MR. ALSTON CALLS
Mr. Philip Slotman sat in his office; he was slowly deciphering a
letter, ill-written and badly spelled.
“DEAR SIR,
“According to promise I am writing to you hopeing it finds you as it
leaves me at present. Dear sir, having some news I am writing to tell
you saime. Yesterday Mr. John Everard of Buddesby was here and him and
Miss Jone was in the garden for a long time. I seen them from my
window, but could not get near enuff to hear. Anyhow I see him kissing
her hand. Laiter, after he had gone, I seen Miss Jone and Mrs. Everard
together, and listened as best I could. From what I heard I imadgined
that Miss Jone and Mr. John Everard is now engaged to be married, which
Mrs. Everard seems very pleased to hear.
“This morning Miss Jone gets a letter and the postmark is Hurst Dormer,
like you told me to look out for. She is now gone to London. Please
send money in accordance with promise and I will write and tell you all
the news as soon as there is any more.
“Youres truley,
“MISS ALICE BETTS.”
The door opened, a boy clerk came in. Slotman thrust the letter he had
been reading into an open drawer.
“What is it? What do you want?”
“A gentleman to see you, sir. Mr. Alston from—”
“I can’t see him!” Slotman said quickly. “Tell him I am out, and that—”
“I am already here, and you are going to see me.” Hugh Alston came in.
“You can go!” to the boy, who hesitated. “You hear me, you can go!”
Hugh closed the door after the lad.
“You’re not going to be too busy to see me this morning, Slotman, for I
have interesting things to discuss with you.”
“I am a busy man,” Slotman began nervously.
“Very!” said Hugh—“very, so I hear.”
He stepped into the room, and faced Slotman across the paper-littered
table.
“I have been hearing about some of your enterprises,” he said, and
there was that in his face that caused Mr. Slotman a feeling of
insecurity and uneasiness. “One of them is blackmail!”
“How dare—” Slotman began, with an attempt at bluster.
“That’s what I am here for; to dare. You have been blackmailing a young
lady whose name we need not mention. You have obtained the sum of three
thousand pounds from her, by means of threats. I want that money—and
more; I want a declaration from you that you will never molest her
again; for if you do—if you do—”
Hugh’s face was not good to see, and Mr. Slotman quivered uneasily in
his chair.
“The—the money was lent to me. Miss Meredyth worked for me, and—and I
went to her, explaining that my business was in a precarious condition,
and she very kindly lent me the money. And I haven’t got it, Mr.
Alston. I’ll swear I haven’t a penny of it left. I could not repay it
if I wanted to; it—it was a friendly loan.”
Slotman leaned back in his chair; he looked at Hugh.
“You have done me a cruel wrong, Mr. Alston,” he said, in the tone of a
deeply injured man. “Miss Meredyth worked for me, and while she was
here I respected her, even more.” He paused. “At any rate I respected
her. She attracted me, and, I will confess it, I fell in love with her.
She was poor; she had nothing then to tempt a fortune hunter, and thank
Heaven I can say I was never that. I asked her to be my wife, no man
could do more, no man could act more honourably. You’ll admit that, eh?
You must admit that?”
“And she refused you?”
“Not—not definitely. It was too good an offer for a girl in her
position to refuse without consideration.”
“You lie!”
Slotman shifted uneasily. “I cannot force your belief.”
“You’re right, you can’t. Well, go on—what more?”
“She came into this money; my proposal no longer tempted her. She then
refused me, even though I told her that the past—her past—would be
forgotten, that I would never refer to it.”
“What past?” Hugh shouted.
“Hers and yours,” Slotman said boldly. “A supposed marriage that never
took place, her sudden disappearance from her school in June, nineteen
hundred and eighteen, when that marriage was supposed to have been
celebrated—but never was. Her story of leaving England for Australia—an
obvious lie, Mr. Alston. All those things I knew. All those things I
can prove—against her—and against you—and—and—” Slotman’s voice
quivered. He leaped to his feet and uttered a shout for help.
The blood-red mist was before Hugh’s eyes, and out of that mist
appeared a vision of a face, an unpleasant face, with starting eyes and
gaping mouth.
This he saw, and then his vision cleared, and with a shudder he
released his hold on the man’s throat, and Philip Slotman subsided
limply into his chair.