THE RIFLED SAFE
Later on, in the small hours, the young couple had a further
_tête-à-tête_. The members of the family had done their duty by their
several guests, and were at leisure to follow their own inclinations
for a while.
A celebrated violinist played the opening notes of a wailing melody—the
best of its kind was always a feature of the entertainments at Deanery
Street—and at the sound, Richard exchanged a meaning glance with
his sweetheart. Quietly they stole away to a secluded corner where
they could whisper away to their hearts’ content, and were safe from
interruption.
“Do you find it so difficult to screw up your courage to the sticking
point, you silly old Dick?” asked the girl presently in a low voice,
pursuing a conversation that had been proceeding for some little time.
The young man smiled; the smile was a little rueful and apologetic. “To
tell the truth, my darling, I do. When I think of it in cold blood, it
seems such a daring thing to do.”
“‘Faint heart’—you know the rest,” said the girl, in a bantering voice.
“Well, Dick, if you can’t manage it, I shall have to throw my maidenly
modesty to the winds, and undertake it myself. I am not afraid of my
uncle, if you are.”
“But from my point of view, dear, you must admit it wants a lot of
pluck. A poor devil of a fellow with a couple of hundred a year of his
own, asking a millionaire to consent to a marriage with a niece whom he
is going to make his heiress. Wouldn’t ninety-nine men out of a hundred
kick me out of the house in double quick time?”
The smile on Rosabelle’s charming face grew sunnier than ever. “But
first of all, we will say, and it is the truth, that he is the
hundredth, not one of the ninety-nine. And then, it isn’t as if he
didn’t know. I don’t think we have kept our little secret very much to
ourselves, have we, Dick?”
“I am not so sure that he does know,” answered the still doubting
lover. “He is always so frightfully absorbed in his business, I think
it uses up all his faculties. We know we are in love with each other,
but I doubt if the fact is so patent to everybody as you think, my
darling.”
“Rubbish!” cried the girl pertly. “Don’t you make any mistake about
Uncle Rupert being so wrapt up in business that he doesn’t observe
anything outside. Why, those keen eyes of his never let the most
trivial thing escape them. And I have often seen them resting on us
with a very intelligent expression. Take my word for it, Dick, he knows
what is going on, and he approves. You know how swiftly he puts his
foot down when he has a mind to. If he disapproved, he would soon give
me a very strong hint, or if he did not care to speak to me himself, I
should soon have a serious warning from auntie.”
Young Croxton was greatly encouraged by these words. He had a firm
belief in his sweetheart’s judgment and powers of penetration.
“That settles it then,” he said, speaking in a much more confident
tone. “I will tackle him to-morrow. I want to get it settled before we
go away to Mürren. Oh, my darling, if it is all right, as you think,
shan’t we have a lovely holiday?”
She gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. “And, as for all that
nonsense about having no money, why, I have no money either to speak
of. You have two hundred a year of your own, I have a hundred. Well,
Dick, if we were very wilful, I daresay we might be brave enough to
start on that, even if the worst were to happen. But there, don’t let
us think of that; I tell you it is going to be all right.”
He returned the affectionate squeeze she had given him with interest.
“By Jove, you do put courage into a fellow, little girl.”
“Not so little, if you please, Dick. I am rather above the average
height, you know. And if he is going to make me his heiress, as you
think, he doesn’t intend to leave you in the cold. He has treated you
like a son from the day you first came into the house. Everybody knows
how he worshipped your mother, and kept single all those years because
of her. I do not say he is not fond of auntie in a steady, quiet way.
But his other love was the sort that comes once in a lifetime, and
never again.” She bent her head very close and whispered shyly in his
ear. “He loved your mother, Dick, in the way that you and I love each
other, and of course he loves her son for her sake.”
And after such a declaration, it is small wonder that these devoted
young lovers, knowing they were safe from observation, testified their
affection for each other in a long caress.
Later on, when the last car had rolled away, and the somewhat weary
host and hostess were alone, a brief conversation took place between
them on the subject of the young couple. It was begun by Mrs. Morrice.
“You still approve of it, Rupert?” It was evident from these words
that the matter had been discussed between them before. “Remember that
Rosabelle is a very pretty girl, as well as a charming one, and will
have plenty of lovers in time.”
By these remarks it might be inferred that if Mrs. Morrice did not
offer actual opposition, she was quite ready to take a neutral attitude
in the matter.
Her husband did not beat about the bush in the least, he was always a
man who spoke out his mind unhesitatingly.
“Yes, I have thought it well out. If he is the man of Rosabelle’s
fancy, and everything points that way, I am quite willing he should
marry her. The moment he asks for my consent he shall have it.”
Mrs. Morrice heaved a gentle little sigh. “I know how fond you are of
Richard, that you could hardly be fonder of him if he were your own
son. Well, I own I am just a little sorry that her choice did not fall
upon Archie. It is not to be wondered at, for he is to me what Richard
Croxton is to you.”
Mr. Morrice frowned ever so slightly at the suggestion, but he turned
away his face quickly so that his wife should not see it. He had wasted
his heart upon Richard’s mother, and he could never give another woman
what he had given to her. But he was fond of his wife, he appreciated
her charm, her good qualities, the help she gave him in the social side
of his life, and he would not have pained her for the world.
“If Rosabelle had set her heart upon Archie,” he said gravely, “I
cannot say for certain what my attitude would have been. I should have
hated to make her miserable, and yet—and yet I could not have approved.
I am glad that things are as they are. Archie has his good qualities,
no doubt; he is pleasant and amiable; I daresay he would make a good
husband. But, forgive me if I speak a little too plainly, he is an
incurable idler, and much too fond of pleasure—I could not bear to see
her married to a man of that stamp.”
There was a little quiver in the wife’s voice as she replied: “Are you
not just a little too hard upon poor Archie, Rupert? Remember, he has
not had the advantages of Richard’s training. If he had had you for a
tutor, how different he would have been. My brother-in-law is not an
ideal guardian of youth. An idler himself by the accident of birth,
and I fear by inclination, he does not see the necessity for work in
others.”
The great financier, whose life was one long strenuous working day,
from choice not necessity, shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, his uncle will leave him his money, that seems understood, and
therefore Archie has no need to work for a subsistence. But I should
think better of him if he took up some occupation, if only as a hobby.
Nothing saps a man’s character like the idle loafing life he is leading
now.”
There was a note of bitterness in Mrs. Morrice’s voice as she replied
to those uncompromising remarks.
“It is not at all certain that some day Archie will not have to work
for a living.”
Morrice looked at his wife in some surprise. “But Sir George is
credited with being a well-off man. You have told me the same yourself.”
“He is well off perhaps now. But whether he dies rich or not will
depend upon what the gaming table and the race-course have left him.”
Mr. Morrice pursed his lips, and his face grew very hard. It wore
the look that some of those who knew him in business dreaded to see.
Upright and of iron resolution himself, he had small pity for the weak
and self-indulgent. Above all, he loathed men who had made ducks and
drakes of their money, who threw it away in unprofitable enterprises.
“I own that I have heard some rumours of this, that he bets too
highly, that he plays for too big stakes,” he said presently. “Well,
it would be a good thing if Master Archie could be removed from such a
corrupting influence.”
“Would to heaven that he could be.” There was a note of almost anguish
in the woman’s voice as she spoke, then she recovered herself quickly,
and added in a calmer tone: “But it is too late. His uncle worships
him, and he is devoted to his uncle.”
* * * * *
The morning came. Mr. Morrice was not going to his business house; a
client was calling on him in Deanery Street, and after that visit had
been paid, he was going to a jeweller’s in the West End for a certain
purpose. He had lately purchased some very fine and expensive diamonds,
which he had put away in readiness for an important event—the birthday
of his wife falling a week hence. He was going to have these made up
into a necklace and present it to her upon the happy occasion. Like
most women, she was passionately fond of jewels, and though she already
had plenty, he knew she would be delighted to add to her store.
The client who was paying him a visit was coming to receive a large
sum of money, a million francs, which the financier had put for safe
custody in that wonderful safe to which allusion has been made.
Morrice and Richard breakfasted alone that morning at an early hour,
while the ladies stayed in bed to recover from the fatigue of the
previous evening.
Neither of the men spoke much during the progress of the meal. The
financier’s busy brain was at work upon his various schemes, and he had
almost forgotten that conversation a few hours earlier with his wife
concerning her brother-in-law and Archie Brookes.
Young Croxton was very preoccupied too. This was the day on which,
fortified by the encouraging counsels of his sweetheart, he had
resolved to screw up his courage and ask Morrice’s consent to his
betrothal to Rosabelle.
The two men from time to time looked at their watches, and at last the
elder rose with a quick, alert movement.
“It wants five minutes, Dick. Let us be going.” They went into
Morrice’s study, a spacious room, solidly furnished. In a corner stood
a big safe, from which, when the actual time arrived, they were going
to take the packet of French notes and the loose diamonds. Two days
previously they had shifted them to an easily accessible spot.
They stood before the formidable-looking receptacle, watches in hand,
and then with a simultaneous exclamation of “Now!” from each, Morrice
and his confidential secretary inserted their two separate keys. The
heavy door swung back, the financier advanced his hand to the spot
where the articles had been placed, and drew back with a cry of dismay.
_The packet of French notes, the canvas bag containing the loose
diamonds, had been removed from their hiding place, also a parcel of
private papers containing important secrets._