message from Barclay--I will keep the appointment to-morrow. 3.X.Q.
switching off."
Why did Barclay wish to see him so urgently? Perhaps the urgency had
not occurred until the post-office had closed, hence he had been unable
to send a telegram. And at the Rectory there was no telephone, save
that splendidly equipped radio-phone.
Little did Roddy Homfray suspect that Mr Purcell Sandys was faced with
ruin, that Elma knew of the impending disaster, and that there was a
reason--a very clear and distinct reason--why she and her father were
neither of them "at home" when he had called.
Black ruin had fallen upon the great financial house of Sandys and
Hornton, a fact of which, though Roddy was in ignorance, Gordon Gray,
alias Rex Rutherford, and his accomplices were well aware, and were
about to turn to their own advantage.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
RUTHERFORD MAKES A PROPOSITION.
On that evening when Roddy was told that neither Mr Sandys nor Elma was
at home both father and daughter were, as a matter of fact, seated
together in the library. Mr Sandys had by that time been able to
ascertain pretty nearly the extent of his firm's liabilities, and was in
complete despair.
Elma was kneeling beside her father with her arm lovingly around his
neck, nobly trying to comfort him.
She had confessed her affection for Roddy, and had spoken of the young
man's high hopes and aspirations, and shown her father a hasty letter
she had received from him announcing the fact that the concession for
emerald mining had actually been granted to him by the Moorish Minister,
Mohammed ben Mussa.
A new thought arose in Mr Sandys' mind. If Roddy had really been
granted the concession for the mines known to exist there--and he had
made some searching inquiries during the past week or so--then by
dealing with it he might, after all, be able to raise sufficient money
to discharge part of the immense liabilities of the firm, and thus stem
the tide which must otherwise rise in the course of the next few days
and overwhelm him.
Elma's father spoke quite openly concerning the situation.
"In that case Roddy could marry me, dad," she said. "And further, even
if he had no concession, I am poor enough now to marry a poor man," she
added.
"Yes, my child," was his reply. "If what young Homfray says is true
then he can be the saviour of our firm and of our family. I confess I
have taken a great liking to the young fellow. I have liked him all
along."
Then Elma flung herself into her father's arms and kissed him again and
again, with tears of joy. Strangely enough her father's ruin had
brought about her own happiness.
It was at that moment when the footman entered, and said:
"Mr Homfray has called, sir, and I told him that you were not at home,
as you ordered."
Elma looked at her father dismayed.
"Has he gone?" she gasped, her face falling.
"Yes, miss. He called about five minutes ago."
And then the man bowed and retired, while the girl, turning to her
father, remarked:
"How very unfortunate, dad! I wanted to tell him the good news. But
now it must wait until to-morrow. Good-night, dad. Cheer up now, won't
you, dearest? This is a black cloud, but it will pass, as all clouds
pass sooner or later, and the sun shines out again." And kissing him
the girl ran off joyously to her own room.
Roddy rose early, as was his wont, and went into his wireless-room, as
was his habit each morning to listen to the transatlantic messages, and
those from Moscow, Nantes and the rest. His eye rested upon the
sensitive little set in the cigar-box, and it occurred to him to test it
that day as a portable set in the train and elsewhere.
His train arrived at Guildford from Haslemere soon after ten o'clock,
therefore he left the station, and climbing the old disused coach-road
known as the Mount, reached the long range of hills called the Hog's
Back. There, upon the wide grass-grown road which has not been used for
nearly a century, he threw up his aerial wire into a high elm and
placing in position his ground wire soldered to a long steel skewer he
put on the telephones, holding the box in his left hand while he turned
the condensers with his right.
At once he heard the voice of the radio-telephone operator at Croydon,
the shrewd, alert expert with the rolling r's, calling Le Bourget.
Signals were excellent. He listened for ten minutes or so and then,
drawing down his temporary aerial and withdrawing the skewer from the
wet earth, put the cigar-box into the pocket of his raincoat and
descended the hill to the station.
Upon the platform he awaited the incoming train from Waterloo, and was
determined to be at home at five o'clock to meet Edna Manners. The
train arrived but without Barclay, so he strolled out into the yard to
await the next.
In the meantime, however, another striking incident was happening at
Park Lane.
Old Hughes, summoned to the door, opened it to the smiling, well-dressed
Mr Rex Rutherford.
"Will you tell Mr Sandys I'm here. And apologise for my early call. I
have come on rather pressing business," he said briskly.
"Very well, sir," replied Lord Farncombe's old butler rather stiffly,
taking his hat and umbrella, and asking him into the library.
A couple of minutes later the bearded old financier entered with
outstretched hand, and smiling.
"I really must apologise, Mr Sandys," Rutherford said. "It's awfully
early, I know, but between business men the hour, early or late, doesn't
really count--does it? At least, we say so in New York."
"I agree," said Mr Sandys with a smile, and then when both were seated,
Rutherford said:
"I've come to you, Mr Sandys, with a very important proposition--one in
which you will at once see big money--the concession for some ancient
emerald mines in Morocco."
"Do you mean the Wad Sus mines?" asked Sandys, much surprised.
"Yes. I have arranged with my friend, His Excellency Mohammed ben
Mussa, the Moorish Minister of the Interior, for a concession in
perpetuity over the whole region, subject to a payment on results to His
Majesty the Sultan."
"I really don't understand you," exclaimed Elma's father, looking
straight in his face. "A concession has already been granted to a young
man of my acquaintance, Mr Homfray."
"Not of the same mines--ancient ones, from which one big dark-coloured
emerald has quite recently been taken? That can't be?"
"But it is."
"Have you seen this concession given to your friend, Mr Homfray? I
don't know who he is, but I fear it is not worth the paper it is written
upon, because here I have a concession which revokes all previous ones,
and which will make it penal for anyone who attempts to trespass as a
prospector in any part of the Wad Sus region! Here it is! Look for
yourself," he said, taking the sealed document from his pocket and
handing it to the astonished financier. "Of course," he added, "if the
affair is too small for your attention, Mr Sandys, I can easily
negotiate it elsewhere. But as we are friends, I thought I would let
you have its refusal."
Purcell Sandys was utterly staggered. He knew French well, and at a
glance he convinced himself that the document was genuine.
"And not only have we the concession, but here also is a plan of the
exact situation of the mines, together with a statement from one of the
Touareg tribesmen, Ben Chaib Benuis, with its French translation. The
man, a trusted messenger of the Moorish Government, has quite recently
been upon the spot, and has brought back a very large and valuable
emerald which is in the possession of an ex-Moorish official at Tangier,
and can be seen any day."
Mr Sandys scanned the French translation and sat back in wonder.
It was quite evident that the concession granted to young Homfray--if
there had ever been one--was worthless, for there was the sealed
document dated only a few days before which rescinded every other grant
made by the Moorish Government.
"I, of course, know nothing of your friend Mr Homfray," remarked
Rutherford. "But I fear that if he attempts to prospect in the Wad Sus
he will be at once arrested. I alone hold the only concession in that
district," and slowly picking up both the formidable-looking documents,
he carefully refolded them and replaced them in his pocket.
"Well, Mr Rutherford," said the pale, thoughtful old financier at last.
"I confess I am very much puzzled, and before entering upon this affair
as a matter of business I would first like to look into young Homfray's
claims."
"Very naturally," laughed the easy-going Rutherford. "I should do so
myself in the circumstances. I fear, however, that the young man,
whoever he is, has somewhat misled you. I'll look in and see you
to-morrow morning--about this time--eh?" he added as he rose and left,
while Mr Sandys sat speechless and puzzled.
When Rutherford had gone he called Elma and told her of his visit.
"What? That man here again?" cried the girl. "He can't have any valid
concession. Roddy has it. He would never write a lie to _me_!"
"My child, we can do nothing until we see and question young Homfray."
"You are right, dad. I'll try at once to get hold of him. He is
probably at Farncombe. I'll telephone to the Towers and tell Bowyer to
go to the Rectory at once."
This she did, but half an hour later the reply came back. The maid
Bowyer had been to the Rectory, but Mr Homfray was out and would not
return till five o'clock. She had left a message from Elma asking him
to go to London at once.
At five o'clock Mrs Bentley at the Rectory opened the door to Edna
Manners, but Roddy had not returned. For an hour she waited, idling
most of the time in the garden. Then at last she asked leave to write
him a note, which she did in the dead rector's study, and then
reluctantly left.
The evening passed until at half-past nine a man from the Towers called
to ask again for Roddy, but Mrs Bentley repeated that her young master
had gone out that morning and had not yet returned. This report was
later repeated to Elma over the telephone from the Towers to Park Lane.
Meanwhile Mr Sandys telegraphed to the Minister Mohammed ben Mussa in
Tangier, asking for confirmation of Mr Rutherford's concession, and
just before midnight came a reply that the concession had been granted
to Mr Rex Rutherford.
Elma's father showed her the reply. All Roddy's assertions were false!
All her hopes were crushed. She burst into tears and fled to her room.
Mr Sandys, left alone, faced the situation calmly. The only way to
stave off ruin would be to deal with Rutherford.
Meanwhile the master criminal was playing a clever double game.
When he called next morning he asked to see Elma, pleading that he had
something very important to say to her. When Hughes brought the message
she was at first reluctant to accede to his wish, but in a few moments
she steeled herself and walked to the morning-room into which he had
been shown.
As usual, he was smartly-groomed and the essence of politeness. As he
took her hand, he said:
"Miss Elma, I want to tell you that I sympathise very much with your
father in his great misfortune, the secret of which I happen to know--
though as yet the world suspects nothing. But I fear it soon will,
unless your father can come forward with some big and lucrative scheme.
I have it in my power to help him with the mining concession in Morocco.
I will do so on one condition."
"And what is that, Mr Rutherford?" she asked quite calmly.
He looked straight into her big, wide-open eyes and, after a second's
pause, replied:
"That I may be permitted to pay my attentions to you--for I confess that
I love you."
The girl's cheeks coloured slightly and the expression in her eyes
altered.
"That cannot be," she said. "I am already engaged."
"To that young fellow Homfray, I believe?" he laughed. "Has he not
already misled you and your father into believing that he is a rich man,
inasmuch that he pretends to have been granted some worthless concession
also in Morocco? Surely such a man is not suited to you as a husband,
Miss Elma? Could you ever trust him?"
"I will not have Mr Homfray's character besmirched in my presence, Mr
Rutherford," she said haughtily. "And if this is the matter upon which
you wished to speak with me I should prefer that you said nothing
further."
"Elma! I love you!" he cried, with openly sensual admiration.
The girl was horrified and revolted. She told him so, but he treated
with a conqueror's contempt her frightened attempts to evade him. She
was to be his toy, his plaything--or he would not lift a finger to save
her father.
On her part she pleaded her love for Roddy, but he told her brutally
that the young fellow was a liar. Why had he not produced the
concession he alleged he had?
A last Elma, compelled to listen to his specious arguments, almost gave
up hope, but before leaving the room she declared that she would starve
rather than marry him. And then she closed the door after her.
Ten minutes later Rutherford was shown into the library, and in his most
oleaginous manner greeted the ruined financier.
"I have called to keep my appointment, Mr Sandys," he said. "But since
I saw you circumstances have altered somewhat, which makes it incumbent
upon me to place the concession elsewhere."
"Why?" asked Sandys, his face falling. "Well, it is a private matter.
I--I really don't care to discuss it, Mr Sandys. Indeed, I think it is
best for me to say that our negotiations must conclude here, even though
I regret it very deeply. It is not my fault, but the--well, the
barrier--lies in another direction."
"In what direction?" asked the grey-bearded man who had been clutching
at the straw offered him on the previous day.
"Well--if you ask Miss Elma, your daughter, she will explain."
"My daughter? What has she to do with our propositions?"
"I simply repeat my reply, Mr Sandys. I can't say more. To tell the
truth, I don't feel capable. I must go now. If you want to see me
later you know my telephone number."
And taking his hat, he stalked out of the fine library, well knowing
himself to be the conqueror. To those who are patient and painstaking
the fruits of the world will arrive. But there are exceptions, even
though the devil controls his own.
When Elma's father sought her he found her in a paroxysm of tears and
tried to comfort her. She had thrown herself on a couch at the foot of
her bed and was sobbing out her heart.
The ruined man told his daughter of Rutherford's visit, and asked her
for the explanation which he had said that she alone could give.
In a few halting sentences she related what had happened.
For some time the old man remained silent, standing at the great window
past which the motor-'buses were passing up and down London's street of
the wealthy.
"Ah! my dear!" he sighed. "I am sorry that you have so unfortunately
fallen in love with young Homfray. At first I liked him, I confess.
But he seems to have sadly misled you, and is now afraid to face the
truth."
"I agree, father. But I love him. There is some explanation, I feel
sure."
"There can be none regarding the emerald concession. Rutherford has it,
as well as the plan showing the whereabouts of the mine. I could float
a big company to-morrow, even upon the concession and the official plan
furnished by the Moorish Minister of the Interior. But he has, alas!
now withdrawn his offer."
"Because I have refused him," said Elma bitterly. "I love Roddy. How
could I possibly become that man's wife?"
Her father drew a long breath and shrugged his shoulders. He stood with
his back towards her, looking idly out upon the traffic in Park Lane and
the Park beyond.
"Yes, darling," he said at last. "But you must not sacrifice yourself
for me. It would be grossly unfair. I am ruined through no fault of my
own, I trust--ruined by a gambling partner who cared for nothing save
his obsession with regard to games of chance. Let us say no more about
it. Rutherford may take his concession elsewhere, and I will face the
music. I have my comfort in my Yogi teaching--in those two words `I
am.' I have done my best in life, and to my knowledge have never
injured anyone. I have tried to act up to my Yogi teachers, with their
magnificent philosophy of the East. Therefore I will face disaster
unflinchingly."
And seeing his daughter in tears, his further words were choked by
emotion. He merely patted her upon the shoulder and, unable to bear the
interview longer, withdrew.
For a fortnight past Rex Rutherford, like many crooks of his calibre,
had actually engaged a "Press agent"--one of those parasites who fasten
themselves upon the ambitious and put forward lies and photographs to
the Press at so many guineas a time. The crook, in the financial Press,
read of his own wonderful financial operations in Paris and in New York,
reports which were calculated to raise him in the estimation of the
great house of Sandys and Hornton. The City had read of Rex Rutherford
day after day, and there were rumours of a great scheme he had for a new
electric tube rail system for the outer suburbs of Paris, for which he
was negotiating with the French Government.
Purcell Sandys had read all this--a Press campaign which had cost the
master criminal a mere three hundred pounds. With that sum he had
established a reputation in the financial papers. Editors of newspapers
cannot always exclude the "puff paragraphs" when they are cleverly
concealed by a master of that craft. And it often takes even a shrewd
sub-editor to detect the gentle art of self-advertisement.
That afternoon the old financier walked alone through the Park as far as
Kensington Gardens and back. He knew that the crash must come at latest
in a day or two, and Sandys and Hornton must suspend payment.
There was no way out.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
THE SACRIFICE.
For Elma the world held no future. Though surrounded by every luxury in
that magnificent Park Lane mansion, the millionaire home that was the
most notable in all London's modern houses, her only thoughts were of
her father and of her lover Roddy.
She hated that fat, beady-eyed but elegantly-dressed man whom Mr
Harrison had introduced to her father, and who was now so openly making
love to her. His words and his manner were alike artificial. The
feminine mind is always astute, and she knew that whatever he said was
mere empty compliment. She saw upon his lips the sign of sensuousness,
a sign that no woman fails to note. Sensuousness and real love are
things apart, and every woman can discriminate them. Men are deceivers.
Women may, on the other hand, allure, and be it said that the vampire
woman like Freda Crisp is ever with us.
In the life of London, of Paris, or of New York, the vampire woman in
society plays a part which is seldom suspected.
They are in a class by themselves, as was Freda Crisp. The vampire
woman is the popular term for a woman who lives by preying upon others;
men usually, but upon her own sex if occasion demands.
Freda Crisp, though few of the characters in this human drama of love
and cupidity had suspected her, was a case in point. She was a type
that was interesting. As a girl of eighteen everyone admired her for
her charm of manner, her conversational gifts and her bright intellect,
which was marred only by a rather too lively imagination, and a tendency
to romance so ingeniously that no one ever knew if she told the truth or
not.
Her career was abnormal, and yet not stranger than that of some others
in these post-war days.
At nineteen she had been to prison for swindling. Physically she was
wonderfully fascinating, but her chief characteristic was an absence of
all real affection and moral feeling. Even as a girl she could profess
passionate love for those from whom she expected profit and gain; but
misfortune and death, even of those nearest her, would leave her quite
unmoved.
She was a perfect type of the modern adventuress. She could act well,
and at times would shed tears profusely if she thought it the right
thing at the moment.
As she grew older her unrestrained coquetry threw her into the vicious
adventurous circle of which Gordon Gray was the master and moving
spirit. She threw in her lot with him. On board a transatlantic liner
on which she went for a trip to New York an officer fell a victim to her
charms, and supplied her with money that was not his. His defalcations
were discovered, and he committed suicide to escape disgrace.
That was the first unpleasant incident in her career after meeting Gray.
There were many afterwards. She was a woman whose sole aim was to see
and enjoy life. Without heart and without feeling, active, not passive
in her love-making, she, like many another woman before her, aspired to
power and influence over men, and many an honourable career was wrecked
by her, and much gain had gone into the joint pockets of Gordon Gray and
herself.
Purcell Sandys had been ruined. She knew it, and laughed.
She sat in Gray's rooms in St James's smoking a cigarette before going
to dine at a restaurant, and was discussing the situation.
"Really, my dear Gordon," she said, puffing the smoke from her lips,
"you are wonderful! You have the whole affair in your hands. We shall
both make a fortune over this concession. The whole thing is as easy as
falling off a log, thanks to you."
"It hasn't been so easy as you think, my dear Freda, that I can assure
you," he replied. "But I think we are now on a fair way towards
bringing off our coup. The one great thing in our favour is old
Homfray's death. He knew far too much. At any moment he might have
given us away. He was the one person in the whole world whom I feared."
"And you were a fool to defy him by selling that petty bit of property
at Totnes," said the handsome woman.
"No, Freda, I wasn't. I did it to prove that I defied him. When one
man defies another it causes the defied to think. That is why I did it.
I knew his secret--a secret that no parson could face in his own
parish. And if he dared to say a word against me I should have told
what I knew to the bishop."
"Would the bishop have believed you?"
"Of course. He had only to look up the date of the criminal trial, then
old Homfray, who knew so much of our little business, would have had to
face the music. No, Freda, the old sky-pilot was too cute for us. He
dared not face the music."
"But the girl, Elma Sandys? She's a good sort and--well, Gordon, I tell
you, I'm a bit sorry for her."
"I'm not. You and I will part for a bit, and I'll marry her. By so
doing I'll gain a fortune, and then after a time I'll come back to you,
old girl. I won't desert you--I promise that!"
"But would you really come back?" asked the woman, after a pause.
The stout man put his big hand upon hers and, looking into her eyes,
said, "I swear it. We've been in tight corners before, Freda. Surely
you can trust me in this--eh? It means big money for both of us, and no
further worry for you."
"I don't know that I can trust you, Gordon," the woman said, looking him
straight in the face.
"Bah! you're jealous of the girl!" And he laughed. "She's only a slip
of a thing who doesn't count."
"But you've taken a fancy to her."
"I have, and I mean to marry her. Nothing can prevent that."
"I could," snapped the woman.
"Yes. But you won't, my dear Freda. If you did--well, you'd forgo all
the money that will very soon be yours."
"Arthur stands in with us."
"Well, I suppose we shall have to give him a little bit. But he'll have
to be satisfied with a few hundreds."
"He expects a quarter share."
"He'll have to go on expecting," laughed her companion. "`Guinness'
always expects more than he's entitled to. It is a complaint of his."
"And if you married this girl, do you think you would be happy, Gordon?"
"Happy? I'm not seeking happiness, my dear girl. I'm after money."
"But can't it be managed without your marriage to Elma?"
"No, it can't," he declared. "That's one of my conditions to old
Sandys. Naturally the girl is thinking of her lover. But she'll soon
see that he's deceived her, and then she'll learn to forget him."
"I doubt it. I know the temperament of young girls of Elma's stamp."
"You're jealous. I repeat!" he said with sarcasm. "Fancy! Your being
jealous of Elma! Am I so good-looking and such an Adonis--eh?"
"You're anything but that," she replied sharply. "But you see, Gordon,
you've taught me never to trust a soul, not even yourself. And I don't.
Once you marry that girl you will become a rich man and try to shake me
off. But,"--and a fierce expression showed in the woman's eyes--"but
I'll watch that you don't. I can say a lot, remember."