Two years slipped rapidly away, and society rolled on as usual. Many
events had taken place, some of which had had their special interest to
the characters in this story.
Ruth was thinner than of old, but she looked bright and happy, for the
past two years had been very peaceful. She had paid occasional visits
to Hampton Court, but Lord Henry's house seemed to be definitely her
home, and the old man always treated her as if she were his child.
In the course of time various matrimonial speculations were set on foot
at Hampton Court to provide Ruth with a rich husband; but as in each
case the proposition of her joining a dinner-party where either a
wealthy plebeian or an elderly titled _roue_ was to be the honoured
guest, was crushed emphatically by Lady Henry Moorpark, who was firm in
the extreme, the ladies by degrees gave Ruth's over as a hopeless case,
leaving her to the tender mercies of her cousin.
In fact, as she was off the honourable sisters' hands, and their
expenses were lessened, Ruth's name was not often mentioned except
during Mr Paul Montaigne's periodical calls, when, after walking across
from Teddington, that gentleman would sip their tea and sigh, as he
blandly alluded to the ingratitude of the world, and the fact that the
servants at Lord Henry's had been instructed to say "not at home"
whenever he called.
Often and often bland Mr Paul Montaigne would gnash his teeth when
alone, and vow vengeance, but somehow Marcus Glen's threat had had so
great an influence upon him that the thought thereof would make him pale
and nervous for twenty-four hours after, and quite spoil his night's
repose. But he heard merely with a grim smile that Captain Glen had
become a constant visitor at Lord Henry Moorpark's, and that his
lordship gave Ruth Allerton away upon a certain happy day, for it is a
world of change, and the time had come when Ruth's cousin could think
quite calmly of the past.
The calm was not without its disturbance, though, for as Lord Henry sat
one evening sipping his port and wondering whether he might not now go
up and join the ladies, he heard a carriage stop at the door; there was
a thunderous knock, a terrific peal at the bell, and directly after the
old butler entered.
"Mr Elbraham, my lord. I have shown him into the library."
"Hang Mr Elbraham!" said his lordship to himself; but feeling that the
visit must be one of importance, seeing how little intercourse they had,
he followed the butler into the library, where the financier was walking
hastily up and down. "Ha, Elbraham!" he said, "come into the
dining-room. I was having my port."
"Port, eh? Ah, yes! my throat's like a limekiln;" and, following Lord
Henry into the dining-room, the butler placed fresh glasses, and the
financier gulped down a couple as quickly as he could.
"Why, it's an age since we met," said Lord Henry.
"Good job for you," said Elbraham, mopping his red face and bald head.
"Clo's a regular devil. Is she here?"
"Here!" said Lord Henry. "Oh no! she has not been here for a long
time."
"Then she _has_ bolted!"
"Has what?" cried Lord Henry.
"Bolted, Moorpark--bolted, damn her! Left a note for me saying she was
going to dine with her sister, and I took the bait, till, thinking it a
good opportunity to go and look over her jewels, hang me if they weren't
all gone!"
"Her jewels gone?"
"Yes; and that made me suspicious. I went down directly and was going
to ring, when I ran up against our buttons."
"Ran up against your buttons?" said Lord Henry wonderingly.
"Yes: the page-boy--with the large travelling-case in his hand. `Hullo,
you sir,' says I, `what have you got there?'
"`A case missus said I was to take to Cannon Street Station, sir, and
meet her there; and I've been waiting about for ever so long and
couldn't see her, sir, so I thought I'd better bring it back!'
"`Quite right, my boy,' I says. `Give it to me. There, be off down!'
"Well, sir, as soon as I was alone, I ripped up the bag, for it was
locked; and hang me if it hadn't got in all her jewels--every blessed
thing: diamonds and sapphires and rubies and emeralds and pearls;
thousands and thousands of pounds' worth, for she would go it in jewels;
and when I offended her I used to have to make it up by giving her
something new. That woman cost me a pot of money, Moorpark, 'pon my
soul she did, for I never shilly-shallied. If she was upset I always
bought her something new."
"But, really, I don't understand all this!" said Lord Henry feebly.
"Wait a bit. She had meant to take her jewels with her, and the idiot
of a boy blundered the thing, somehow, and instead of her having them I
have the whole blessed lot. For I pitched the cases in the iron safe
where I keep my papers, locked 'em up, came on here to see after her,
and there's the keys!"
He slapped his pocket, and looked at Lord Henry as he spoke.
"I never expected it," said Elbraham coolly; "it was her dodge."
"Then where do you expect she is?"
"Why, bolted, man; gone to the devil--or with the devil, that
black-looking rascal Malpas; and a deuced good job too!"
"But this is very dreadful!" said Lord Henry.
"It would have been if she had got away with all those stones," said
Elbraham, helping himself to more wine. "But she was done there. By
Jingo! what a cat-and-dog life we have led!"
"But, my dear sir!" cried Lord Henry, hardly able to conceal his
disgust; "what steps are you going to take to save her?"
"Save her? save her?" said Elbraham. "She don't want any saving."
"Oh yes, from such a terrible fall. It may not yet be too late!"
"Save her?" cried Elbraham, with a hoarse chuckle. "Why, Moorpark, you
don't know her. Keep it dark from your wife, who is a good one. You
drew the best lot. There's no saving Clo; she's bad to the core, and
I'm devilish glad she's gone, for I shall get a little peace now."
"But you are going to pursue her?" said Lord Henry.
"Pursue her! What for? To have her scratch my eyes out, and that black
scoundrel Malpas punch my head? No, thankye--deuced good port this!
She's gone, and jolly go with her! I wash my hands of her now."
"But this is terrible, Elbraham."
"Terrible? Why, it's bliss to me; she'd have killed me. I used to be a
bit jealous at first; but I had to get over that, for she was always
flirting with someone."
"But you must fetch her back, Elbraham!" exclaimed Lord Henry excitedly.
"Think of the family credit!"
"Family credit!" cried Elbraham. "Why, they hadn't got none--poor as
Job, and nobody would trust them."
"The family honour, then, sir," said Lord Henry sternly.
"Family honour's best without her. Jolly good riddance of bad rubbish,
I say! She's gone, and she won't come back; and as for hunting for her,
why, it would be disgracing your wife to do so."
"But really--" began Lord Henry.
"Bah! Moorpark, you leave that to me; I'm a business man, and know
what's what. But, I say, it's a lark, isn't it?"
"I don't understand you," said Lord Henry, who could not conceal his
disgust for the contemptible little wretch before him.
"Why, about those jewels. My! how fine and mad she'll be! It's about
the best thing I ever knew. She won't get 'em now."
Elbraham laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and then he wiped
his eyes.
"I say, Moorpark, I ought to be devilishly cut up, you know, about this;
but the fact is, I'm devilish glad. I shall look nasty and make a show
about being all wrong, you know, for one's credit's sake; but it ain't
my fault. I couldn't help it; she had it all her own way. And the
money she has spent--my!"
Elbraham helped himself to some more port, while Lord Henry sat and
tapped the table with his carefully cared-for nails.
"I'm not going to cry over spilt milk, Moorpark, I can tell you! She's
gone, and, as I said before, a good riddance!"
It was a good riddance for Lord Henry Moorpark when Elbraham went, which
he did at last, after stubbornly refusing either to take or to allow any
steps to be taken in pursuit of Clotilde.
"No," he said, after his sixth glass of port. "I won't spend the price
of a Parl'y ticket on her; and I don't know as I shall bother myself
about divorce proceedings. What's the good? Malpas hasn't a penny in
the world, so there'd be no costs; and as to being free, that's what her
ladyship would like. But, I say, Moorpark."
"Yes?"
"What a sell about those jewels!"
He said it again as Lord Henry saw him into his carriage, and the next
day he settled himself down in his sanctum with a very big cigar stuck
between his lips, giving him the aspect of a very podgy swordfish that
had burnt the tip of its weapon. Before him was a huge leather
bill-case gorged with slips of bluish paper, every one of which, as he
took it carefully out, bore a stamp in one corner, a reference to so
many months after date, and was written across and signed. Many of them
were endorsed with sign-manuals as well; and these slips of paper he
quietly examined as he took them out of one pocket of the great case and
then thrust them into another.
By degrees an observer, had he been present, would have noticed that the
pockets in which these slips were placed varied according to their
dates, and that for the most part they were examined and replaced in the
most unemotional manner; but every now and then as Elbraham took one out
he laid it on the table, drew violently at his cigar, emitted a
tremendous cloud of smoke, and burst into a hoarse series of chuckles.
Then he rubbed his hands and laughed again in an unpleasant, silent
manner, twisting about in his pivoted library chair.
As he spun round, which, evidently being the result of practice, he did
very cleverly, he wrinkled his face up in a way that with him indicated
pleasure, the whole performance giving him the aspect of some gigantic
grotesque Japanese top.
Then he would stop short, puff at the great cigar, and stare with his
prominent lobster eyes at the slip of paper, examining the date and
turning it over and over.
"Old cat!" he ejaculated; and the slip of paper was laid aside, and a
heavy paperweight banged down upon it.
There were half a dozen of these heavy paperweights, and every now and
then one was lifted and a fresh slip of paper placed beneath it.
"Old cat!" he exclaimed again. Then there was another chuckle. "Let's
have another dive in the lucky bag!" he exclaimed, and a fresh slip was
brought out.
He did not laugh now, but glowered at the paper savagely.
"Only wait; I'll make him curl his black moustache to a pretty tune this
time! He'll have to sell out, and what will he do then? I wonder what
a Major's commission will fetch. Oh, hang it! they don't sell 'em now.
What the deuce do they do? I don't care; I'll ruin the beast, and then
he may go to Clo to comfort him."
He did not spin round this time as he did when he came upon slips of
paper bearing the signature of Lady Littletown, and of which he now had
a tiny heap, but sat glancing at the bold, striking autograph evidently
written with a soft quill pen, and resembling a pair of thin Siamese
twins with their heads together, and the word "Malpas" after them, the
said twins evidently doing duty for the letter A.
"Curse him! I'll ruin him, and then she'll cut him like a shot. Doosid
glad I got the jewels! Bet sixpence he made sure of them, and now he's
got her without a fifty pound in her pocket."
Elbraham sat glaring at the bill, the big signature seeming to fascinate
him, and for the moment it was so suggestive of the swarthy Major that
unconsciously he took up an ivory-handled penknife, and, holding it
dagger fashion, began to stab the paper through and through.
The holes reminded him that the slip of paper was valuable, so he threw
the penknife aside with an oath, smoothed the bill, and, laying it by
itself, he thumped a heavy paperweight upon it, and seemed in his act as
if he meant to crush Major Malpas as flat.
Several more acceptances followed, all representing heavy sums of money;
but they had no special interest for the financier, who went steadily on
till, in succession, he found half a dozen accepted by one John Huish,
and over these he frowned and snarled.
"Repudiated 'em all," he said--"swore he never accepted one; and his
lawyer set me at defiance. But I'll keep 'em. He'll buy 'em some day
to keep the affair quiet. Rum start that! I could not have told
t'other from which, if it hadn't been for the voice."
He replaced these in his pocket-book, and at last came upon five
accepted by Arthur Litton, the effect being to make Elbraham roar with
laughter.
"Puppy!" he exclaimed, bringing his fist down bang upon the slips of
paper, "puppy! Fine gentleman. Haughty aristocrat. My dear Arthur,
what a fix you are in, and how this will diminish dear Anna Maria's
money!"
"Here's another, and there are more to come!" he cried, roaring with
laughter; and then he had a spin till he felt giddy, after which he spun
back in the other direction to counteract the dizziness, chuckled,
rubbed his hands, found his cigar was out, and paused to light it before
going through a less heavy batch of bills, the result being that he had
beneath these paperweights a goodly show of the acceptances of Lady
Littletown, Major Malpas, and Arthur Litton, over which he sat and
gloated, smoking the while.
"What a beautiful thing a bill is!" exclaimed Elbraham at last. "It's a
blessing to an honest man: helps him out of his difficulties; gives such
a nice discount to the holder; and shows him how to punish wicked people
like these."
He had another chuckle and a spin here, his feelings carrying him away
to such an extent that he rather over-spun himself, and felt so giddy
that he had to refresh himself from a silver flask that he kept in a
drawer.
"How I shall come down upon 'em!" he said at last, as he puffed away
reflectively at his cigar, which now grew rather short. "A thousand of
bricks is nothing to it. My dear Lady Littletown will go down upon her
knees to me, and ask me to dinner. Ha! ha! ha! she'll want to find me
another wife, perhaps, curse her! What a bad lot they are! I only wish
I'd a few bills of the old cats' at the private apartments--our dear
aunts."
He seemed to reflect here.
"I don't think Marie's a bad sort, after all," he said at last. "Old
Moorpark had a deal the best of the bargain. I haven't anything to say
against them: they cut Clo long enough ago, and quite right too. She's
a devil! What that gal has cost me!"
There was another fit of reflection here, during which Mr Elbraham
threw the end of his cigar into the waste-paper basket, and lit another,
longer and stouter than the last, after taking a band of white and gold
paper from around its middle.
"Then there's Master Arthur Litton," he said. "Pitched me over as soon
as he'd married his rich wife. Called me an Israelitish humbug. Yes,
conceited fool. Forgot all about his paper, and how I had helped him.
Regularly cut me dead. Nice bit of money he had with Lady Anna Maria
Morton, but he has made it fly, and all he could finger has gone. Wait
a bit! I'll have him on his knees. He'll talk about Shylock then, eh?
Only wait! I'll have something better than a pound of flesh."
He chuckled and smoked for some minutes, and then the smoke began to
come in longer puffs, the lines marked by his triumph and mirth
disappeared, and he glared and rolled his unpleasantly prominent eyes.
"Curse him!" he cried at length hoarsely. "He hasn't a clear hundred to
bless himself with, and I hold his paper for thousands. I believe it
was with my money he carried off Clo. Well, let him have her. I've had
enough of the wicked devil. Let him have her. Ha! ha! ha! My grand
Major Malpas in the sheriffs hands, and Clo in lodgings without a penny!
I needn't want to trouble myself any more."
The picture he mentally drew was so satisfactory that he indulged in
another hoarse hollow laugh that was ugly upon the ear.
Then he carefully gathered together the three little batches of bills
and secured each lot with an elastic band, before placing them in the
pocket-book he carried in his breast, buttoned them up tightly, as if
they were the greatest treasures he possessed, and ended by locking up
the bulky case.
"Ha!" he said, rising, "I'm sorry for poor Major Malpas. I wonder
whether that chap Glen will get the step up. What a lovely invention a
piece of paper is!"
Volume 3, Chapter XIX.