Sir Robert preferred to join his wife and sister-in-law in the
drawing-room after luncheon. The Marquis, with a courteous word of
invitation, led his remaining guest across the grey stone hall into the
library beyond--a sparsely furnished and yet imposing looking
apartment, with its great tiers of books and austere book cases. On
his way, he drew attention carelessly to one or two paintings by old
masters, and pointed out a remarkable statue presented by a famous
Italian sculptor to his great-grandfather and now counted amongst the
world's treasures. His guest watched and observed in silence. There
was nothing of the uncouth sight-seer about him, still less of the
fulsome dilettante. They settled themselves in comfortable chairs in a
pleasant corner of the apartment.
A footman served them with coffee, a second man handed cigars, and the
butler himself carried a tray of liqueurs. The Marquis assumed an
attitude of complete satisfaction with the world in general.
"I am pleased to have this opportunity of a few words with you, Mr.
Thain," he said. "You are quite comfortable in that chair, I trust?"
"Perfectly, thank you."
"And my Larangas are not too mild? You will find darker-coloured
cigars in the cabinet by your side."
"Thank you," David Thain replied, "I smoke only mild tobacco."
"Personally," the Marquis sighed, "I can go no further than cigarettes.
A vice, perhaps," he added, watching the blue smoke curl upwards, "but
a fascinating one. So you came across this man Vont on the steamer.
Might I ask under what circumstances?"
"Richard Vont, as I think he called himself," was the quiet reply,
"shared a cabin in the second class with my servant. I was over there
once or twice and talked with him."
"That is very interesting," the Marquis observed. "He travelled second
class, eh? And yet the man has many thousands to throw away in these
absurd lawsuits with me."
"He may have money," Thain pointed out, "and yet feel more at home in
the second class. I understood that he had been a gamekeeper in
England and was returning to his old home."
"Did he speak of his purpose in doing so?"
"On the contrary, he was singularly taciturn. All that I could gather
from him was that he was returning to fulfill some purpose which he had
kept before him for a great many years."
The Marquis sighed. On his high, shapely forehead could be traced the
lines of a regretful frown.
"I was sure of it," he groaned. "The fellow is returning to make
himself a nuisance to me. He did not tell you his story, then, Mr.
Thain?"
"He showed no inclination to do so--in fact he avoided so far as
possible all discussion of his past."
"Richard Vont," the Marquis continued, raising his eyes to the ceiling,
"was one of those sturdy, thick-headed, unintelligent yeomen who have
been spoiled by the trifle of education doled out to their
grandfathers, their fathers and themselves. A few hundred years ago
they formed excellent retainers to the nobles under whose patronage
they lived. To-day, in these hideously degenerate days, Mr. Thain,
when half the world has moved forward and half stood still, they are an
anachronism. They find no seemly place in modern life."
David Thain sat very still. There was just a little flash in his eyes,
which came and went as sunlight might have gleamed across naked steel.
"But I must not forget," his host went on tolerantly, "that I am
speaking now to one who must to some extent have lost his sense of
social proportion by a prolonged sojourn in a country where life is
more or less a jumble."
"You refer to America?"
"Naturally! As a country resembling more than anything a gigantic
sausage machine wherein all races and men of all social status are
broken up on the wheel, puffed up with false ideas, and thrown out upon
the world, a newly fledged, cunning, but singularly ignorant race of
individuals, America possesses great interest to those--to those, in
short," the Marquis declared, with a little wave of the hand, "whom
such things interest. I am English, my forefathers were Saxon, my
instincts are perhaps feudal. That is why I regard the case of Richard
Vont from a point of view which you might possibly fail to appreciate.
Would it bore you if I continue?"
"Not in the least," David Thain assured him.
"Richard Vont was head-keeper at Mandeleys when I succeeded to the
title and estates, an advent which occurred a few years after my wife's
death. He was already occupying a peculiar position there, owing to
the generosity of my predecessor, whose life he had had the good
fortune to save. He had very foolishly married above him in
station--the girl was a school mistress, I believe. When I came to
Mandeleys, I found him living there, a widower with one daughter, and a
little boy, his nephew. The girl inherited her mother's superiority of
station and intellect, and was naturally unhappy. I noticed her with
interest, and she responded. Consequences which in the days of our
ancestors, Mr. Thain, would have been esteemed an honour to the persons
concerned, ensued. Richard Vont, like an ignorant clodhopper, viewed
the matter from the wrong standpoint.... You said something, I
believe? Pardon me. I sometimes fancy that I am a little deaf in my
left ear."
[Illustration: "Richard Vont was head-keeper at Mandeleys when I
succeeded to the title and estates."]
The Marquis leaned forward but David Thain shook his head. His lips
had moved indeed, but no word had issued from them.
"So far," his host went on, "the story contains no novel features. I
exercised what my ancestors, in whose spirit I may say that I live,
would have claimed as an undoubted right. Richard Vont, as I have
said, with his inheritance of ill-bestowed education, and a measure of
that extraordinary socialistic poison which seems, during the last few
generations, to have settled like an epidemic in the systems of the
agricultural classes, resented my action. His behaviour became so
intolerable that I was forced to dismiss him from my service, and
finally, to avoid a continuance of melodramatic scenes, which were
extremely unpleasant to every one concerned, I was obliged to leave
England for a time and travel upon the Continent."
"And, in the meantime, what happened at Mandeleys?" David Thain asked.
"Richard Vont and his nephew appear to have left for the United States
very soon after my own departure from England. The cottage he left in
the care of an elderly relative, who gave little trouble but much
annoyance. She attended a Primitive Methodist Chapel in the village,
and she passed both myself and the ladies of my household at all times
without obeisance."
"Dear me!" David Thain murmured under his breath.
"After her death, I instructed my lawyers to examine the legal title to
the Vont property and to see whether there was any chance of regaining
it. Its value would be, at the outside, say six or seven hundred
pounds. I advertised and offered two thousand, five hundred pounds to
regain, it. My solicitors came into touch with the man Vont through an
agent in America. His reply to their propositions on my behalf does
not bear repetition. I then instructed my lawyers to take such steps
as they could to have the deed of gift set aside, sufficient
compensation of course being promised. That must have been some eight
years ago. My efforts have come to an end to-day. The cottage remains
the property of Richard Vont. My own law costs have been considerable,
but by some means or other this man Vont has contrived to defend his
property at the expenditure of some five or six thousand pounds. One
can only conclude that he must have prospered in this strange country
of yours, Mr. Thain."
"To a stranger," the latter observed, "it seems curious that this man
should have set so high a value upon a property which must be full of
painful associations to him."
"The very arguments I made use of in our earlier correspondence," his
host assented. "I have told you the story, Mr. Thain, because it
occurred to me that this man might have communicated to you his reason
for returning after all these years to the neighbourhood."
"He told me nothing."
"Then I have wasted your time with a long and, I fear, a very dull
story," the Marquis apologised gracefully. "Shall we join the others?"
"There was just one question, if I might be permitted," David Thain
said, "which I should like to ask concerning the story which you have
told me. The girl to whom you have alluded--Vont's daughter--what
became of her?"
The Marquis for a moment stood perfectly still. He had just risen to
his feet and was standing where a gleam of sunlight fell upon his cold
and passionless features. His silence had, in its way, a curious
effect. He seemed neither to be thinking nor hesitating. He was just
in a state of suspense. Presently he leaned forward and knocked the
ash from his cigarette into the grate.
"The lady in question," he replied, "has found that place in the world
to which her gifts and charm entitle her. I fear that my sister will
be getting impatient. My daughter, too, I am sure, would like to
improve her acquaintance with you, Mr. Thain."
David Thain was, in his way, an obstinate and self-willed man, but he
found himself, for those first few moments, subject to his host's calm
but effectual closure of the conversation. Nevertheless, he recovered
himself in time to ask that other question as they left the room.
"The lady is alive, then?"
"She is alive," the Marquis acquiesced, in a colourless tone.
A servant threw open the door of the drawing-room. The Marquis
motioned to his guest to precede him.
"As I imagined," he murmured, "I see that my sister is impatient. You
will forgive me, Caroline," he went on, turning to the Duchess. "Mr.
Thain's conversation was most interesting. Letitia, my dear, do press
Mr. Thain to dine with us one evening. This afternoon I fear that I
have been unduly loquacious. I should welcome another opportunity of
conversing with him concerning his wonderful country."
Letitia picked up a little morocco-bound volume from the table and
consulted it. Sir Robert drew the prospective guest a little on one
side.
"For heaven's sake," he whispered, "don't give the Marquis any
financial tips. He has a fancy that he is destined to restore the
fortunes of the Mandeleys on the Stock Exchange. He is a delightfully
ornamental person, but I can assure you that as a father-in-law he is a
distinct luxury."
David Thain smiled grimly.
"I shall be careful," he promised.