CRESTWICK GIVES TROUBLE
The little room in Marple's house, where the Crestwicks were staying, was
hot and partly filled with cigar smoke which drifted in filmy streaks
athwart the light of the green-shaded hanging-lamp. Lisle sat beneath the
lamp, studying the cards in his hand, until he leaned back in his chair
and flung a glance about the table. There were no counters on it, but
Gladwyne had just noted something in a little book and was waiting with a
languid smile upon his handsome face. Next to him sat Batley, looking
thoughtful; and Crestwick sat opposite Lisle, eager and unhealthily
flushed. His forehead showed damp in the lamplight and there was an
unpleasant glitter in his eyes. It was close on to midnight and luck had
gone hard against him during the past hour, half of which Lisle had spent
in his company. This had cost Lisle more money than he was willing to
part with.
"It's getting late," he said with a yawn. "After this hand, I'll drop
out; I dare say one of the other two will take my place. Crestwick, I
believe your sister and Miss Leslie will be waiting. You're going with
them, aren't you?"
The lad, turning in his chair, reached toward a near-by table on which
there were bottles and siphons, and took a glass from it. He had been
invited to join a shooting party at a house in the neighborhood and was
to spend the night there.
"Oh!" he exclaimed with some irritation; "Bella's always in such an
unreasonable hurry. The others can't be going yet. I think I hear Flo
Marple singing."
A voice from somewhere below reached them through the open door. It was a
good voice, but the words were a silly jingle and the humor in them could
not be considered delicate. Lisle, glancing at Gladwyne, noticed his
slight frown, but one of the two young men lounging by the second table
watching the game hummed the refrain with an appreciative smile upon his
heavy and somewhat fatuous face.
"They'll take half an hour to get ready," declared Batley. "Better play
out this round, anyhow."
They laid down their cards in turn and then Crestwick noisily thrust his
chair back.
"Another knock-out!" he exclaimed savagely. "I don't like to get up so
far behind. Shall we double on another deal?"
"As you like," returned Batley. "You're plucky, considering the cards
you've had; but if Fortune's fickle, she's supposed to favor a determined
suitor."
It was innocent enough, but Lisle fancied that there was sufficient
flattery in the speech to incite the headstrong lad, who had now emptied
the glass at his hand. He remembered that on another occasion when there
had been a good deal at stake, Batley had played on Crestwick's feelings,
though in a slightly different manner. Whether or not the young man lost
more than he could afford was, in one way, no concern of Lisle's, and he
did not find him in the least attractive; but half an hour previously
Bella had met him in the hall and had hinted, with a troubled look, that
she would appreciate it if he could get her brother away. It was this
that accounted for the Canadian's presence in the card-room.
"I'm going, anyway," he said, taking out some notes and gold and laying
them down. "There has been a smart shower and you had better remember
that Miss Leslie walked over--the roads will be wet. As you know, I
promised to take the girls back in Nasmyth's trap, and he won't thank me
if I keep his groom up."
Crestwick grumbled and hesitated, and he grew rather red in face as he
turned to Batley.
"I've only these two notes," he explained. "Expected all along I'd pull
up even. Will you arrange things? See you about it when I come back."
Batley nodded carelessly, and the lad stood up, looking irresolutely at
the table.
"Fact is," he went on, "I'd like to get straight before I go. I'm in
pretty heavy for one night; another round might do something to set me
straight."
"Gladwyne and I are quite willing to give you your chance," was Batley's
quick reply; but Lisle unceremoniously laid his hand on Crestwick's
shoulder.
"Come along," he urged, laughing. "Luck's against you; you've had quite
enough."
He had the lad out of the door in another moment, and looking back from
the landing he saw a curious look in Gladwyne's face which he thought was
one of disgust. Batley, however, was frowning openly; and the two men's
expressions had a meaning for him. He was inclined to wonder whether he
had used force too ostensibly in ejecting the lad; but, after all, that
did not very much matter--his excuse was good enough. As they went down
the stairs, Crestwick turned to him, hot and angry.
"It strikes me you're pretty officious! Never saw you until two or three
weeks ago," he muttered. "Not accustomed to being treated in that offhand
manner. It's Colonial, I suppose!"
"Sorry," Lisle apologized with a smile. "I've an idea that you'll be
grateful when you cool off. You've been going it pretty strong to-night."
"That's true," agreed the other with a show of pride. "Kept on raising
them; made things lively!"
"Found it expensive, didn't you?" Lisle suggested; and as they reached
the foot of the stairs he led his companion toward the door. "Suppose we
take a turn along the terrace before we look for your sister."
Crestwick went with him, but presently he stopped and leaned on the low
wall.
"Do you ever feel inclined for a flutter on the stock-market?" he
inquired. "There's a thing Batley put me on to--there'll be developments
in a month or two; it's going to a big premium. Let you have a hundred
shares at par. Rather in a hole, temporarily."
Lisle had no intention of buying the stock, but he asked a few questions.
It appeared that it had been issued by a new company formed to grow
coffee and rubber in the tropics.
"No," he said; "a deal of that kind is out of my line. Why not sell them
through a broker and get your full profit?"
"It would take some days," answered the other. "Besides, they won't move
up until the directors let things out at the next meeting. Something of
that kind, anyway; I forget--Batley explained it." He paused and added
irritably: "Believe I told you I'm in a hole."
"You must meet your losses and don't know how to manage it?"
Lisle was curious and had no diffidence about putting the question,
though the lad was obviously off his guard.
"I can raise the money right enough--Batley'll see to that; but I'd
sooner do it another way. The interest's high enough to make one think,
and in this case I'm paying it on money he's putting into his pocket."
There was a good deal to be inferred from this reply, but Lisle
considered before he spoke again.
"You're twenty-one, aren't you?" he asked.
"Yes," assented the lad, "but the trustees keep hold until I'm
twenty-four."
He turned with quick suspicion to the Canadian.
"I don't see what that has to do with you!"
"It isn't very obvious," Lisle agreed. "Shall we go in?"
They found Bella in the hall, and when her brother went to get-his coat
she walked out on to the terrace with Lisle.
"Thank you," she said gratefully when they were out of sight from the
hall. "It was a relief to see you had succeeded in getting him away."
"I'm sorry I was unable to do so sooner," Lisle replied.
"Ah! Then he has been losing heavily again?"
"I'm afraid so. I couldn't make my interference too marked." Obeying some
impulse, he laid his hand on her arm. "Rather a handful for you, isn't
he?"
Bella nodded, making no attempt to shake off his grasp.
"Yes," she acknowledged with some bitterness; "but I can hardly complain
that I have no control over him. It would be astonishing if I had." She
broke into a little harsh laugh. "Anyway, I manage to keep my head, and
do not deceive myself, as he does. I know what our welcome's worth and
what the few people whose opinion counts for anything think of us."
"Well," offered Lisle, "if I can be of service in any respect--"
"Thanks," she interrupted, and turned back toward the door.
When they reached the hall she glanced at her companion as the light fell
on his face.
"Your offer's genuine," she said impulsively. "I can't see what you
expect in return."
Lisle was puzzled by her expression. She was variable in her moods,
generally somewhat daring, and addicted to light mockery. He could not
tell whether she spoke in bitterness or in mischief.
"No," he replied gravely, "nor do I."
She left him with a laugh; and a little later he drove her and her
companions away and afterward returned to Nasmyth's house to find that
his host had retired. Lisle followed his example and rising early the
next morning they set off for the river, up which the sea-trout were
running. They were busy all morning and it was not until noon, when they
lay in the sunshine eating their lunch on a bank of gravel, that either
of them made any allusion to the previous evening.
"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" Nasmyth asked.
"Fairly," Lisle responded, smiling. "I've already confessed that you
people interest me. At the same time, I had my difficulties--first of all
to explain to the Marples why you didn't come. The reasons you gave
didn't sound convincing."
"They were good enough. It's probable that Marple understood them. Like
most of my neighbors, I go once or twice in a year; his subscription to
the otter hounds entitles him to that."
"We don't look at things in that way in the parts of Canada I'm
acquainted with," laughed Lisle.
"Then I've no doubt you'll come to it," Nasmyth replied with some
dryness. "They've done so already in the older cities. Now--since you're
fond of candor--you have been glad to earn a dollar or two a day by
chopping and shoveling, haven't you? Have you felt left out in the cold
at all during the little while you have spent among us?"
"Not in the least," Lisle owned.
"Then you can infer what you like from that. In this country, we take a
good deal for granted and avoid explanations. But you haven't said
anything about the proceedings at Marple's. I suppose you were invited to
take a hand at cards?"
"I invited myself; result, sixty dollars to the bad in half an hour. I
used to hold my own in our mining camps, and I hadn't the worst cards."
Nasmyth laughed with unconcealed enjoyment.
"The only fault I have to find with you Westerners is that you're rather
apt to overrate yourselves. I suppose they let young Crestwick in a good
deal deeper?"
"That," laughed Lisle, "is what you have been leading up to from the
beginning."
"I'll admit it. As I've hinted, one of the differences between an
American and an Englishman is that the former usually expresses more or
less forcibly what he thinks, unless, of course, he's a financier or a
politician; while you have often to learn by experience what the latter
means. Better use your own methods in telling me what took place."
Lisle did so, omitting any reference to Bella, and Nasmyth looked
disturbed and disgusted.
"Crestwick's as devoid of sense as he is of manners; he deserves to lose.
What I can't get over is that fellow Batley's staying in what was once
George Gladwyne's house, with Clarence standing sponsor for him."
Lisle fancied he could understand. Nasmyth had his failings, but he had
also his simple, drastic code, and it was repugnant to him that a man of
his own caste, one of a family he had long known and respected, should
countenance an outsider of Batley's kind and assist him in fleecing a
silly vicious lad.
"You have no reason to think well of Gladwyne," Lisle reminded him.
"I haven't," Nasmyth owned. "Still, though the man has made one very bad
break, I hardly expected him to exceed every limit. At present it looks
as if he might do so; he'll probably be forced to."
"I don't quite understand."
"Then I'll have to explain. It's unpleasant, but here the thing is, as I
see it--Batley's not the kind of man Clarence would willingly associate
with, and to give Clarence his dues, all his instinct must make him
recoil from the fellow's game with Crestwick. Considering that he's
apparently making no protest against it, this is proof to me that Batley
has some pretty firm hold on him."
"What's Batley's profession?"
"I suspect he's something in the smart money-lending line; one of the
fellows who deal with minors and others on post-obits."
"Post-obits?"
"Promises to pay after somebody's dead. Suppose there should be only an
invalid or an old man between you and a valuable property; you could
borrow on the strength of your expectations. Now, what Crestwick told you
shows that the person who left him his money very wisely handed it to
trustees, with instructions to pay him only an allowance until he's
twenty-four. It's a somewhat similar case to the one I've instanced--he's
drawing on a capital he can't get possession of for two or three years,
and no doubt paying an extortionate interest. So far as I know, no
respectable bank or finance broker would handle that kind of business."
"But if the boy died before he succeeded to the property?"
"Batley could cover the risk by making Crestwick take out an insurance
policy in his favor."
Lisle's face grew stern, and Nasmyth lay smoking in silence for a while.
Then he broke out again:
"It's intolerable! George Gladwyne's successor abetting that fellow in
robbing the lad, luring him into wagers and reckless play with the result
that most of the borrowed money goes straight back into the hands of the
man who lent it!"
"Have you any suspicion that Gladwyne gets a share?"
"No," replied Nasmyth, with signs of strong uneasiness; "I can't believe
he benefits in that manner--if he did, I'd feel it my duty to denounce
him. Still, I expect he wins a little now and then, incidentally."
Again there was silence for a while, broken finally by Lisle.
"When I'd been here a week or two I began to see that my task wasn't
quite so simple as it had appeared--you can't attack a man situated as
Gladwyne is without hurting innocent people. Indeed, I've spent hours
wondering how, when the time comes, I can clear Vernon's memory, with the
least possible damage--that is my business, not the punishing of
Gladwyne, though he deserves no consideration. As you say, a man may make
a bad break and pull up again, but this one has had his chance and has
gone in deeper. What he's doing now--helping to ruin that lad in
cold-blood--is almost worse than the other offense."
Nasmyth made an acquiescent gesture.
"It's true; let it go at that. I don't see how the thing can be stopped.
There's a fish rising in the slack yonder!"
Lisle saw a silvery gleam in a strip of less-troubled water behind a
boulder and taking up his rod he cast the gaudy fly across the ripple.
There was a jar, a musical clinking of the reel, and when Nasmyth waded
in with ready net all thought of Gladwyne passed out of the Canadian's
mind.
After a few minutes' keen excitement, they landed the beautiful
glistening trout; and then they set off down-stream in search of another,
scrambling over rock and gravel and wading amidst the froth in the pools.
Overhead, soft gray clouds drifted by, casting long shadows across
fern-clad hillside and far-reaching moor; and the flood flashed into
silver gleams and grew dim again.
Both of the men were well content with their surroundings, and now and
then Nasmyth wondered why Clarence could not be satisfied with the simple
pleasures that were freely offered him. He could have had the esteem of
his neighbors and the good will of his tenants, and there were healthful
tasks that would have kept him occupied--the care of his estate, the
improving of the homes and conditions of life of those who worked for
him, experiments in stock-raising, local public duties. He had once
slipped badly, so badly that the offense could hardly be contemplated;
but that was when he was weak and famishing and under the influence of an
overwhelming fear. At least, he could make some reparation by leaving the
countryside better than he found it, and in this he had friends who would
loyally assist him.
Clarence, however, had chosen another way, one that led down-hill to
further dishonor; and Nasmyth considered gloomily what the end of it all
would be. Occasionally he glanced at the lithe figure of the Canadian,
standing knee-deep amid the froth of the stream. Serious-eyed, alert,
resolute, he could be depended on to carry out any purpose he had
determined on; it was his firm hands that would hold Clarence's scourge.