? But I
forget. Of course you are inured to difficulties and hardships at North
Star, and a journey of four or five thousand miles does not daunt you
as it would a city man like myself.”
Joy laughed a little. “There was not much hardship once we struck the
railway. A first-class Pullman and a state-room on a Cunarder are in
themselves alleviations of the tedium of a winter journey!”
Sir Joseph laughed with her. “Possibly! But it is not every one who
would find them so. I think I could not undertake such a journey now.
And I hope there will be no need for you to do so again. Now we have
you this side of the herring pond, I hope we may keep you here for a
very long time. Your days of exile are over, and North Star Lodge--”
“Please, uncle,” Joy intervened quickly. “Please do not say anything
against North Star. I think of it as my home. I was born there, you
know, and I have not found these three years to be like years of
exile--they have been full of happy days.”
“Possibly,” laughed the lawyer, “but there are many sorts of happiness,
and after the pleasures of the wilderness you will be the better fitted
to appreciate the delights of civilization, since all things, as you
know, gain by contrast.... But where is Miss La Farge? I thought--”
“She is at the hotel. She was a little tired, but I think that was an
excuse. She knew that I was coming here to do business--”
“Of course! Of course! Very considerate of her I am sure; but there
was no need for her to be so punctilious. But business is really of a
very simple nature, merely the signing of a few documents which can be
completed in under half an hour.” He waved a hand towards the desk.
“I have anticipated your arrival, and everything is in order for your
signature.”
Joy glanced at the desk, and caught sight of the papers. “Perhaps you
will explain what the situation is,” she said. “I am not sure that I
understand.”
“Certainly,” answered Sir Joseph with a suave smile. “It is not
very complicated. Your father, as you know, left a very large
fortune--something over a million pounds--in trust for you, and by his
will made me your guardian and sole trustee. One of the conditions of
the will was that for three years you were to live at North Star Lodge,
and at the end of that time you were to be free to enter upon your
inheritance. You have fulfilled the condition, and you now inherit.
Indeed you ought to have done so some months ago, and as my trusteeship
ended with the fulfilling of the conditions, there are certain actions
of mine that ought to be regularized, and for which I shall require
your signature.”
“I do not quite follow,” said the girl.
“It is very simple. You were not here to administer the estate, and
though I had no authority from you, I was compelled to do so. Of course
as your uncle and guardian there was really nothing else for me to do.”
“Of course! Of course!” answered Joy hurriedly. “And you want my
signature to--to put things right.”
“Just that!” answered Sir Joseph smilingly.
“Then the sooner you have it the better,” laughed Joy. “Shall I sign
them at once?”
“If you like,” answered the lawyer in casual tones, though there was a
little flash of eagerness in his eyes.
“It will take but a few moments.”
He moved towards the desk, and as Joy rose from her seat near the fire
placed a chair in position for her. The girl seated herself, glanced
carelessly at the first document he placed before her, and then asked,
“Where do I sign?”
“Here!” answered the lawyer, indicating the place. Joy signed quickly.
There were other papers that she did not even look at, but promptly
signed each one in turn, as it was presented to her. When she had
finished she laid down the pen with a little laugh.
“I feel quite a woman of business.”
“But you are not yet out of the wood,” laughed Sir Joseph. “There
is another important matter to be settled, and that is the future
management of the estate. It is now your own to do with as you like.
You may wish to carry through all transactions relating to it yourself,
in which case--”
“Oh no! no!” cried Joy protestingly. “I should be worried to death. You
must manage it for me in the future as you have done in the past. I
could not possibly undertake such a task.”
The lawyer smiled. “I was hoping that you would think of that course,
though, for obvious reasons I did not care to suggest it. It will be
much simpler for you merely to have monies paid into your account
instead of occupying perhaps several hours per week in worrying over
investments.” He laughed a little. “You would require an office and at
least a couple of clerks, Joy.”
“Oh dear!” laughed Joy, “that must never be.”
“Then I will take the burden off your hands, and you will have to give
me power of attorney.”
“What is that?” inquired Joy, adding merrily, “I am discovering an
abysmal ignorance in myself.” Sir Joseph explained, and the girl
nodded. “Of course. There is no difficulty about that. It only gives
you the right to continue to exercise the powers you have had up to
now, and it will save me a great deal of worry. I suppose there will be
another document to sign?”
“Yes,” answered the lawyer smilingly. “One more document to sign.
Fortunately I anticipated what your wishes would be; and I had it
prepared.” He looked at his son. “We must have a witness, Adrian. Just
ring for Benson, will you?”
The young lawyer touched a bell, and a moment later a clerk entered.
“Yes, Sir Joseph.”
“In a moment, Benson. I want you to witness Miss Gargrave’s signature.”
He went to the safe, took from it yet another document which he gave to
the girl.
“Read it, Joy.”
“If I must,” answered Joy, and ran through it carelessly.
Then she signed it, and the clerk having witnessed it and been
dismissed, Sir Joseph gathered all the papers together, and locked
them up. “Business is over for the day,” he said. “I’m going to take a
holiday. You will lunch with me at the Ritz, Joy, you and Adrian. I
shall take no denial.”
“But there is Babette--” began Joy.
“Oh, we will telephone to her, and pick her up on the way. We shall
then be quite a complete little party, and tonight we will dine, and
go on to a theatre afterwards. You will not have seen much acting, of
late--”
“None at all,” laughed Joy, “for three whole years.”
“Then we must certainly go,” answered her uncle. “Let me see--ah, yes!
There is the ‘Grizzly Cub,’ a Klondyke play, pure American and very
strenuous and exciting. I have seen it once, but I should like to see
it again, with some one who knows the country of the play. To me it
seems very real, and if it has illusions for you who know the life, I
shall know that it is really good. We will go there. Adrian, just tell
Benson to ring up the Mitre and engage a box for me, and have my car
brought round from the garage.”
It was a merry party that lunched at the Ritz. There was not a hint of
the care that had betrayed itself in the lawyer’s face in the solitude
of his private room. He was the gay, debonair man of the world that
all his acquaintances knew, and he exerted himself to make the lunch
an agreeable one. But from time to time, he allowed his eyes to stray
towards a table where a couple of young men were lunching with a lady.
They seemed very interested in his own party, and presently he saw
the lady rise from her seat and walk towards his table. At the same
moment Joy Gargrave looked up, and as she caught the young lady’s eyes,
started impulsively from her seat.
“You, Penelope!” she cried.
“You, Joy!” mimicked the other. “I thought you were dwelling in the
forest primeval?”
“I arrived in London last night. I expect to stay a little time in
England. The years of what my uncle calls my exile are over.” She
glanced at the lawyer. “Do you know my uncle? No! Then I must introduce
you. Uncle, this is Miss Penelope Winter, an old--”
“You are wrong, Joy,” laughed the lady. “This is no longer Miss
Penelope Winter. This is Mrs. Will Grasmore of Grasmore Grange,
Westmorland.”
“You are married?” cried Joy.
Mrs. Will Grasmore waved a hand towards the table she had just left.
“There sits the happy man, whose complete happiness began three months
ago.”
“Which--” began Joy, and then stopped suddenly, as a curious look came
on her face. “Of course! I see! The other one is Geoffrey Bracknell,
isn’t it?”
“Yes,” laughed her friend, “and he is dying to renew the acquaintance
he began in Westmorland four years ago! May I bring him and Will over?
I see that, like ourselves, you are almost at the end of lunch. We
might take coffee together.”
For the fraction of a minute Joy hesitated. Sir Joseph, who was
watching her, noticed that hesitation, though he was the only one who
did. Then Joy spoke.
“Well, if you like, Penelope, and if my uncle doesn’t mind. I am his
guest, and--”
“Oh, Sir Joseph will not mind, I am sure,” answered Mrs. Winter,
flashing a smile at the lawyer and assuming his consent, hurried back
to her own table.
“Did you say that the young man with Mr. Winter was named Bracknell?”
asked Adrian Rayner suddenly.
There was just a splash of colour in Joy’s cheeks as she replied
shortly, “Yes!”
“I wonder if he is any relation of that Mounted policeman who came to
North Star, when--”
“He is his cousin,” answered Joy quickly. “His father is Sir James
Bracknell of Harrow Fell. Geoffrey is the second son.”
“Ah! I remember them,” broke in Sir Joseph. “There was another son who
disgraced himself and his family. He disappeared. I wonder what has
become of him. The succession to that estate will offer a pretty tangle
for somebody to unravel some day, Adrian.”
His son nodded, but uttered no comment. His eyes were fixed on Joy,
as if he found something particularly interesting in her demeanour
at the moment. At his father’s words the splash of colour had ebbed
swiftly from her cheeks leaving them rather pale, but Joy’s manner
was perfectly self-possessed, and there was little to indicate that
she was passing through a moment of stress. Her cousin still watched
her when the others joined them, and at the moment of meeting flashed
a quick searching glance at Geoffrey Bracknell. The young man’s face
was eager. There was a light in his eyes that told that Mrs. Winter’s
statement about his wish to renew acquaintance with Joy had not been
over-coloured, and as he marked it, Adrian Rayner smiled enigmatically
to himself.
Sir Joseph also noticed it, and it troubled him a little. He was
thoughtful during the remainder of the lunch, and even more thoughtful
when, on the evening of that same day, they again encountered young
Bracknell in the foyer of the theatre. He was obviously waiting for
them, and the lawyer was far from pleased to learn that he had taken
the next box to his own. He was still less pleased when the young man
made an excuse for visiting them between the acts, and it required all
his skill to avoid an acceptance of the invitation to supper which he
extended to Sir Joseph’s party.
“My dear Bracknell, you are too late. Our supper is already ordered. On
another occasion, perhaps, but tonight it is quite impossible.”
“You did not tell me you had an admirer,” he said to Joy, rallying her
a little time later.
“An admirer!” Joy laughed. “Who--”
“Young Bracknell! He is most obviously in love with you.”
“Oh no! no!” whispered Joy quickly, all the laughter dying suddenly
from her face. “You are mistaken. It ... it would be too ... too....”
The sentence went unfinished, and Sir Joseph, noticing her face,
did not press for the conclusion. He was silent for a little time,
wondering what lay behind her sudden change of manner. Then he spoke
again.
“Young Bracknell is not your only admirer,” he said smilingly. “You
have another.”
“Indeed,” said Joy, very obviously embarrassed.
“Yes! Adrian is very deeply in love. He confided the fact to me this
morning.... I hope, my dear, that you will be able to listen to him,
that you will be able to give a favourable--”
“Oh!” interrupted Joy nervously, “you must not ask me, uncle. I shall
never marry. Never!”
“Never, my dear Joy! That, it is often remarked, is a very long time!”
He smiled indulgently as he spoke, and then added, “I hope we may yet
induce you to reconsider your very youthful decision.”
Joy did not answer. Her face was very pale, and she sat staring at the
stage with tragic eyes, not watching the actors, but visioning a body
lying in the snow in the sombre woods at North Star.