A PLEDGE REDEEMED
If there had been another person present in Carsdale’s office,
quick-eyed enough to have taken in everything at a glance, he would
have seen that Griffkin’s announcement produced a different effect on
each of the three people who heard it. Carsdale himself looked frankly
astonished; Mrs. Walsingham, in spite of her sedulous training of
herself, could not repress a slight start of surprise nor keep down a
little heightening of colour. But Richard Shrewsbury jumped to his feet
with an exclamation of boyish enthusiasm and made for the door.
“It’s Burgoyne!” he almost shouted. “Burgoyne, you know, the explorer!
I told you about him, Mrs. Walsingham--he’s home sooner than they said.
Don’t you know him, Carsdale?--shan’t I bring him in?”
“Bring Captain Burgoyne in by all means,” said Carsdale, rising. “I
haven’t the pleasure of knowing him, but--what does the boy mean?” he
continued, turning to Mrs. Walsingham as Richard impatiently dashed out
of the room. “Does he know him?”
“He knew him in Trinidad,” answered Mrs. Walsingham, rapidly. “Burgoyne
stayed with his father. I fancy,” she said, glancing at the door, and
speaking still more rapidly and in a low voice, “I fancy that Burgoyne
came to see Leverton. Leverton once brought him in here about three
years ago, when you were away. Try to find out what he wants.”
Carsdale was quick enough to catch some hidden meaning in Mrs.
Walsingham’s tone. He nodded his head sharply.
“All right,” he said. “Don’t go. Let’s see, this chap has just come
home from South America, eh? I remember.”
Outside, Richard was vigorously shaking the hand of a big, bronzed man
who looked at him with good-humoured surprise. Also he was jerking out
boyish exclamations of delight. The big man laughed.
“Bless me, so it’s really young Dick!” he said when he could put a word
in. “Well, you’ve grown, youngster. But what are you doing here?”
“I live in London, of course,” said Richard. “I--oh, I’ll tell you all
about it afterwards. By Jove!--I am glad to see you, Burgoyne--but I
didn’t know you’d landed--I was going to run down to Southampton to
meet you. Come in, do!”
“What, are these your offices?” said Burgoyne, looking about him. “I
came to see Mr. Barclay Leverton.”
“Mr. Leverton is dead, but here is my friend Mr. Carsdale, who can tell
you anything you want to know,” said Richard, dragging the explorer
through the outer office, where Miss Rousby and Griffkin, quite aware
of his identity, stared at him with veneration. “Come and be introduced
to him--and to my friend Mrs. Walsingham, too.”
Captain Burgoyne suffered himself to be led into Carsdale’s room and to
be subjected to the ceremonies of introduction, and he took a chair and
looked around him with a smile.
“This is a little surprising,” he said. “I did not expect to meet an
old friend here. I came to see Mr. Leverton, and I am sorry to hear
that he is dead. Did it happen--recently?”
“Mr. Leverton has been dead six weeks,” replied Carsdale. “He had
been ill for some weeks, but he died very suddenly at last. Can I do
anything for you, Captain Burgoyne? I was in partnership with Mr.
Leverton. But perhaps your business with him was of a private nature?”
“Why, it was,” answered Captain Burgoyne “Yes----oh, yes, it was a
private affair. The fact was, he had certain property of mine in his
hands, and I--well, I want it.”
“Oh, yes?” said Carsdale. He was wondering to what the visitor could
possibly refer, and he found difficulty in surmising. “Mr. Leverton, of
course, had affairs of which I knew nothing,” he remarked.
“Just so,” responded Captain Burgoyne. “Perhaps his executors----”
“You had better call on his solicitor,” said Carsdale, who saw no
object in withholding information which any one could acquire without
difficulty. “Mr. Septimus Winch, 250A, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn.
I’ll write it down for you. Mr. Winch removed all Leverton’s private
belongings from his room here some weeks ago.”
“Ah, thanks--I’ll step around there,” said Captain Burgoyne, taking
the slip of paper which Carsdale handed to him. He rose and glanced at
Richard with a smile. “Where shall I find you again, Dick?” he asked.
“I’m coming out with you,” said Richard. “I say, look here--I’m going
to fix up a dinner now that you’ve come home, Burgoyne--for the four of
us here, eh? What day will suit you?”
“I must look at my diary,” said Burgoyne, with a smile at Carsdale.
“I’m pretty busy.”
“Shrewsbury forgets that you’re a public character,” said Carsdale.
“He’s not the only man that has a claim on you.”
“Well, he shall monopolize me for an hour, at any rate,” said Burgoyne,
laughing. He took Richard’s arm as they went out, and gave it a
friendly squeeze. “And what are you doing here, youngster?” he asked.
“I never expected to set eyes on you, you know!”
“My father’s dead, and so I came to England, and here I am,” answered
Richard. “I’ve got rooms in Berkeley Square, and you must come and see
me--come to breakfast to-morrow.”
“Yes, I think I can do that,” replied Burgoyne. “Ah, and so your good
father’s dead, Dick. He was a fine man, and a kind host. And of course
you’ve come in for all the money, and I hope it’s in safe hands.”
“Safe as--as the Bank of England,” answered Richard shortly. “Carsdale,
there, invested it, and my bankers say there couldn’t be better
investments.”
“That’s right,” said Burgoyne. “Well, I’m come into a fortune, too--got
the news of it at Lima. That’s why I came to seek Leverton. You never
knew Leverton?”
“No, he died the very day I came here,” said Richard. “But my father
did--they were old schoolfellows.”
“Leverton was a good chap,” remarked Burgoyne. “He was a member of a
club to which I belonged till I went off. And he lent me five thousand
pounds towards the expenses of my expedition--privately, you know. But
I gave him as security a certain diamond necklace which has been in our
family for a long time, and is said to have belonged to Maria Louisa,
Napoleon’s Empress. And now that I’m a moneyed man, I want to repay
that loan and get it back, though a diamond necklace is something of
a white elephant to me. However, I suppose one ought not to lose old
family possessions. Come with me, Dick, to see this lawyer.”
The clerk who carried Captain Burgoyne’s card to Mr. Winch returned
quickly to say that his principal would see Captain Burgoyne at
once, and he ushered the callers with great reverence to Mr. Winch’s
room. And Richard, closely following the famous explorer, saw an old
gentleman standing in a quaint room, and at his side a young lady in
deep mourning, and he perceived that both regarded Captain Burgoyne
with deep interest.
“My dear sir!” exclaimed Mr. Winch. “My dear sir! I am delighted to
see you, and I can guess the object of your visit, which is most
fortunately timed. This lady, my dear Captain Burgoyne, is the daughter
of our late friend, Mr. Barclay Leverton.”
Richard pricked up his ears. He suddenly remembered with a feeling of
deep shame, that he had completely forgotten to send his condolences
to the Leverton family, even to send flowers to lay on the coffin of
his father’s old friend. He had meant to do both, but in the bustle and
hurry of those first days in London, he had forgotten to do either.
Even now he was quite in ignorance of what family Barclay Leverton had
left, for neither Carsdale nor Mrs. Walsingham ever spoke of the dead
man or his belongings. But here, at any rate, was Leverton’s daughter,
and he looked at her with interest, and all the more closely because
she herself was looking at Burgoyne. And presently he found himself
being introduced to her, and he was conscious of becoming very shy--and
after that he was relegated to the shades, for the old lawyer and the
young lady and the explorer began to talk business.
“My dear sir,” said Mr. Winch, who seemed to be particularly delighted
to see Captain Burgoyne, “I may save time by telling you that Miss
Leverton and myself are fully aware of the transaction which took place
between her father and yourself. I recently heard of your own good
fortune, and I don’t suppose that I am wrong when I say that I gather
you have called for your historic necklace.”
“Quite right, sir,” answered Burgoyne. “And--incidentally--to pay my
debt. I wish I could have paid it to Mr. Leverton,” he added, with a
quick glance at Frances, “but--he knew I was greatly obliged to him.”
Frances gave the explorer a grateful look.
“And my father was very anxious that you should have your necklace
back again in safety, Captain Burgoyne,” she said. “He took particular
pains, only the night before his death, to let me know what he wished
done. I should like Captain Burgoyne to see the memoranda,” she
continued, turning to Mr. Winch. “They will show him what my father’s
intentions were.”
“Of course, of course,” said the solicitor. “Yes, my dear sir, although
the time for repayment of my late client’s loan to you is almost
expired, your property would have been safe for at least another
year. The necklace is deposited at my bank, Captain Burgoyne, and I
will send my managing clerk for it at once. In the meantime, here are
the memoranda which Miss Leverton speaks of--the notes are in her
handwriting in that paper, and in my late client’s in the other. You
see what his intentions were?”
Captain Burgoyne saw, and made a graceful acknowledgment to the dead
man’s daughter, begging her to accept the thanks which he would have
given to her father had he been alive. And then he handed over a cheque
to Mr. Winch, and presently the managing clerk came back from the bank
with the sealed parcel which Mr. Winch and Frances had deposited
there. Burgoyne was for dropping it carelessly into his pocket, but Mr.
Winch loudly protested against such an unbusiness-like course--that,
he said, would never do; Captain Burgoyne must see that his valuable
property was safe and sound. So the parcel was undone, and the diamond
necklace brought to light, and Mr. Winch entreated its owner to bestow
it in an inner pocket, and to keep a jealous hold on it, lest any of
the light-fingered gentry should steal it from him.
“For I have no doubt, my dear sir,” he added, in his mysteriously
confidential manner, “I have no doubt that the object which you so
lightly handle is worth a good deal more than the amount which you have
just paid to me, quite apart from its historical associations, eh?”
“Oh, I believe so,” answered Burgoyne. “I have always been led to
understand so, at any rate.”
Then he began to make his adieux, once more thanking Frances on her
father’s behalf, and he and Richard prepared to depart. But it turned
out that Miss Leverton and Mr. Winch were just then going out, too, and
they all went down the stairs together, and, as luck would have it,
Richard found himself at the girl’s side. And conquering his shyness
with a violent effort, he turned and addressed her.
“I was so sorry to hear of your father’s death,” he said abruptly.
“Awfully sorry!”
Frances turned and looked at him in surprise.
“You knew my father?” she said.
“No,” answered Richard. “No. But my father did--they were at school
together. And when I came to England I wrote to your father as soon as
I landed at Southampton, and I called at his office next morning--it
was the very morning he died. And so, of course, I never saw him--and
I’m awfully sorry.”
Frances looked at him in still greater surprise.
“You wrote to my father?” she said. “Then--who got the letter?”
“Oh!” said Richard. “Carsdale got the letter. It was, of course,
more or less of a business letter, you know--a letter asking your
father’s advice about investments and so on. And Carsdale’s been most
kind--awfully kind--you know him, of course? He said at once that
he’d like to do for me all that your father would have done for his
old friend’s son, and so he has--I don’t know what I should have done
without Carsdale. Nor without Mrs. Walsingham--I suppose you know
her, too? But all the same, I was dreadfully disappointed not to see
your father, and--I’m an awfully poor hand at saying anything, Miss
Leverton, but mayn’t I call to--to see your mother, you know? Your
father and mine were at school together--you must have heard him speak
of Martin Shrewsbury?”
He had hurried breathlessly through the last part of the speech, for
Mr. Winch was obviously waiting for the girl. And she was showing signs
of obvious confusion, not to say perturbation, and there was a sudden
flush on her face as she suddenly turned to Richard.
“I--very well--call at 7, Acacia Mansions, Maida Vale,” she said.
“Call--this afternoon--at four--if you like. If not, to-morrow--any
day.”
“To-day,” said Richard. “To-day!”
Then they parted, and Captain Burgoyne clapped his young friend’s
shoulder, and carried him off to lunch at the _Carlton_.