A COUNTERPLOT
Captain Sargent was somewhat disheartened by Lesbia's steady
opposition to his wooing. He was not virile enough to take her heart
by storm, and his usual tactics did not seem to succeed with this
cool, quiet, observant girl, who looked at him so straight. Also his
threats of harming George Walker and Mr. Hale proved to be but blunt
weapons and could not penetrate the shield of Lesbia's composure.
Sargent retreated from the field of battle thoroughly beaten, and he
must have confessed as much to Hale, for that gentleman took his
daughter to task when she returned to the cottage after her secret
interview with Canning. The unsuccessful lover had already departed,
and Lesbia listened for ten minutes to her father's denunciations of
what he was pleased to style her wickedness.
"You ought to be flattered that so rich and handsome a man loves you,"
raged Mr. Hale, who for once in his life lost his self-control. "You
seem to forget that if I died to-morrow--and I might as my heart is
affected--you would be left penniless."
Lesbia raised her eyebrows. "I understood you to say that you could
leave me two thousand a year," she observed quietly.
"If you marry as I wish," cried her father furiously, "not otherwise.
Failing your becoming the wife of my dear friend, Sargent, I shall
leave the money to Lord Charvington."
"Well," said the girl cheerfully, "that would only be fair, since he
has paid you a pension for so long."
"What do you know about that?" snapped Hale, changing colour.
"Very little. But you certainly told me in an expansive moment that
Lord Charvington, as your cousin, allowed you a small income."
"Precious small," muttered Hale, not contradicting.
"But why does he allow you anything?" asked Lesbia, very directly,
"with two thousand a year you cannot wish for his help."
Hale took a turn up and down the room, then stopped opposite to his
daughter and spoke in quieter tones, but none the less emphatic. "I am
not enjoying two thousand a year at present," he declared slowly, "and
so accept an annuity from Charvington, who, being my cousin, has every
right to assist me."
"I don't see that," murmured the girl, shrugging.
"It doesn't matter what you see, or what you don't see," cried Hale,
his temper again getting beyond control. "Do as you are told, or
chance the consequences."
"Be a pawn in fact," she rejoined ironically. "A pawn on your
chess-board."
Hale shrugged in his turn. "Put it how you like," he retorted, "but
obey."
"Certainly not. I am a human being and have the right to----"
"You have the right to do nothing," broke in her father desperately.
"See here, my girl, you are making a great mistake by not letting me
guide you. Had you been open about that amethyst cross, I should never
have allowed you to give it to George Walker. Its possession means
more than you think. The two thousand a year depends upon its
production."
"Oh!" Lesbia opened her eyes widely. "I see. Then you are willing that
I should marry George if you get this two thousand."
"Yes," said Hale bluntly, "but for circumstances which do not concern
you--I prefer that you should marry Sargent."
"Marriage with anyone concerns me a great deal," said Lesbia coolly,
"and I decline to marry a man I do not love. As to the cross: it was
my own property left to me by my mother, and if its production will
bring me two thousand a year I am very sorry it is lost."
"I did not say that it meant two thousand a year to _you_," said Hale
uneasily, and with a scowl.
"Pardon me, father. I assume that, since I am the owner of the cross.
However, it is lost and neither I nor you know where to find it. That
being the case I refuse to marry Captain Sargent and shall marry
George."
"You have sent him away: you forget that."
"I can bring him again to my feet."
"Lesbia Lesbia! you are playing with fire."
"Probably, but I shall continue to play until you tell me the meaning
of all these things."
"I have told you about the cross----"
"Quite so," interrupted the girl drily, "and I now know why George was
assaulted and his mother's cottage robbed."
"You dare to say that I am the guilty person," demanded her father
suspiciously.
"Oh no. If you were, you would have the cross; and thus being able to
get the two thousand a year, you would not oppose my marriage with
George. You are innocent!"
"Thank you for nothing," sneered Hale coolly, "but you can reckon on
this, Lesbia, that if I could have knocked down George and have robbed
him of the cross I should have done so."
"That is candid, father."
"You asked me to be candid. But, hold your tongue, or else talk sense.
You must marry Sargent. I shall not allow you to throw yourself away
on that thief, and----"
"Stop!" cried Lesbia, rising indignantly, "you shall not call George
names in my hearing. He is no thief."
"Can you prove that?"
It was on the tip of the girl's tongue to speak out and accuse Tait.
But she first desired to see Maud Ellis in order to cut her claws, and
therefore, with a self-restraint far beyond her years, she shook her
head.
Hale sneered again, "You are a silly romantic fool," he scoffed, "and
sooner or later I shall force you to do my will."
"Never! Never! Never!"
"Oh, very well," replied Hale, baffled by her obstinacy, "then I shall
go to London and leave you here. I shall not speak to you, or eat with
you, or have anything to do with you, until you obey me as a daughter
should," and turning on his heel, he departed in cold anger.
Hale duly kept his promise and went away leaving the girl to her own
devices. But so clever a man should have known that the punishment--as
he deemed it--was no punishment at all. He had never been a father to
Lesbia in the accepted sense of the word, and she had but small
affection for him. Alone with Tim, she was much happier than when in
Mr. Hale's chilling presence, and preferred his room to his company.
Also, he was really playing into her hands, as she wished to be alone
in order to see Maud and bring her to reason. It was not Lesbia's wish
to call again at Henley, as she thought that she could deal better
with Miss Ellis when she was on her native heath. Therefore, now that
Hale was out of the way, and she was free to do what she desired, she
set to work to concoct a plot, whereby to bring Maud Ellis to the
cottage at Marlow.
To this end she wrote a letter stating that she and George were to be
married shortly, and that Miss Ellis's scheme had failed. This artful
epistle she posted to Henley, hoping that if Miss Ellis was in London
it would be forwarded to her there. She felt certain--since, being a
woman, she knew woman's nature better than a man could know it--that
Maud would seek an interview and come to Rose Cottage. Of course there
was the chance that Maud might first interview Walker, and then learn
the falsity of the statement. But in that case, George would come to
learn the truth, and then she could tell him what Canning had
discovered. In fact, owing to the skilful way in which Lesbia played
her one trump card, she was certain to bring to the cottage either
Maud Ellis or George Walker: and whichever came, she was prepared to
deal with the situation. All the same, she hoped that Maud would be
the one to put in an appearance, as if she could silence her, she
could then call at the Medmenham cottage and explain to her lover the
reason why she had dismissed him. Accordingly, when the letter setting
the trap was posted, Lesbia sat down to think over the behaviour of
Walker.
It puzzled her that he should so tamely accept his dismissal. On the
face of it she had treated him cruelly, and had given no reason for
abruptly breaking off the engagement. All the same, she considered,
woman-like, that he should not have acquiesced too readily to her
proposal that they should never meet again. But she forgot that George
was a proud man, and that the sole reason he could assign for her
dismissing him, was the fact that he was suspected of robbery. If she
believed him guilty--George, as she might have thought, would have
argued in this way--and had not sufficient love to stand up for him,
then she was not worthy of the worship he bestowed on her. But Lesbia
did not think thus. She only knew that she had sent George to the
right-about and that he had gone away without looking back for a
single moment. This was not as it should be, said the woman within
her, and therefore she secretly felt annoyed with Walker for his too
ready obedience. It can therefore be seen that Lesbia Hale was
intensely feminine. Perhaps on that account George loved her the more,
since the unexpected in woman is always what lures the man.
However, think what she would, and argue as she might, the fact
remained that Walker kept away from Rose Cottage and that she had not
sufficient courage to face her lover, when under the wing of his
mother. Lesbia missed the golden days of wooing dreadfully, and in
their absence was anxious to carry on her counterplot, if only to fill
in the time. Besides, there would be a considerable amount of pleasure
in beating Miss Ellis with her own weapons. It was therefore a happy
day to Lesbia that brought the stockbroker's niece into the trap, as
this time the biter was about to be bitten. And Lesbia, being a woman
and dealing with a woman, determined to show no mercy since Maud had
shown none. Besides, the two were fighting over a man, and so reverted
to the ethics of cave life and pre-historic struggle.
Within four days of the posting of the letter, Miss Ellis arrived and
was shown by Tim into the tiny drawing-room. It was empty, as Lesbia
had seen her rival coming, and therefore had departed to change her
frock. Also she hoped to make Maud lose her temper by enforced
waiting, knowing that if she did, there would be less difficulty in
dealing with her. Unsophisticated as Lesbia was, she instinctively
knew how to fight. Her tactics were correct, for when she entered
spick and span and smiling into the drawing-room, she found Maud
fuming restlessly, and quite ready to pick a quarrel on the score of
uncivil treatment.
"I have been kept waiting," said Miss Ellis in a Louis XIV tone, and
putting up a lorgnette to glare at her much too beautiful rival.
"I am so sorry," responded Lesbia politely. "But I was not dressed to
receive anyone, and your visit is unexpected."
Maud laughed contemptuously. "You knew that I would come," she
declared with conviction. "You have been looking out for me every
day."
"_You_ say so," said Lesbia, still graciously, for since the last
interview at Henley, she had changed her tactics with Miss Ellis.
"Will you not be seated? This chair is most comfortable, it has its
back to the light."
"I don't need to sit with my back to the light," flashed Maud
indignantly.
"Oh, I beg pardon, but from that lorgnette I thought that your eyes
might be weak. Sit here then, in the full warmth of the sunshine."
But Miss Ellis knew better than to let the searching light reveal her
age too clearly to her hostess. "I'll sit here," she declared
abruptly, and came to rest on the sofa.
"That's right," said Lesbia caressingly, "It's a nice shady corner."
Maud bit her lip, knowing perfectly well that Lesbia was casting a
reflection on her age. But having taken the seat she could scarcely
leave it without laying herself open to further pointed remarks, so
she remained where she was and came to the object of her visit at
once. "What do you mean by writing me this letter?" she demanded,
producing the epistle of her hostess.
"I mean to show you that your plot to part George and myself has
failed."
Miss Ellis crushed up the letter savagely. "Has it," she inquired,
"seeing that you have broken your engagement?"
"How do you know that?"
"Mrs. Walker told me. And very glad she is I can tell you. Mrs. Walker
is an old friend of my uncle's and has known me for years. She wants
George to marry me. She told me so only a few days ago."
"As if it mattered what she said," retorted Lesbia contemptuously.
"She is George's mother."
"No one denies that."
"And as he is her son, he should obey her."
"Even when she wants him to marry a woman he cares nothing for."
"George does care for me," cried Maud, a deep flush overspreading her
face even to the roots of her sandy hair. "I admit that when he was
engaged to you, he would not look at me. But now that you have thrown
him over so cruelly, he has turned to me for consolation."
"I don't believe it," said Lesbia quickly.
"You must, you shall," snapped Miss Ellis very much in earnest. "Look
here, this sort of thing won't do."
"What sort of thing?"
"This enmity you have towards me. I don't know why you are behaving so
exasperatingly," wailed Maud plaintively. "When you came to Henley, it
was the first time we met, and for your father's sake I was anxious to
make a friend of you. But you were so rude and so silly that I could
not. But I am willing to make every allowance for your want of
training, and so I have come here to ask you to be friends."
"Oh, I don't mind, provided you will leave George alone."
"I shan't, so there. I love him."
"So do I. And as he loves me I have the prior claim."
"But you have broken your engagement and so have left the field open
to me. Don't be a dog in the manger."
"I am not. I love George and I have always loved him. I sent the
letter I did because of what my father told me. You lured George into
a trap, and--as you said yourself at Henley--you can get him arrested.
Because of your attitude I was compelled to dismiss him, or see him
ruined."
Miss Ellis put up her lorgnette with an air of triumph. "You have
stated the case accurately, save for one remark," she declared. "I
_can_ ruin George Walker, and I shall do so unless he marries me. But
I did not lure him into a trap. I merely took advantage of
circumstances."
"Which you knew existed."
"What do you mean by that?"
"What I say," retorted Lesbia, keeping her eyes on Maud's face. "You
appointed that place and that hour of meeting in order to implicate
George in a robbery which you knew was about to take place."
Miss Ellis sprang to her feet with a white face and trembling hands.
"You go too far," she said, in a suffocating voice. "Why should
I?--Why should I?--Oh," she stamped, "your remarks are infamous."
"They are true."
"It's a lie! they are not true. I had no idea that my uncle's
strong-room was to be robbed of those jewels on that night and at that
hour. If I had known I should have prevented the robbery."
"Mr. Tait would not have thanked you for doing so," replied Lesbia
meaningly.
"Are you mad?" gasped Maud, and her face became a dull brick-red.
"No," answered Lesbia drily, "I am merely well-informed."
"Informed of what?" Miss Ellis moistened her dry lips.
"That Mr. Tait wanted money to tide over a financial crisis, and
arranged to have the jewels stolen, so that he could sell them
secretly."
"It's a lie--a lie," cried Maud again, and the perspiration broke out
on her quivering face; "my uncle is a wealthy man: everyone knows
that. If he wanted money he could have sold the jewels openly--they
were his own."
"You forget the insurance at Lloyd's."
Maud dropped on to the sofa as though she had been shot. "The
insurance?"
"Yes. Mr. Tait insured those jewels for something like twenty thousand
pounds, and so had them stolen. Certainly he could have sold them
openly, as you say, but then he would have got only half the money he
requires."
"Half the money?" Maud gasped again, and suddenly looked double her
age.
"Of course, twenty thousand pounds. By insuring the jewels and by
having them stolen, he will gain the proceeds of the sale he has
arranged with the thieves, besides the twenty thousand from the
insurance."
"You dare--to--accuse--my--oh," Maud jumped up fiercely and stamped
angrily, "it is ridiculous; what proof have you of this absurd tale?"
"I have absolute proof," said Lesbia quietly and rising in her turn.
"Mr. Canning--The Shadow--who watched me here at my father's request,
found out what I say and, if necessary, he can prove the truth of what
he found out. And he will, at my request, if you do not promise to
leave George alone and swear that you will not accuse him of a crime
of which--as you knew all the time--he is innocent."
But Maud heard only half this speech. "Canning, The Shadow," she
muttered, "do you mean Captain Sargent's valet?"
"Yes. I nursed him through an illness, and he has shown his gratitude
to me by discovering your uncle's plot, and proving your knowledge of
it. I can prove what I say with Canning's assistance, and I shall do
so, unless you promise to do as I have asked you."
Maud buttoned her jacket with trembling hands and moved towards the
door hastily. "You are talking rubbish," she muttered in a thick
voice. "I refuse to talk of the matter. It is too silly. But," she
faced round, "I shall tell my uncle, and he shall have you put in
gaol."
"He will be in gaol himself," retorted Lesbia "As soon as you leave
this house, I shall arrange with Mr. Canning to go to the police and
state what he told me."
"You would not dare."
"Yes, I would, unless you swear not to accuse George and promise to
leave him to me. I said that before: I say so again, and for the last
time."
"It's a----" Maud was about to say that it was a lie for the third
time, but the word died away on her lips. Whether Maud was cognizant
of the plot to steal the jewels Lesbia could not say, as she made no
remark on this point: but her very silence showed that she was in the
business. Lesbia's attitude left her no alternative but to make terms,
since if she left the house, there was every danger that her uncle
might be arrested. "If I do what you ask, will you hold your tongue?"
Maud demanded faintly.
"Then you admit that what I say is true?" countered Miss Hale.
"No," almost shouted Miss Ellis, "I do not. Still, mud sticks however
wrongly thrown, and I do not want my uncle to suffer through me. As to
Canning, oh, my uncle will deal with him I promise you. Not a word. I
agree to all you ask. I must. I shall not accuse George: I shall leave
him to you and," she leaned forward with a snarl, "I shall bring
misery on you at the eleventh hour."
"I defy you," retorted Lesbia with scorn.
"Very good." Maud smiled in an evil way. "We shall see who wins the
dangerous game you are playing. I----" she broke off abruptly and left
in haste.