Lord George Maudlaine had been making rather a long stay at Merland; but
things were, he told himself, going on very satisfactorily. Brace
seemed to have been driven off, and in a few days would be at sea. Sir
Murray was all that could be desired, and favoured more strongly than
ever the matrimonial projects of his lordship, telling him, with a grim
smile, that he need fear no rival now. In fact, at times, his lordship
thought him almost too eager, and tried to make out whether, by any
means, he was going to be what he called "taken in." He was lying one
morning about nine o'clock, indolently going over the matter in his not
very logical mind. He had had a cup of coffee brought him by his valet,
and had added to the dense odour he had already imparted to the pale
blue satin hangings of his bed, by smoking a cigar, and spilling the ash
about the delicate linen in which he lay.
"Let me see," said his lordship, yawning, and going over the matter for
the twentieth time. "I don't think I can get anything more out of it.
I can't see how it can prove a `sell.' She's very pretty and lady-like,
and well-bred, and all that sort of thing. Don't much care for me, but
then, that don't matter. The Castle, and every penny the old man has,
comes to her at his death, and he comes down handsome as to marriage
settlements. Why, there can't be anything wrong, though the more she
hangs away, the more he pushes the matter forward. I'd run back in a
moment if I thought I was being `done'; but, then, I don't see how I can
be; and, besides, it was my own seeking at first. It's all right, and
in a few months I shall be able to shake myself clear of those precious
Hebrews. Come in! Well, Willis?"
"Gentleman wishes to see your lordship on important business."
"Must be some one wants his little bill," thought his lordship. "Tell
him I'm particularly engaged," he said, aloud. "What the deuce does he
mean by coming at such an hour as this? Know who it is?"
"Yes, my lord," said the valet, meaningly, for as his own salary was
regularly paid, and his perquisites were many, he had a very profound
contempt for all duns. "Think it's Mr Braham, my lord."
"What?" exclaimed his lordship, completely thrown off his equanimity,
for he had judged the visitor to be one of the tradesmen of the little
town--one of the unfortunates whom he had favoured with his orders.
"You don't mean to say--"
"Come down to Marshton last night, m' lord, and driven over this
morning."
"Has--has any one--has Sir Murray seen him, do you think?"
"Can't say, m' lord, but he drove up to the grand entrance quite cheeky,
in as wretched an old gig as ever your lordship see--saw," added the
valet, correcting himself.
"You'd better show him up," said his lordship, with a blank look of
misery in his face, as he first threw off, and then replaced, his silken
night-cap. "Say I'm ill, Willis."
"Yes, m' lord," said the valet, and he went out with his tongue in his
cheek. "I heered him say as he'd hold the string, that day he went away
from us in town, and it strikes me as he's come to pull it now. Step
this way, sir, if you please," he continued, entering the
breakfast-room, where he found Mr Braham making himself perfectly at
home with some coffee and "devilled" chicken, breakfast being a meal
that strangers at the Castle took at their pleasure. The meal was
prepared, and allowed to remain in the breakfast-room for a couple of
hours, ready for those who liked to partake thereof. Hence, Mr Braham,
being hungry from his early ride, judged himself to be one who would
like to partake, and acted accordingly.
"I'll have another cup of coffee first, my man," he said, coolly.
"Lordship quite well?"
"Well, no, sir," said the valet; "but if you'll step up, he'll see you
in his bed-room."
And, for his own sake, having his lord's future somewhat at heart, the
servant could not refrain from displaying his eagerness to get the
inopportune visitor away from the breakfast-room, lest Sir Murray or
some guest should encounter him.
"It's all right, my man--never mind me. I'm hungry, and if Sir Murray
Gernon does come, I'm only his lordship's confidential man of business,
d'yer see?"
The valet nodded, and stood staring while the early visitor displayed
his vigorous appetite.
"That the young lady I met in the hall?" said Mr Braham, coolly.
"Young lady, sir?" said the valet, inquiringly.
"Now, look here, my fine fellow," said the money-lender: "take my
advice. Keep friends with me, and, I think, it will be better for you
in the long run. I might find it necessary to write and ask you a few
questions, and I should expect satisfactory answers. I dare say you
have a pencil--haven't you?"
The valet nodded, while the visitor busied himself with his pocket-book.
"Look here, then! here's a scrap of paper for you to make memorandums
on, ready to tell me anything I want, specially keeping in mind any
movements his lordship may make. You see, he's forgetful, and don't
write to me, and a long journey like this, to find him gone, would be
rather a nuisance, do you see? Ah! I see you understand; and, I dare
say, when you've fairly worn out that piece of paper, I can find you
another."
Now, as the said piece of paper was a five-pound note, Mr Willis, his
lordship's valet, had no difficulty at all in promising to make the
necessary memoranda. It was strange, too, how very much Mr Braham
appeared to change in his sight. It would be a queer thing, thought the
valet, if his lordship's confidential man of business couldn't have a
bit of breakfast after his journey; so, requesting the visitor to ring
when he was ready to go up to his lordship's room, he prepared to leave.
"No, don't go, my man," said Braham, "I've just done. That was the
young lady, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir; that's her," said Willis.
"Ah! Nice girl. Thanks--yes, you in ay open a bottle of claret. Fine
place this, my man. If I were you, I should stick to his lordship.
Money is tight in the city, sometimes--eh? Ha--ha--ha! We know--eh?
But it will all come right; and if I were you, I should go in for the
butlership. It'll come to that by-and-by, I dare say."
Mr Braham condescended to wink at the servant, and the valet made bold
to wink in reply; and, at last rising, Mr Braham was ushered into Lord
Maudlaine's room.
"De do, Mr Braham?" said his lordship, languidly; and then, as the door
closed on the valet: "Con-found you! what the deuce brought you here?"
"Customary conveyance, my lord," said the Jew, coolly.
"But what could induce you to come down here and spoil all?" exclaimed
the Viscount.
"Your honourable lordship's extreme want of punctuality," said the
unwelcome visitor.
"Punctuality!--what do you mean?" said his lordship, fiercely.
"Nothing--nothing," said the Jew, nonchalantly, as he lolled back in his
chair, after helping himself to one of the cigars on the table, and
preparing to smoke. "I see from your lordship's freedom of
conversation, that you possess the happy independent spirit given by
money. I see you are quite prepared."
"Prepared--prepared for what?" gasped the recumbent debtor.
"Oh! only to meet my demands! I did wait a week; but as I did not hear
from you, I was obliged to come and remind you."
"Remind me of what?" exclaimed the Viscount.
"Oh! only that time's up!"
Lord Maudlaine sank back upon his pillow, half stupefied.
"Impossible," he pondered: he had made no memorandum--he never did of
these disagreeable transactions; but it was impossible that six months
could have elapsed, and he said so.
"Six months, my lord? Why, what put it into your head that the paper
had six months to run?"
"Why, I asked you to make it six months, and you said you would try."
"Well, I did try, my clear lord. But you astonish me! Did you not read
the bills over, when you put your name to them?"
"Confound you! you know I did not!" cried the Viscount, angrily. "They
were only for three months, then?"
"That's all, my lord. But there--what does it matter? Give me a cheque
for the amount, and have done with it. There will be so much weight off
your mind."
Lord Maudlaine grinned in a manner that indicated how gladly he would
have liked to wring his tormentor's neck, but he crushed down his wrath.
"Well, what's to be done? I can't pay."
"Very sorry, my lord--but you know the result, without Sir Murray Gernon
would--"
"Hang you, be quiet!" exclaimed the other, fiercely. "He knows that I
am poor; but would you upset all, now that matters have gone so far?
You must renew again."
"But the cost to your lordship will be ruinous," expostulated the Jew.
"What do you care for that? Look here, Braham: all is going on as well
as possible--I only want time. If you clap me in a sponging-house now,
you will not get a penny, for Sir Murray's pride would never get over
it. I could never show myself here again. You must renew."
"Can't," said Braham, shaking his head--"can't, indeed. Money is more
and more valuable every day."
"So is time to me," said his lordship, grimly. "Now, look here, Braham:
is such a chance as this to be played with?"
"Thousand pities to lose it."
"Thousand pities--yes!" exclaimed the Viscount, excitedly. "Yes, I'd
give a thousand pounds sooner than be thrown off now."
"Well," said the Jew, "I don't want to be hard. On those terms--terms,
mind, that you offer yourself--I'll renew for another three months; but
mind this: I'll have the money to the day, or you know the consequences.
If the money is not paid, you will be taken, even if it is at the
church door."
"Terms!--what terms?" stammered the Viscount. "I offered no terms."
"Your lordship said that you would give a thousand pounds for three
months' reprieve," said his visitor, coolly.
"Pooh! absurd! You are mad," said the Viscount.
"Oh! I beg pardon," said Braham, rising. "I understood you to say so.
As your lordship pleases."
"Sit down there, for Heaven's sake, Braham. What are you thinking
about?"
"Nothing--nothing, my lord; but pray excuse me. Time is nothing to you;
it is everything to me."
"By George! what a position," muttered the unhappy Viscount. "There,
look here: you'd let me off for another three months, on the same terms
as the last--eh?"
The Jew shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. His hand was already
upon the door, he opened it, and had passed out, when, half mad with the
prospect before him, the Viscount shrieked:
"Braham! Here! Stop! I agree;" and the Jew slowly re-entered the
room.
"No, my lord, I think it would be better not," he said. "You are
already too deeply in debt. My conscience would not allow me to make
such terms."
"I can't stand it--that cant, Braham," said the Viscount, hoarsely.
"You have the paper and stamps in your pocket--there are pens and ink;
draw them up, and let me sign the bills, and let's have an end to it.
I'm not very clever, but it is plain enough to me how you pull the
string, for you have me fast enough. Make much of it, though, for I
would not consent but that you have me in a corner."
"Now, don't be hard," grinned Braham, as, without a minute's loss of
time, he drew out the requisite slips of paper, and held them, when
ready, for the Viscount to sign. "Look at the risk I run," he added, as
he took a fresh clip of ink, and held the pen to his lordship, placing
the writing-table by the bedside, ready to his hand.
"Take them, and make much of them. You came down meaning to make a good
bargain out of me, and I hope you are satisfied?"
"Quite--thanks, my lord," laughed the Jew, as he placed the bills in his
pocket-book. "Never mind, my lord; you will settle down soon, and cease
kite-flying; but mind this: three months only, and then--no mercy!"
"Good morning," said the Viscount, shortly; and unwilling to display his
rage, he turned round in bed, and dragged the clothes over his
shoulders.
"Good morning, my lord," said the Jew, with a grin of triumph; but the
hour of success had not yet arrived for either: incubation was
proceeding apparently in the most satisfactory manner, but until Isa
Gernon's hand was his, Lord Maudlaine's prospect of getting out of debt
was small indeed.
Book 2, Chapter XXI.