LADY CORSOON'S APPEAL.
Since the tragic death of Dimsdale, Vernon had seen very little of
Maunders. Certainly--since even London is parochial in bringing the
same people in the same set constantly together--he had met him
casually at the houses of mutual acquaintances, but beyond a few
careless words, nothing had passed between them. It seemed as though
Maunders, after deciding to leave the partnership with Nemo in
abeyance, had drifted knowingly apart from his old schoolfellow.
Vernon did not care much, as he mistrusted a man who was willing to
sacrifice everything and everyone to his greed for pleasure.
Maunders reminded Vernon in many ways of Lucien de Rubempré in "Lost
Illusions." Egotism was the keynote of the real person as of the
fictitious; but where Balzac's hero drifted weakly with the tide,
Maunders struck out against it for a landing of his own choosing. As
Lucien was drawn, handsome, clever, and unscrupulous, so was Maunders
in actual life, and an insatiable love of pleasure was common to both.
Overindulgence might well wreck Mrs. Bedge's darling, as it had
wrecked the lover of Madame de Bargeton.
It was the conversation with Colonel Towton which sent Vernon in quest
of the man whom he would otherwise have avoided like poison. He wished
to learn clearly the attitude of Maunders with regard to the two
ladies he was so audaciously wooing. Much as the man loved Lucy
Corsoon--and Maunders' love in this quarter really seemed to be the
most honest part of him--he loved himself more; and it seemed
incredible to Vernon that so egotistic a person would risk losing the
world of pleasure for a genuine passion. Sir Julius Corsoon was
wealthy and Lucy was an heiress, but if she married Maunders, who was
no favourite with the baronet, her father would probably cut her off
with the proverbial shilling. It really seemed wiser for Maunders to
stick to Ida and the ten thousand a year of which she was sole
mistress. But then, if Ida had truly overcome her infatuation,
Maunders had little chance of success in that quarter. A desire to
learn the true state of affairs brought Vernon to Maunders' chambers
in Planet Street, Piccadilly, at eleven o'clock in the morning, two or
three days after that enlightening conversation with Colonel Towton.
Vernon naturally expected to find the sybarite housed like
Solomon-in-all-his-glory, and he was not disappointed. The rooms were
beautifully decorated and sumptuously furnished. No expense had been
spared to make them worthy of this fastidious young gentleman, who was
only content with the very best which civilisation could afford. He
received his friend in a delightful Pompadour apartment, airy and
bright, and gracefully frivolous. Recalling the sombre, shabby house
at Hampstead, and Mrs. Bedge's revelations regarding a diminishing
income which made her anxious to seek at her age the post of a paid
companion, Vernon could not think how Maunders managed to provide
himself with such gorgeous surroundings. He had no settled income,
and, like the lilies of the field, he neither toiled nor spun. But he
welcomed Vernon in a maroon-coloured velvet smoking-suit which must
have cost a considerable sum in Bond Street, and asked him to partake
of a delightfully tempting breakfast, set out with all the delicacies
of the season.
"Though, I daresay," said the handsome scamp in his languid, insolent
manner, "that you breakfasted at cock-crow. You were always
aggressively virtuous."
"I certainly have been up some hours," replied Vernon coldly. "While
you eat I can smoke, with your permission." He sat down and lighted a
cigarette carefully. "I have called to see you----"
"An unexpected pleasure," murmured Maunders, pouring himself out a
second cup of coffee. "Yes?"
"To ask you if you are engaged to Miss Dimsdale," finished Vernon
pointedly.
"Perhaps I am."
"In that case you will have given up all pursuit of Miss Corsoon?"
"Perhaps I have."
"Oh, hang your evasions. What do you mean?"
"I don't recognise your right to ask me questions about my affairs."
"They are mine also, confound you," snapped Vernon energetically. "I
love Miss Corsoon, and if you would leave her alone she would probably
accept me."
"What good would that do?" asked Maunders lightly; "Her mother
wouldn't."
"Would Lady Corsoon accept <I>you?</I> After all, you have nothing but your
good looks to offer the girl."
"Ah, but the girl has a fortune to offer me."
"You aren't worth it. And let me remind you that however much Miss
Corsoon may be taken up with your looks, her mother will certainly
disapprove of the match."
Maunders shrugged his shoulders. "You can't be sure of that."
"I am sure of one thing, that Sir Julius will cut his daughter off
with a shilling if she marries you."
"Now that's very clever of you, my dear boy," said Maunders
gracefully, "for Sir Julius _is_ the stumbling-block. He's a purse
with a gaping mouth, which goes about on two legs, and has no sympathy
with romance."
"Romance! Why, you don't know what it means," said Vernon scornfully.
"You want to marry money, and either Miss Corsoon or Miss Dimsdale
will serve your turn. The last is in possession of her money, whereas
the first may not inherit her expected fortune, which will certainly
be taken away from her if she marries you. Why not stick to Miss
Dimsdale?" Maunders rose and went to the window. "Because I really
love Miss Corsoon, much as you may doubt it," he said impetuously. "I
have a heart----"
"Which is for sale to the highest bidder. See here, Conny----"
"Conny?" Maunders lifted his eyebrows. "I thought you barred pet
names?"
"I am appealing, not to the man-of-the-world, but to my old
schoolfellow, if you put it in that way. See here, I love Lucy
Corsoon, and, if you would only clear out of the gangway, she would
really love me. She does--I have seen it in many ways."
"Bosh! If she really loved you she wouldn't listen to me."
"I don't know. You have good looks and a kind of magnetic power which
influences women against their will: hard women of the world, too,
much less an innocent girl such as Lucy is. It's a great power to
have, and you make bad use of it."
"Just because I happen to cross your track. Thanks."
"Oh, hang your dodging. I came here to receive a plain answer to a
plain question. Are you going to marry Miss Corsoon or Miss Dimsdale?"
"I haven't made up my mind."
"You would if Miss Dimsdale would listen to you," snarled Vernon. "If
I asked her to be my wife she would accept at once," retorted
Maunders.
"No, she wouldn't. Your aunt told me that she had lost all love for
you since the death of her father."
Maunders' face grew black. "I wish the old lady would keep her ideas
to herself," he said angrily, "for it is an idea and nothing more.
Naturally, as her father came by his death in so terrible a manner,
Ida is grieved and can't think eternally of me. All the same, she
loves me."
"I doubt that."
"On what grounds?"
"On what Mrs. Bedge said."
"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! What does my aunt know about it?" said Maunders
lightly and with superb insolence. "She's a dear old thing, but
several centuries behind the age. Ida is mine if I choose to have her,
and I would have her if my silly heart did not stand in the way."
Vernon jumped up in a royal rage. "I forbid you to make false love to
Miss Corsoon. I love her and she loves me, and it is only your
infernally magnetic personality that draws her heart away from me. If
you meant well by her, and I thought she would be happy, I would
withdraw; but you only mean to marry her for her money, which she may
never get."
"I love her, I tell you; I love her," said Maunders as violently as
Vernon had spoken, "and money or no money I shall marry her if I
choose. You have no chance. Lady Corsoon hates you."
"I don't believe it. She shows signs of yielding, and has asked me to
go to tea at her house this afternoon. If she hated me she would not
ask me in so friendly a way."
An almost imperceptible smile passed over the full lips of Maunders,
and he shrugged his shoulders. "Go to her house by all means and hear
what she has to say," he sneered. "I'll risk your visit."
Vernon was baffled by all this fencing and evasion. The man would
neither say "yea" nor "nay," and it was impossible to tell what he
intended to do. "If you will leave the field clear for me with Miss
Corsoon I will take you into partnership," he said at last,
entreatingly.
"I am not sure if I wish to be taken in," retorted Maunders
contemptuously; "it is not a respectable business."
"You are a liar! My business is perfectly respectable, and I earn my
money honestly." Vernon caught up his hat and looked round the elegant
room. "I doubt if you can say the same."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Maunders furiously.
"I mean that you haven't a sixpence, that your aunt can't allow you
much, and that you are living far beyond your means. Where do you get
the money?"
"That's my business," said Maunders coolly, "and my aunt is wealthy."
"So wealthy that she desires the post of a paid companion to Miss
Dimsdale," sneered Vernon, making for the door. "She told me so
herself, although I'm bound to say that she desires to further your
interests by inducing Miss Dimsdale to love you again."
"I can manage all that for myself," said Maunders decisively; "my aunt
has no business to interfere with my affairs."
"She brought you up, and----"
"And I am to be her slave for the rest of my life. Nonsense! All that
filial feeling is out of date," said Maunders lightly. "However, I
shall tell my aunt what I think of her talking to you in this way. As
to the rest of it, you keep out of my way, Vernon, or it will be the
worse for you."
"Ah!" Vernon faced round at the door. "Now you speak clearly. Is it to
be peace or war between us?"
"War," snapped Maunders. "You can't hurt me and----"
"War let it be," interrupted Vernon, opening the door. "Good-day," and
he walked out smartly, leaving his friend, or, rather, his enemy, now
that war had been declared, rather surprised by his abrupt departure.
But when the door closed Maunders' face grew black and his brow
wrinkled.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have driven Arty to such a declaration," murmured
the young man thoughtfully. "He's a fool, but a clever fool. After
all, although I love Lucy it will be better for me to marry Ida since
she has the money. I wonder how Aunt Emily found out about Ida's
change towards me? It can't last, however, if I only take trouble to
see her often enough. It's Lucy who holds me back. I'm a fool, as I
know that Lucy doesn't care for me as she does for Arty. I wish I
hadn't fought him now; but he can't harm me, he can't." Maunders
glanced round the luxurious room. "He shan't. There's too much to
lose. Damn him, I'll fight him and beat him. There!"
While Maunders was coming to this conclusion Vernon was walking
swiftly along Piccadilly, in the direction of Covent Garden, as he
intended to go to the office wherein he carried on business as Nemo.
Now that Maunders had openly declared himself as an enemy the
situation was somewhat adjusted, and Vernon felt that he could deal
with it. He made up his mind to tackle Lady Corsoon that very day and
ask if he might be permitted to pay attentions to Lucy. Then in an
interview with the girl herself he might manage to brush aside this
semi-hypnotic influence which Maunders' fascinating personality seemed
to exercise over her. If he could only get the mother on his side all
would be well. Lady Corsoon did not know that he was Nemo, which was
just as well; but she did not know also that he had expectations from
a bachelor uncle who could leave him a title and a fortune of three
thousand a year. If this were set before her she might be induced to
welcome him as a suitor, although both Sir Julius and Lady Corsoon
were said to desire nothing less than a duke for their only child. But
if this was the case, Vernon wondered why the lady tolerated Maunders,
who was poor and without position. However, when he called that
afternoon he might be able to learn the reason. At all events, his
expectations, against Maunders' mere good looks, would probably carry
the day.
At the office a surprise awaited him. His clerk, a dry-as-dust, lean
old fellow, as silent and wise-looking as an owl, met him in the outer
room with a mysterious face and informed him that a lady had been
waiting an hour for the appearance of Nemo. She had refused to give
any name, and had declared her intention of remaining until she saw
the detective. Vernon, in his business capacity, was used to people
who came and went without giving names, as their business was
generally shady, so he did not pay much attention to the matter.
Hanging up his coat and hat and laying aside his gloves and cane, he
passed into the inner room. Then he received the surprise aforesaid.
His client was none other than Lady Corsoon herself.
She arose, perfectly self-possessed, and did not appear to be
surprised to see the young man. "How are you, Mr. Vernon?" she asked,
holding out a gracious hand, "or perhaps I should call you Nemo
here--Mr. Nemo."
Vernon, violently red and inwardly greatly upset by this recognition,
accepted the gloved hand timidly. "How did you find out that I----"
"Oh, your enemy told me," finished Lady Corsoon, sitting down.
"My enemy?" stammered the unfortunate man nervously.
"Mr. Constantine Maunders, who----"
Vernon interrupted her and struck a hard blow on the table. His eyes
flashed dangerously. "Then, in spite of his promise, he told you what
I so much desired to keep secret?"
"Yes," said Lady Corsoon drily. "It was his desire to put me against
you, so that he could philander with my daughter. But his shot failed
to hit the mark. I was delighted to hear that you were Nemo; I have
heard something of Nemo's doings and cleverness, and so the
information brought me here, as you see."
"To forbid me your house?"
"I asked you to afternoon tea to-day, and that invitation was issued
after your enemy betrayed you. Sit down, Mr. Nemo, and become
business-like. We have much to talk about."
Considerably surprised by this attitude, Vernon sank into his chair
before the desk and stared at Lady Corsoon in the dim light which
filtered through the dingy window of the room. She was well worth
looking at, in spite of her age, as her dress was perfect and her
looks still displayed the remains of considerable beauty. She was
somewhat stout, it is true, but her complexion--whether due to art or
nature--was that of a young girl, and her sparkling brown eyes
revealed an intellect of no mean order. A clever woman was Lady
Corsoon, within limitations, and she would have been even more a power
in the fashionable world than she was had she not been so dominated by
the powerful personality of her husband. Sir Julius was of long
descent, but in his youth of ruined fortunes, owing to a spendthrift
father. Being an inborn financier, however, he had built up an
Aladdin's palace of gold on the ruins, and was extremely wealthy. Yet
he had the heart of a miser, and allowed his wife and daughter only
sufficient to keep up their position with care and difficulty. This
mean behaviour explains the reason of Lady Corsoon's visit to Vernon
in his _avatar_ of Nemo, as he speedily understood. But as yet he had
not overcome his surprise at thus finding his mask torn off.
"Come! Come!" said Lady Corsoon, tapping his arm with her sunshade. "I
have come to see a business man and not a dreamer. Wake up, Mr. Nemo."
Vernon winced on hearing her pronounce his trade name. "I am at your
service," he said in a low voice.
"And in my hands," rejoined Lady Corsoon briskly. "What would the
world say if it knew that Arthur Vernon was a private inquiry agent,
making his money out of people's secrets?"
"You take me for The Spider, apparently," said Vernon with spirit, and
anxious, through pride, to repel the odious accusation. "I make money
by helping people to keep their secrets, not by betraying them. I am
on the side of the law, not of the criminal. Upon my word, I can't see
that a man who carries on an honest business to preserve secrets and
to save unfortunate people from blackmail is worse than--if indeed as
bad as--a City rogue who trades unscrupulously on people's weakness
for gambling."
Lady Corsoon changed colour at the last words, and evidently was about
to make a remark thereon. However, she checked herself sharply and
replied with feigned carelessness, "Very well argued, Mr. Vernon. But
people are prejudiced against those who seek to know secrets."
"Because everyone has a turned-down page in his or her Book of Life,"
cried the young man. "I--in my business--prevent that page being read
by those who wish to be paid for the reading. I don't want my business
known, but I am not ashamed of it."
"Why did you take it up?
"Because my father lost all his money, and I had scarcely enough to
live upon," retorted the young man quickly and proudly.
"You have expectations?"
Vernon started. "How do you know that?" he demanded sharply. Lady
Corsoon tapped his arm again. "In my own way I have been doing a
little detective business. You were so persistent in following Lucy
from house to house, and so decidedly refused to receive my 'No' for
her answer, that I made inquiries to see why you could have the
courage to offer a young girl a ruined fortune. I learned, indeed,
that you were ruined by your father, but I learned also that Sir
Edward Vernon, of Slimthorp, in Worcestershire, is your uncle. He has
a good income and no wife and is eighty years of age. The chances are
that you will succeed him."
"He cannot keep me out of the title," said Vernon bitterly, "but you
should have gained more information, Lady Corsoon. My uncle hated my
father because my father married the woman he loved, and he hates me
because I am the son of that woman. I do not hope to inherit the
money, and what is a title without money? I did not explain what you
have discovered, else I should have done so, since it seemed useless
to put forward all that as a plea for an engagement to your daughter."
"My dear man, a title is better than nothing. You are too modest.
Besides, Lucy will have plenty of money."
"I know, if she marries as you and her father wish. But I hear,"
Vernon smiled bitterly, "that you want a duke."
"I want an honest man, upon whom I can depend," said Lady Corsoon with
energy, "and for that reason I have come to see you."
"In spite of the fact that I am Nemo?"
"For the very reason that you are Nemo," she retorted with a lightning
glance. "My dear boy, Mr. Maunders thought to do you a bad turn by
telling me of your secret business, and thought that I would certainly
forbid you my house and finally end your dangling after my daughter.
As it is, he has done you a good turn, as you are the man I want."
"For Lucy?"
"And for myself. If you can carry out safely the business I have come
to see you about I shall encourage your addresses to Lucy, and, so far
as I can influence so iron-natured a man, I shall win Sir Julius to
your side. Come, is it a bargain?"
"Oh," Vernon caught her hand joyfully, "of course it is; I never
dreamed of such happiness. But now I know why Maunders smiled when I
told him that I was due at your house this afternoon."
"When did you see him?"
"Immediately before I came here. I went to ask whether he wished to
marry Miss Corsoon or Miss Dimsdale, but he refused to say. But he
smiled--ah! he thought that, having told you I was Nemo, you intended
to dismiss me for ever from your house when I called this afternoon."
"I daresay, but he will learn that instead of enemies we are friends,
and that instead of his marrying Lucy, you shall. It is just as well,"
added Lady Corsoon quietly, "as she loves you, although she is more or
less fascinated by that--that--that gentleman, shall we say?"
"But you are fascinated yourself, Lady Corsoon, else you would
scarcely have tolerated a penniless man dangling after your daughter."
"I tolerated it, as you say, because Mr. Maunders knows my secret."
"Your secret?" In a flash Vernon recalled the conversation with the
young man under the peristyle, in which Maunders had hinted that he
knew something which would enable him to manage Lady Corsoon.
"What is your secret?"
"I have come to tell you, so don't interrupt until I have finished,"
said Lady Corsoon coolly. "I come to you because I know in a hundred
ways that you are, what Mr. Maunders is not, an honest gentleman, and
also the private detective that I need. I have one great vice, Mr.
Vernon, I am a gambler, and for the last two years I have lost a heap
of money at bridge. To pay my debts, since Sir Julius kept me always
very short of money, I pawned certain family jewels. If Sir Julius
finds that out he is capable of causing a scandal by forcing a
separation. For Lucy's sake, as well as for my own, I don't want such
a thing to take place."
"But how can he find out?"
Lady Corsoon fished in a green and gold bag which was slung on her arm
and produced an elegant sheet of writing paper. "Read that," she said
quietly.
Vernon started, and suppressed a cry. At the foot of the writing he
saw a purple spider impressed clearly--the well-known sign manual of
the scoundrel who had murdered Mr. Dimsdale. Glancing his eyes over
the pages, he read that The Spider had learned about the pawning of
certain family jewels and, moreover, had managed, by forged tickets,
to get the same into his possession. He was willing to sell them back
for two thousand pounds, to be paid in gold on a certain date and at a
certain place, to be arranged when he received Lady Corsoon's reply.
The reply was to be put in the agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_,
when further arrangements would be made for the payment of the sum and
the handing over of the jewels. Failing consent, The Spider intended
to apply to Sir Julius and to reveal Lady Corsoon's gambling
propensities. The whole of this precious epistle, written very
elegantly, ended with the ideograph of the purple spider.
"What do you think of it?" asked Lady Corsoon when Vernon finished
reading.
"What can I think of it, but that the man is a blackguard. You want me
to deal with this?"
"Yes. I can't pay the two thousand pounds, as I have not got it. My
husband keeps me very short. You see that I am candid; but then I
trust you, as I doubt Mr. Maunders."
"Why do you doubt him?" asked Vernon suddenly. "Because he followed me
one day to a pawnshop and learned my secret. Not in so many words, but
by unmistakable hints he gave me to understand that my open house to
him and my encouraging of his love for Lucy was the price of his
silence. Things have gone from bad to worse, and I feel that I am
under his thumb, until the jewels are got back again and all proof of
my madness is destroyed. I am keeping a brave face, Mr. Vernon, but I
am truly in despair. Sir Julius is a hard man, and the revelation of
what I have done means disgrace. My husband will not spare me."
"For his daughter's sake?"
"No. He would remove Lucy from my care and cast me off with a small
income to live on. He can't get a divorce, but he will insist upon a
separation, as I feel certain. You alone can save me, and, if you can,
I agree to your marriage with my daughter. Oh," she cried, struck by a
strange look in Vernon's eyes, "don't think I am selling Lucy to you.
But she loves you, and now that I know you will some day have a title,
the money doesn't matter, as Sir Julius may be persuaded into
accepting you as his son-in-law. At all events, if you will be my
friend I shall be yours. Is it a bargain?"
"Yes," said Vernon, gripping the hand she held out; "for more reasons
than this one do I wish to track this blackmailing beast to his lair.
Agree, by a line in the _Daily Telegraph_, to pay the money in a
month. That will give me time to turn round."
Lady Corsoon drew a long breath of relief. "Thank God I came to you.
As for Mr. Maunders, I really believe----" She hesitated.
"What?" asked Vernon looking up quickly.
"That he is The Spider himself."