A DINNER-PARTY SUB ROSA.
In less than a week's time I was master of the state of affairs at Borden
Tower. Dr. Randall, with the best possible intentions, was the worst
possible man that could have been chosen for the guardianship of two such
pupils as Lord Silchester and Leonard de Cartienne. He was a scholar and
a pedant, utterly unsuspicious and ignorant of the ways of the world,
himself so truthful and honourable that he could scarcely have imagined
deceit possible in others, and certainly not in his own wards. Of the
servants, James and his wife were the only ones in authority, and they
were the tools of de Cartienne.
The latter I could not quite understand. The only thing about him
perfectly clear was that he was just the worst companion possible for
Silchester. For the rest, he was so clever that his presence here at all
as a pupil seemed unnecessary. He appeared to be rich and he took a deep
interest of some sort in Cecil. Seemingly it was a friendly interest, but
of that I did not feel assured. At any rate, it was an injurious
association for Cecil, and I determined to do everything in my power to
counteract it.
To strike at once, to attempt to show him the folly of the courses into
which he was being led, I saw would be futile. I must have time and
opportunity. Any violent measures in such a case would be worse than
useless. My only course, obnoxious though it was, was to join them in
their pursuits and try to gain some sort of influence over Cecil, while I
kept him as far as possible from falling into further mischief.
Accordingly, on the first evening after my arrival at Borden Tower, I was
initiated into the mysteries of poker and Prussian bank, and on
subsequent occasions I either joined them or looked on. The result in the
main was pretty much as I had expected. de Cartienne won always when the
stakes were very large, and Lord Silchester when they were scarcely worth
having.
The earlier part of the day was by far the pleasanter to me. In the
morning we worked with Dr. Randall; in the afternoon we always walked or
rode--in either case, a visit to the "Rose and Crown" was an invariable
part of the programme--and in the evening, after dinner, we were supposed
to read until ten o'clock, although the manner in which we really spent
that portion of the day was far less profitable.
I had intended paying a special visit to Miss Milly Hart on my own
account; but either by accident or design--at the time I was not sure
which--de Cartienne always seemed to frustrate my plans. Even to myself I
would not acknowledge that I had any other motive save pure curiosity;
but I was still determined by some means or other to see a photograph of
the missing Mr. Hart. The strange disappearance of the one in the
sitting-room at the inn--it had never been found--puzzled me, and
whenever I caught myself thinking of the incident, it was always in
connection with Leonard de Cartienne. It seemed very absurd, when I
considered the matter calmly, but nevertheless I could not escape from
it. It haunted me, as ideas sometimes will.
One afternoon, about two months after my arrival at Borden Towers, Cecil
and I were reading together in the study--or, rather, I was endeavouring
to encourage one of his rare fits of industry by helping him through a
stiff page of Livy--when the door opened suddenly and de Cartienne
entered with an open telegram in his hand. Seeing me, he stopped short
and frowned.
"Hallo, Len! What's up?" Cecil exclaimed. "What have you got there? A
telegram?"
de Cartienne nodded and, after a moment's hesitation, handed it over.
"It's from Fothergill," he explained. "He is coming over to-night, and
wants us to dine with him."
"Should like to awfully," Cecil said, "but I don't see how we can. Old
Grumps wouldn't let us go, of course, and I don't see how we can manage
it without his knowing."
"Don't you? Well, I do," de Cartienne remarked drily. "Grumps is going
over to Belscombe this evening to take the chair at the literary society
there. He'll have to dine at six and leave at a quarter to seven. I know
that, because I heard him give his orders. That will leave us plenty of
time to get down into the town by eight o'clock; and we shall be all
right for coming back, of course."
"That's capital!" declared Cecil, shutting up his Livy with a bang. "We
will have our revenge on old Fothergill to-night. Just what I've been
looking forward to."
de Cartienne shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, I don't know," he said slowly. "I fancy. Fothergill is a bit too
good for us. I shan't be very keen on cards to-night, I can tell you. I
lost more money than I cared about last time he was here."
Cecil laughed carelessly.
"You didn't lose as much as I did," he remarked. "But, then, Fothergill
had all the luck. I never remember such a run of trumps as he held in
that last deal; and you played villainously, you know--gave him no end of
tricks."
The very faintest suspicion of a smile--an evil smile it was--trembled on
de Cartienne's lips, and he turned away towards the window as though to
hide it.
"I wasn't in very good form that night," he acknowledged. "I must make up
for it to-night, if we can get Fothergill to give us our revenge."
Cecil drummed upon the table with his fingers and raised his eyebrows
slightly.
"He can't very well refuse if we ask for it, can he?"
"I suppose not," de Cartienne answered, lounging across the room towards
the door. "I'll go and see James and let him know that we shall want the
latchkey."
"All right. And I say, Len," Cecil continued, "we must take Morton with
us, of course."
de Cartienne turned round with an angry frown upon his dark face.
"I scarcely see how that would be possible," he said stiffly. "I think it
would be taking rather a liberty with Fothergill. He only asks us two."
In other circumstances I should promptly have refused to be one of the
party, especially as the invitation appeared to come from a friend of de
Cartienne's. But the darkening shade which I had seen flash across de
Cartienne's face reawakened all my suspicions with regard to him and I
instantly determined that, by some means or other, I would go. His
evident reluctance to invite me only strengthened my intention, so,
although he looked at me as if expecting to hear me express my
indifference as to whether I went or not, I purposely refrained from
doing anything of the sort.
"Oh, that's all rot!" Cecil protested. "We can't go off and leave Morton
boxed up here by himself."
"I don't suppose Morton would care much about it," said de Cartienne
sullenly.
"On the contrary, I should enjoy it very much indeed," I interposed;
"although, of course, I don't wish to go if you think that your friend
would object," I added blandly. "It's rather dull here by oneself."
"Of course it is! Morton, old chap, you shall go with us, never fear!"
Cecil declared vigorously. "Tell you what, Len, if you won't do the
agreeable and make things right with Fothergill--as you can, if you like,
of course--I shan't go, so there! Which is it to be--both or neither?"
"Both, of course," de Cartienne answered, with as good grace as possible.
"I shouldn't have thought Morton would have cared about it, that's all.
Be ready punctually at half-past seven, you men."
"All right!" exclaimed Cecil, delighted at getting his own way for a
change. "Good old Len! Morton, pitch that beastly Livy into the drawer
and come and change your things. We'll have some fun to-night!"