"I AM HE. FIRE."
The morning after Grey had been at the Castle, he awoke cold and
depressed. The magnitude of the misfortune just come upon him was more
apparent than the evening before. Up to yesterday he had been fighting
to defeat the past and render the future glorious. Henceforth all
thought of glory must be cast aside, and the struggle conducted solely
with a view to prevent fatal disgrace. He had lost the stake, and ran a
grave risk of losing his life. He had been playing against Sir William
Midharst. Now he was playing against the hangman.
The day of the baronet's return was not known. The young man must pass
through Daneford on his way to the Castle. More than likely he would
call at the "Warfinger Hotel," to leave his luggage there before setting
out for the Island.
Grey went to the "Warfinger Hotel," saw the landlord, told him Sir
William was expected home; and requested him to send instantly to the
Bank word of the baronet's arrival.
He felt queer to-day. That old sensation of everything being far away
and of little interest to him had come back upon him fourfold. He went
through the routine business of the Bank with as little interest as a
copying-clerk. He signed papers without reading them, and did not
understand those he read.
And now day after day the banker lived without change or adventure. All
his life he had been a man of action, a leader, and now he was wearily
waiting, waiting in weak hope haunted by fierce terrors. He felt his
physical health declining under the ordeal, but he had no alternative.
At last one afternoon, as he was sitting alone in his private office a
messenger came from the "Warfinger Hotel" announcing the return of Sir
William. The baronet had just arrived and ordered luncheon, so that in
all likelihood he would be at the hotel for an hour or two.
Grey rose heavily and walked to the hotel with a misgiving heart. He
carried in his hand his small black bag.
What reason had he to think this young man would take a merciful view of
the case? All his pride was gone now, except the pride in a good name he
did not deserve. He would crawl on his knees in private to this young
man, rather than lower his front a jot before the public. If he could
win over this young man he might save his name. It was not the hangman
he dreaded most. It was not death. It was the groans and execrations of
people over whom he once held imperial sway, and by whom he had been
regarded as the high-priest of humanity and justice.
When he arrived at the hotel, he sent in his card and was instantly
admitted.
The young man fixed his dark dreamy eyes upon the other as he entered,
rose slowly from his chair, and held out his hand freely, saying:
"I am very much obliged to you for calling. I wanted to see you
particularly."
This was unexpected. Grey thought Sir William would refuse to meet him
until after a visit to the Castle. What did the young man know? Grey
said:
"I have to speak to you on a very important matter indeed, and I would
wish to speak to you about it at once."
"I am quite at your service for an hour. Sit down. You are not looking
as well as I should like to see so good a friend."
"Friend!" sighed Grey. "Don't use that word again until I have
finished."
A quick look of present interest came into the dreamy eyes. The baronet
said: "I am ready to hear."
"I have been told by Mrs. Grant that you have come home to consult with
Miss Midharst about some important matter--I do not know what, and I do
not seek to know. Before you see Miss Midharst, I want to say to you
some words of the deepest importance, and I want you to permit me
to--lock the door." He was grave and collected in manner, and as he said
the last words he waved his hand softly towards the door.
"You may lock the door," said Sir William, taking an easy-chair, and
relapsing into his dreamy manner.
The banker walked slowly to the door, locked it deliberately, and then
came back to the window at which the young man was sitting. Then he sat
down on a chair opposite Sir William, having placed his bag on a small
table that stood between them.
The day was bright and clear. Past the wall of the hotel through which
that window looked ran the Weeslade. It was ebb tide, and now and then
down the river shot a small boat or glided a barge, while from the upper
wharves came the sound of chains and tackles, and the hoarse hoot of the
steamboat blowing off steam.
For a few seconds Grey sat silent, resting his head upon his hand. At
last he spoke:
"You have been asked to come back from Egypt to give advice to Miss
Midharst on some subject of importance. You are by your relationship
with her, and by her own agreement with you, the guardian of her person.
I am by the will of her father the guardian of her fortune. _Yours_ is a
precious trust."
Grey paused here to give the young man an opportunity of saying
something. Sir William merely said: "That is so."
"What I have further to say to you," continued Grey, "is in the nature,
Sir William, of a confession. A confession so degrading and humiliating,
that I have debated a thousand times whether I should make it or put an
end to my life."
"I am sincerely glad you adopted the alternative of confiding in me."
"Sir William, what do you consider the greatest calamity which could
befall Miss Midharst?"
"Really I have not thought of such a question, and could not answer it
off-hand."
"What would you do to the man who behaved in an unscrupulous manner to
Miss Midharst?"
Suddenly the young man lost his languid manner, sat bolt upright in his
chair, looked with a strong present interest in his eyes at the banker,
and demanded sharply: "What do you mean?"
Grey raised his head, and for the first time the eyes of the two men
met.
"A terrible injury, an irreparable injury; who had inflicted upon her an
injury so great that the sacrifice of his life could not atone for it,
not the devotion of a lifetime undo it?"
"Shoot him. Where is he?"
Grey opened the black bag, took out the revolver, and holding the muzzle
pointed at his own breast, handed it to the baronet, saying: "I am he.
Fire."
The young man sprang to his feet, seized the revolver, and keeping the
banker covered with it, said thickly through his clenched teeth: "A
moment. Wait a moment."
For some seconds there was neither motion nor word. The one man stood
over the other, the revolver in his hand, his finger on the trigger.
"I have thought of Maud until I am ready to shoot you here. Now speak.
What was it?"
"She is a beggar."
"How?"
"I have stolen all her fortune. I sold out the Consols and used the
money. The money is all gone."
"Have you confessed all?"
"Yes; all."
"And are you ready to die for that?"
"I am."
"There is nothing for you to add about Maud?"
"No. I have told you all candidly."
The young man seized Grey by the throat, and pulled him upon his feet.
For a moment he swayed the banker to and fro.
"Not this. Fire if you are a man. Not this."
"Damnation seize you for a fool! You terrified me about nothing." He
flung Grey violently from him.
"About nothing! I told you all her money is gone."
"And when did I tell you I wanted her money?"
"You never said anything to me about it."
"You are a fool, sir, and have terrified me for nothing."
Sir William stooped down, picked up the revolver, which had fallen from
his hand in the scuffle, and raising the window quietly dropped it into
the Weeslade. Then turning to the banker he said:
"Who knows of this?"
"Only you and I and my mother."
"That is true, is it?"
"It is."
"Miss Midharst has no suspicion of it?"
"Not the slightest. Only three people on earth know it. The three I have
named."
"Keep the secret where it is, and meet me here to-morrow at noon. I
shall then let you know what I intend doing."