A Master Of Deception Part 27

"Dress! You needn't dress! They're homely folk at Kensington, and Stella will excuse you; she won't want you to waste, in dressing, valuable time which might be spent with her. You come straight on from the office in your toil-stained garments. She'll want to know what time. Shall I say five? I dare say, at a pinch, you can manage to be in Kensington by five."

Rodney considered. If he did go straight on from the office he would at least escape the risk of another heated discussion with Miss Joyce--that would be something.

"Very well, sir; if Stella will forgive me coming as I am, as you say, all toil-stained, I'll try my best to be with her as near as possible to five."

CHAPTER XVII

THE ACTING HEAD OF THE FIRM

Mr. Austin and Rodney left the house together, and so disappointed Miss Joyce, who was waiting to have one or two last words with Mr.

Elmore. Having parted from Mr. Austin, Rodney paid a few calls on his way to St. Paul's Churchyard.

To begin with, he went into a jeweller's shop, and bought a ring set with pearls and diamonds--a simple, inexpensive trifle, which cost six pounds. It was designed for Stella's finger, and was to be her engagement ring.

"It won't do," he said to himself, "for it to cost too much, for one of her inquiring family will want to know where I got the money from.

She'll value it none the less because 'I can no more, though poor the offering be.'"

Then he looked in at the offices of the White Star Steamship Company, and paid a deposit on a berth which he booked on a steamer which was to sail from Liverpool to New York on the following Thursday, booking it in the name of John Griffiths; then into the offices of the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, where he booked a berth for the following Friday, from Southampton to Buenos Ayres, in the name of Charles d.i.c.kinson; then to the Cunard offices, where he booked for Sat.u.r.day to New York, in the name of Adolphus Ridgway. Afterwards he visited the Bishop's Registry, in Doctors' Commons, and there, having made certain affidavits, received, in exchange for two sovereigns, a strip of paper which authorised him to marry Gladys Patterson, spinster, at any church in the London diocese. Thus prepared, as one might suppose, for more than one emergency, he paid still another call before proceeding to St. Paul's Churchyard--on Clarence Parmiter, solicitor. From him he wanted to know what forms it would be necessary to go through to enable Miss Patterson to draw on her late father's banking account.

Mr. Parmiter explained that to do this it would be necessary, first of all, to prove Mr. Patterson's will--and it was not usual to do that, at any rate, till after the testator was buried. When, Mr. Parmiter asked, was the funeral to take place. In spite of himself, his visitor smiled; so fast had events come crowding on him that the fact that the dead man would have to be put into his grave had entirely escaped his notice--so far as he was aware, no arrangements for the funeral had been made of any sort or kind. Mr. Parmiter looked as if he felt that the smile with which this announcement was made was a little out of place. He said that probably Rodney would find that the matter had been arranged by one of the executors, or by Miss Patterson herself.

If cash was wanted in the interim; if Miss Patterson and Mr. Andrews, as executor, would attend with him at a bank with which Mr. Patterson had an account, he did not doubt that arrangements might be made which would provide the lady with such advances as she required; and, of course, if she chose, she might instruct the bank to honour any cheques which he--Rodney Elmore--might draw, acting on her behalf.

Mr. Elmore left his friend's chambers with a feeling strong upon him that the business of getting his uncle's money out of the bank was not going to be as simple as he had hoped it would be. Clarence Parmiter even told him that the bank would not now honour any cheque which Graham Patterson might have drawn while still alive. This he did feel was unreasonable; it rendered even forgery futile. If he could wait he did not doubt that matters would be perfectly all right; but--could he wait? If only certain difficulties could be smoothed away, and he was given time, he did not doubt that he would be able to load himself with money; but could they be smoothed away, even for a week? Danger threatened from so many quarters; he really had been such an utter fool. If he had only realised what a fool, he would have taken precious good care to walk more warily; he would have been a wiser and a better man. But wisdom after the event was easy; what he needed was to be ready at a moment's notice for whatever came. He had planned escape in three different directions on three following days--if he could only get away with enough money to count! There was that nest-egg which he had found in his uncle's drawer, but what was that to a man in his plight? What he wanted was ten, or even, say, five thousand pounds. With five thousand pounds he might do very well on the other side of the world.

As, strolling leisurely along, he considered the matter in all its bearings calmly, it appeared to him that nothing worth calling money could be got at least until the morrow. In the morning he would meet his cousin at the bank, with Parmiter and Andrews; the arrangements would be made of which Parmiter had spoken; then, immediately after, he would be free to lay hands on as much ready cash as the arrangements permitted. He had no doubt that everything would be all right until to-morrow--he would so manage that it should be; all the same, he would have liked to have had a good supply of coin at his command, in case. However, it was no use grizzling at what might not be. He smiled as he arrived at this conclusion; he was still smiling when he reached the office. He marched, as a matter of course, to the room which had been his uncle's own particular sanctum, and this time no one even as much as hinted nay. Indeed, he was presently followed by Andrews, who informed him, with a countenance of decent solemnity, that he had made arrangements, which he hoped would meet with his and Miss Patterson's approval, for the interment of Mr. Patterson's remains in the family vault at Kensal Green, the interment to take place upon the morrow--Wednesday. Tickled by certain thoughts of his own, Rodney smiled as he listened; but this time, as his face was bent over the table, it is possible that the smile went unnoticed. He expressed himself as greatly obliged by what Andrews had done, and was certain that his feelings would be shared by Miss Patterson. Indeed, he was convinced that Miss Patterson would be willing to leave everything in his charge, since she would feel a.s.sured that everything he did would be right and proper and for the best. Mr. Andrews put his hand up to his mouth and coughed--the cough of one who was sensible that he deserved the compliment which was paid him.

He wanted to know if Mr. Elmore did not think it would be well to close the office for the whole of to-morrow, so as to give the staff an opportunity of at least attending at the graveside. They had all been remembered in the will, and would like to show the last tokens of respect for their dead master. Rodney, to whom the notion of marking such an occasion as a sort of holiday was novel, informed Andrews that the idea was excellent, and that he was at liberty to act in the matter as he thought was right. Andrews then wanted to know if Miss Patterson would be present, or if he--Rodney Elmore--would represent her as chief mourner. The suggestion moved Rodney in a way he would not have cared to admit. He had had no intention of attending his uncle's funeral at all--and as chief mourner! He to represent his cousin in such a capacity! That would be indeed to mock the dead. He was conscious of a feeling which surprised himself; he had not supposed he was so sensitive.

"I think," he told Andrews, "we must leave these points till later. I will consult with Miss Patterson and--observe her wishes. There is another matter," he went on. "Access to Mr. Patterson's banking account is not so easy as I imagined. My acquaintance with the procedure in these cases is nil; I don't know what yours amounts to."

"I know no more than you; this is the first time I find myself in such a position. Two payments of some importance are to be made this week; I was wondering how they would be met. Of course, if representations are made, time will be given."

"But, all the same, you would rather the payments were made? Exactly my feelings, Andrews; I want everything to be done in due order. I am going to arrange for Miss Patterson to meet you and Mr. Parmiter at the bank to-morrow morning, when I am advised that it will be possible to make arrangements which will enable us to meet all liabilities as they fall due. By the way, I believe that the trading account pa.s.s-book is in your charge; you might let me look at it."

Rodney examined the book when it was brought to him with great attention. He was already posted in certain figures which had to deal with his uncle's private account. Customers were brought in to him; some who had called in the ordinary course of business, others who had come to offer condolences, and so on. Their being brought straight to him showed a frank acceptance on Andrews' part of the fact that he was to be acting head of the firm; none the less, therefore, he was careful that Andrews was present at each of the interviews, referring certain matters to him with a little air of deference which won, as it was intended to win, the managing man's heart. The customers were favourably impressed, agreeing, as they went out, that Graham Patterson's mantle had descended on to capable shoulders.

"I shouldn't wonder," declared Mr. Brailson North as he shook hands with Mr. Andrews at the outer door, "if he turns out to be every bit as good a man as his uncle."

This, coming from a member of one of the largest firms in the City, was praise indeed. The managing man's eyes glistened. Anything which suggested a compliment to the business, so wrapped up in it was his whole existence, was a compliment to him. Since yesterday his ideas on the subject of Mr. Elmore had changed.

"Mr. North," he addressed the visitor in a confidential whisper, "Mr.

Patterson was a good man, an excellent man of business in his way, sound and discreet; but between you, me, and this doorpost, I shouldn't wonder if the young one was better, with all his uncle's soundness and discretion, together with something that his uncle hadn't got. He's surprised me! You mark my words, I shouldn't be surprised if the house of Graham Patterson--there's going to be no alteration in the t.i.tle--takes its place among the greatest City houses--mind you, in the front rank."

Mr. North laughed.

"There's no reason why your prophecy shouldn't come true. This is the day of the young man. Your young man has evidently got a head on his shoulders; he's a good foundation to build on. If he has grit, steadiness, caution, and knows just what sort of structure he would raise on it, there's no reason that I know of why he shouldn't build anything he likes. I agree with you in thinking that it is possible that the house of Graham Patterson is destined to be, in all respects, one of the finest in the City of London."

While these things were being said in his praise Rodney Elmore was writing to Miss Patterson. He enclosed for her inspection the marriage licence he had bought, asked in what church she would like the ceremony to take place on Monday, and added that he hoped to be able to make all final detailed arrangements with her to-morrow after the funeral. He told her of the difficulty which had arisen about getting money, asked her to meet him at the bank in the morning at 11.30; hoped that afterwards they might lunch together, pointing out that he never had lunched with her yet. Since after to-morrow he looked forward to being able to spend most of his time with her till Monday, and then for ever and a day--and that wouldn't seem a day too long!--he said that he felt that it would be better to devote the evening to doing certain little things of his own, which, sooner or later, would have to be done. By doing them he would clear the decks for action, so that, when the time for action came, he would be able to devote the whole of his time and, indeed, the whole of his life to her. All of which meant that he would not be able to tell her, except on paper, that he loved her till they met at the bank to-morrow morning.

Before actually slipping it into the envelope, together with this edifying epistle, he read the marriage licence carefully through. The perusal started him on what, for him, was an unwonted train of thought. Already, while still in the first flush of youth, he had spoilt his life, brought it to final wreck and ruin. What an extremely silly thing to have done! It was characteristic of this young gentleman that he never could bring himself to look at anything through serious eyes--even death. Whatever his first impulse might be, his second was to smile. Life, with all that appertained thereto, was such a funny thing. Here was he, with a career on either hand, each of which would lead at least to fortune; yet he might have neither. That did seem droll. Each was represented by a woman; personally he would have preferred that which was represented by Gladys, if only because he had no doubt that ere long he would be master not only of the business but of her. He was not so sure of Stella. In her he suspected an obstinate streak which he feared might be congenital. He had always felt that the Austins were, as the head of the house had put it, "stocky." He would find them more inclined to manage than to be managed. One thing he did know of himself: that he never could be managed. He might not put up an open fight--open fighting was not precisely in his line--but, if a sustained attempt were made to manage him, he would slip away--somehow, that was sure. Therefore, if only for the sake of peace and quietude, it would be better to avoid the risk. All the same, there was something about Stella which did appeal to him. With a sudden smile, slipping the licence and the letter into the envelope, he closed the flap.

Then, with pen in hand, as he was about to write the address, he started again to think. It was women--girls--who had brought him to his present pa.s.s, that was how he put it to himself. What Mabel Joyce said was perfectly true: he could not be alone with a girl without making love to her. It was a physical impossibility; he did not know why, but it was. The mischief was that his instinct had not warned him they were dangerous, hence his horrid situation. Indeed, it was hard that they should be dangerous; they were so pleasant to make love to.

There were men who cared nothing for women, who went through life without making love--real love!--to a single one. How they managed he could not think. To him life under such conditions would not be worth living. He was a Sybarite. Life meant to him its good things; were there better things than women? He doubted it. He thought little of men; he had a very high opinion of women; he doubted if he had ever met one in whom there was not something to be desired.

Take Mabel Joyce. She was showing him a side of her character whose existence he had not suspected. Yet he understood her, quite believed her when she said that she was fighting for her life. No one could have been sweeter to him than she had been; then she was such a pretty little thing, from the tips of her little pink toes to the top of her fluffy little head. It could hardly be set down to her as a fault if she was sweet no longer. Let him be just! Then there was Gladys, a girl of quite a different type; but that was the charm about women, there were so many types. He was persuaded that they would have the best possible time together, if the fates could only manage to be kind. He would make her a model husband, he really would; he rather wondered what it would feel like to be a husband, but he did not doubt that it would be all right. A little cramped, perhaps; but he would study her, and her interests, in every possible way. She should never regret the father she had lost, who was precious little loss after all. He would be better to her than a father; he should rather think so! Then there was Mary Carmichael; but at the thought of Mary Carmichael his pulses began to dance--that any man should be a.s.s enough to care nothing for women when there was Mary Carmichael! Also, let him not forget little Stella--why, what an idiot he was; she was waiting for him now! He glanced at his watch. Great Scott! how the time had flown! And that poor child was longingly waiting for him to put his arms about her and stifle her with kisses. That he should be brute enough to let her wait!

He addressed the envelope, rang the bell, bade the lad who answered take it at once to Russell Square, took his hat off its peg, and, after a few hurried words to Andrews as he went out, started off for Kensington.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PERFECT LOVER

Stella, opening the door for him herself, was at him like a small wild thing.

"I thought you were never coming!"

"Why, it's not yet half-past five."

"Half-past five! when I expected papa to bring you with him, and he said you'd be here by five! Come in here; I'll talk to you!"

She took from him his hat and stick and gloves, and placed them on a table in the hall; then she led him by the sleeve of his coat into a room on the left, and shut the door, and drew a long breath.

"Oh--h--h! So you've come at last, my lord! Let me look at you, to make sure that it is you. Oh, Rodney, why have you been so long in coming?"

She put her arms about his neck and drew him down to her and kissed him. He said, softly:

"I do believe you have grown shorter."

"You wretch! To let a thing like that be your first word to me!"

"It's such a long way down, though it's well worth stooping for."

He kissed her again, tenderly, on her pretty lips--he was an expert in the art of kissing. Because he did it so well, she, not knowing that such skill came of practice, had him kiss her again and again and again, till the breath had half gone out of her body and she was all rapturous palpitation.

"If you only knew what ages it seems since I saw you!"

"Stella, what do you think it has seemed to me? If you only knew what I have gone through!"

"Poor boy! I suppose you have had to bear a good deal."

"You have no notion what I've had to bear."