MR. HOBSON CALLS.
The _Arcadia_ went direct from Gibraltar to Southampton, where Mrs.
Wilders left it and returned to London.
It was necessary for her to review her position and look things in the
face. Her circumstances were undoubtedly straitened since her
husband's death. She had her pension as the widow of a general
officer--but this was a mere pittance at best--and the interest of the
small private fortune settled, at the time of the marriage, on her and
her children, should she have any. Her income from both these sources
amounted to barely £300 a year--far too meagre an amount according to
her present ideas, burdened as she was, moreover, with the care and
education of a child.
But how was she to increase it? The reversion of the great Wilders
estates still eluded her grasp; they might never come her way,
whatever lengths she might go to secure them.
"Lord Essendine ought to do something for me," she told herself, as
soon as she was settled in town. "It was not fair to keep the
existence of this hateful young man secret; my boy suffers by it, poor
little orphan! Surely I can make a good case of this to his lordship;
and, after all, the child comes next."
She wrote accordingly to the family lawyers, Messrs. Burt and Benham,
asking for an interview, and within a day or two saw the senior
partner, Mr. Burt.
He was blandly sympathetic, but distant.
"Allow me to offer my deep condolence, madam; but as this is, I
presume, a business visit, may I ask--"
"I am left in great distress. I wish to appeal to Lord Essendine."
"On what grounds?"
"My infant son is the next heir."
"Nay; surely you know--there is another before him?"
"Before my boy! Who? What can you mean? Impossible! I have never heard
a syllable of this. I shall contest it."
It suited her to deny all knowledge, thinking it strengthened her
position.
"That would be quite useless. The claims of the next heir are
perfectly sound."
"It is sheer robbery! It is scandalous, outrageous! I will go and see
Lord Essendine myself."
"Pardon me, madam; I fear that is out of the question. He is in
Scotland, living in retirement. Lady Essendine's health has failed
greatly under recent afflictions."
"He must and shall know how I am situated."
"You may trust me to tell him, madam, at once; and, although I have no
right to pledge his lordship, I think I can safely say that he will
meet you in a liberal spirit."
So it proved. Lord Essendine, after a short interval, wrote himself to
Mrs. Wilders a civil, courtly letter, in which he promised her a
handsome allowance, with a substantial sum in cash down to furnish a
house and make herself a home.
Although still bitterly dissatisfied with her lot, she was now not
only fortified against indigence, but could count on a life of comfort
and ease. She established herself in a snug villa down Brompton way--a
small house with a pretty garden, of the kind now fast disappearing
from what was then a near suburb of the town. It was well mounted; she
kept several servants, a neat brougham, and an excellent cook.
There she prepared to wait events, trusting that Russian bullet or
Benito's Spanish knife might yet rid her of the one obstacle that
still stood between her son and the inheritance of great wealth.
It was with a distinct annoyance, then, while leading this tranquil
but luxurious life, that her man-servant brought in a card one
afternoon, bearing the name of Hobson, and said, "The gentleman hopes
you will be able to see him at once."
"How did you find me out?" she asked, angrily, when her visitor--the
same Mr. Hobson we saw at Constantinople--was introduced.
"Ah! How do I find everything and everybody out? That's my affair--my
business, I may say."
"And what do you want?" went on Mrs. Wilders, in the same key.
"First of all, to condole with you on the loss of so many near
relatives. I missed you at Constantinople after Lord Lydstone's sad
and dreadful death."
Mrs. Wilders shuddered in spite of herself.
"You suffer remorse?" he said, mockingly.
She made a gesture of protest.
"Sorrow, I should say. Yet you benefited greatly."
"On the contrary, not at all. Another life still intervenes."
"Another! and you knew nothing of it! Impossible!"
"It is too true. I am as far as ever from the accomplishment of my
hopes."
"Who is this unknown interloper?"
"An English officer, at present serving in the Crimea. His name is
McKay: Stanislas McKay."
"The name is familiar; the Christian name is suggestive. Do you know
whether he is of Polish origin?"
"Yes, I have heard so. His father was once in the Russian army."
"It is the same, then. There can be no doubt of it. And you would like
to see him out of the way? I might help you, perhaps."
"How? I have my own agents at work."
"He is in the Crimea, you say?"
"Yes, or will be within a few weeks."
"If we could inveigle him into the Russian lines he would be shot or
hanged as a traitor. He is a Russian subject in arms against his
Czar."
"It would be difficult, I fear, to get him into Russian hands."
"Some stratagem might accomplish it. You have agents at work, you say,
in the Crimea?"
"They can go there."
"Put me in communication with them, and leave it all to me."
"You will place me under another onerous obligation, Hippolyte."
"No, thanks. I am about to ask a favour in return. You can help me, I
think."
"Yes? Command me."
"You have many acquaintances in London; your late husband's friends
were military men. I want a little information at times."
Mrs. Wilders looked at him curiously.
"Why don't you call things by their right names? You would like to
employ me as a spy--is that what you mean?"
"Well, if you like to put it so, yes. I suppose I can count upon you?"
"I am sorry not to be able to oblige you, but I am afraid I must say
no."
"You are growing squeamish, Cyprienne, in your old age. To think of
your having scruples!"
"I despise your sneers. It does not suit me to do what you wish,
that's all; it would be unsafe."
"What have you to lose?"
"All this." She waved her hand round the prettily-furnished room.
"Lord Essendine has been very kind to me, and if there were any
suspicions--if any rumour got about that I was employed by or for
you--he would certainly withdraw the income he gives me."
Mr. Hobson laughed quietly.
"You have given yourself away, as they say in America; you have put
yourself in my hands, Cyprienne. I insist now upon your doing what I
wish."
"You shall not browbeat me!" She rose from her seat, with indignation
in her face. "Leave me, or I will call the servants."
"I shall go straight to Lord Essendine, then, and tell him all I know.
How would you like that? How about your allowance, and the protection
of that great family? Don't you know, foolish woman, that you are
absolutely and completely in my power?"
Mrs. Wilders made no reply. Her face was a study; many emotions
struggled for mastery--fear, sullen obstinacy, and impotent rage.
"Come, be more reasonable," went on Mr. Hobson, "Our partnership is of
long standing; it cannot easily be dissolved; certainly not now. After
all, what is it I ask you? A few questions put adroitly to the right
person, an occasional visit to some official friend; to keep your eyes
and ears open, and be always on the watch. Surely, there is no great
trouble, no danger, in that?"
"If you will have it so, I suppose I must agree. But where and how am
I to begin?"
"I leave it all to you, my dear madam; you are much more at home in
this great town than I am. I can only indicate the lines on which you
should proceed."
"How shall I communicate with you?"
"Only by word of mouth. When you have anything to say, write to
me--there is my address"--he pointed to his card--"Duke Street, St.
James's. Write just three lines, asking me to lunch, nothing more; I
shall understand."
"And about this hated McKay?"
"Let me know when he returns to the Crimea. We shall be able to hit
upon a plan then. But it will require some thought, and a reckless,
unscrupulous tool."
"I know the very man. He is devoted to my interests, and a bitter
enemy of McKay's."
"We shall succeed then, never fear," and with these words Mr. Hobson
took his leave.