Gaunt’s first impulse was to hasten after his wife and accept the
proposal she had made. There could be no doubt that she had offered him
all that he was struggling to obtain—her love; and if he had agreed to
go away on the yacht, they might live the life of which he had dreamed.
To do him justice the temptation, though strong, was but momentary, for
he quickly remembered that to leave England at the present moment would
be to break the vow that he had made.
“No. I will win her and yet be honest to myself,” he said grimly.
The fever of fighting had entered into his blood, and he was longing
to come to close quarters with the enemy. In fact he was looking
forward to the meeting at which he was to be the chief speaker, and was
determined that he would not mince matters, but would state the truth,
brutally and forcibly.
Lady Mildred’s complaint was a just one, for blows would be dealt
unscrupulously and there was plenty of ammunition for the enemy in his
past. It was quite clear to Gaunt that the Congo officials in Brussels
would show no mercy, and would use any weapon that came to hand;
perhaps it was this knowledge that made him eager for the fray.
The love of a fight was born in the man, and his eyes sparkled as he
thought of the coming contest. For the moment the vow was forgotten
and ceased to be the motive that guided him.
Gaunt and Edward Drake dined alone, and the latter spoke but little
during the meal.
“Did Lady Mildred tell you of an unfortunate occurrence this
afternoon?” he asked at last.
“She mentioned that she had overheard some one make remarks about
myself that were the reverse of complimentary. Tell me the details,”
Gaunt said with a smile, and he listened quietly to Drake’s accurate
description of what had happened.
“There is a certain amount of truth in what the man said, but I can
imagine that my wife was annoyed. I fear that she will have to get used
to listening to much worse things than that,” Gaunt answered drily.
“It is a pity. Don’t you think she might go abroad for a while with
Lady Ethel?” Drake suggested nervously.
“She wouldn’t go and I think that she would prefer to be in England.”
“By the bye, she asked me the reason of the recent change in you, and——”
“What did you say?” Gaunt interrupted him quickly.
“Nothing. And when she wanted to know if you were going to the Congo, I
referred her to you. Don’t you think it would be as well to give Lady
Mildred your entire confidence? I can see that things are not quite
right between you.”
“Listen to me, Drake. If we are to remain friends, that is a subject
that must never be mentioned between us. I may not be able to manage my
own conscience, but, by Heaven, I’ll manage my own domestic affairs,”
Gaunt cried warmly.
“Forgive me. It was not from any desire to meddle that I spoke.
Gaunt, I like you and I like Lady Mildred. When two people are proud,
misunderstandings arise easily, and I thought that I might be able to
help you both,” Drake said gently.
“That’s all right. I shouldn’t have spoken quite so roughly, but I
think you understand. We’ve just time for a smoke before we start. Come
into the library,” Gaunt said and placed his hand on Drake’s shoulder
with an affectionate touch.
Their characters were utterly different, and yet their mutual liking
was increasing daily as their knowledge of one another grew.
“I’ve been thinking over that ‘cruiser’ idea,” Gaunt began when they
had lighted their cigars, “and I’m not at all sure that the scheme is
not practicable as a last resource. I intend to make inquiries at once,
but the difficulty is to do so without attracting attention. Secrecy is
essential to success.”
“It seems to me that there is a greater chance of making the British
government move now that you have started to work. The fact that you
are fighting for the natives gives that touch of romance which is
necessary to rouse the public’s interest.”
“There is not much romance about John Gaunt. Come along or we shall be
late.”
The meeting had been well advertised, and Drake was right in his
surmise that Gaunt’s personality would attract when the wrongs of the
natives failed to do so, for the large hall was packed from floor to
ceiling. The chairman wasted but little time in his opening remarks
and quickly called upon Gaunt to speak.
When he rose to his feet and faced them, there was the same look of
defiance on his face that had been there at the previous meeting. In
simple language he began to tell them of his experiences on the Congo
and there was no straining after effect, but soon he began to see that
their attention was engrossed by his words, and he spoke with more
feeling.
There are many men in the world who are born orators and yet do not
know it, and such a man was Gaunt. Until a few days ago he had never
addressed a public meeting in his life, save those of his companies, so
he had had no opportunity of discovering the powers that lay dormant in
him. There is no more exhilarating feeling than that of the speaker who
holds a vast multitude in the hollow of his hand, and who can sway them
as he pleases, to laughter, or to tears.
And a great hush fell upon the building as with graphic touch he
painted the terrible torturings of a nation. And once more Gaunt
realized the baseness of the past that he had played in the Congo, so
that when he said the last few solemn words he knew himself to be what
he really was.
There was no applause, only a painful hush when he resumed his seat;
but still his lips moved, and only Drake who was beside him could catch
the muttered words.
“By Heaven, I’ll undo the past.”
Then he chanced to look among the crowd and saw an elderly gentleman
of aristocratic appearance seated a few rows from the front, whose
overcoat was slightly open, and across his white shirt was the broad
ribbon of an order.
“So the Baron has arrived,” Gaunt remarked under his breath, and a
tense look came into his eyes.
As soon as the meeting was over, they returned to Park Lane and
Drake retired to his room, for he was very tired. Gaunt put on a
smoking-jacket and settled down comfortably before the fire, but there
was an air of expectation on his face and it was not very long before a
footman entered and approached his master.
“Baron de Croiseuil wishes to see you, sir,” he announced.
“Show him in here,” Gaunt replied and then rose to his feet and stood
facing the door to await his visitor.
In a short time the footman returned and was immediately followed by
the gentleman whom Gaunt had noticed at the meeting.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, Baron,” Gaunt remarked quietly.
“Not quite unexpected, I think. May I sit down, for I think that our
interview is likely to be a long one?”
The Baron spoke English with only a faint trace of an accent, but his
manner and appearance were distinctly foreign. Without waiting for
Gaunt to answer, he moved an armchair into position into which he sank
gracefully.
“May I smoke?” he said as he produced a gold cigarette case. “_Eh bien,
mon ami_, I listened to your speech with much interest, and pray allow
me to congratulate you upon your eloquence, but the subject matter was
deplorable,” the Baron said quietly.
“I do not think that your visit is likely to do any good. Of course I
know why you have come to England,” Gaunt answered coldly.
“Yes, it is easy to guess. The cabled reports of your speech the other
night seemed incredible and so I thought it better to run over to find
out the truth myself. _Helas!_ It is even worse than we had imagined.
May I ask if you have taken leave of your senses?” the Baron asked
suavely.
“Have I the appearance of a madman?” Gaunt answered with a harsh laugh.
“Baron, you and I know one another pretty well, and it is better that
we should be quite frank. I suppose that I am the only man in England
that really understands the little game that you people are playing
in the Congo. In my public utterances I have definitely stated that
I intend to concentrate all my energies upon defeating you. Do you
understand?”
“Ah, but that was _blague_, just something to say for a little
_réclame_ for yourself. As you say, we know one another, and I am
quite sure that you are not the man to go against your own interests,
especially those of a pecuniary nature,” the Baron said smoothly.
“If you think that, then I am afraid that you do not know me. I am
perfectly serious, and I shall not rest until your régime in the Congo
comes to an end.”
“Ah,” the Baron ejaculated, and lapsed into silence.
His eyes were fixed on Gaunt’s face and he studied him keenly. For some
time neither of them spoke, and at last the Baron threw away his half
consumed cigarette with an impatient movement.
“It is a thousand pities, for I like you, Gaunt. I knew you as a young
man and was one of the first to recognize your ability. It is a
thousand pities,” he repeated reflectively.
Still Gaunt did not speak, and now their eyes met, the Baron’s cold and
menacing.
“You are young and very rash,” he continued quietly, “but with your
inside knowledge you ought to recognize our power. Already you have
done us serious injury, but I am willing to forgive that if you will
promise to remain silent in the future. In a few years our task will be
accomplished, and——”
“In a few years—when you have drained the Congo dry—when you have
killed off the people in thousands, and when the whole country is
desolate. Baron, I understand your policy, for, as you say, I have
inside knowledge. I repeat that the infamies shall cease,” Gaunt said
with grim determination.
“May I ask if this is blackmail?”
Gaunt jumped to his feet and stood over the Baron with upraised fist.
“Ah! I forgot that you were a rich man. But if that is not your motive,
may I ask why you have turned upon those who were once your friends?”
the Baron asked calmly, and he did not appear to notice Gaunt’s
attitude.
“I think you had better go,” Gaunt said in a low voice that was tense
with suppressed anger.
“Not until we come to an understanding, _mon ami_; I am going to stay
here until I convince you that you must be silent—for your own safety.”
Now the suavity had left the Baron’s voice and he spoke sharply as he
took a collection of documents from his pocket.
“This is your _dossier_, which contains a record of all your actions
while you were on the Congo. We often find such things useful in
dealing with people who take up the same attitude as yourself. Permit
me to remind you of a few incidents. You may find the memory painful,
but you bring it on yourself. I wonder if you remember the case of the
man Marillier. He was shot—wasn’t he, and by——? Ah! You have turned a
little pale. We have a long memory—we who govern the Congo. Murder is a
crime that may be punished after many years. Let me remind you of the
whole history. You will forgive me if I speak at some length.”
The Baron had risen, and the two men faced one another.
“Or shall I remain silent? It only requires your promise,” the Baron
continued very quietly and there was a smile on his face.
“I defy you!” Gaunt cried hoarsely.
And the Baron no longer smiled.