Geoffrey Hamstead Part 24

"Had the client any money?" asked Geoffrey.

"Money? He was reeking with it. What he wanted, he said, was a quiet lawyer. I told him that the quietness of our business was its strong point, only equaled, in fact, by the unpleasant grave. Then it appeared that he had come on a trip from the States with a carpet-bag full of money which he said he had borrowed, and he wished, in effect, to know whether the United States could take him back again, _vi et armis_. I told him 'No,' and knocked ten dollars out of him before you could say 'knife.'"

"You might have made it fifty while you were about it," said Geoffrey.

"Well, you see, the man was not entirely sober, and, after all, ten dollars a word is fair average pay. I never charge more than that."

"You mean that the unfortunate was too sober to be likely to pay any more," said Margaret.

Maurice shrugged his shoulders in deprecation of this idea.

Said Geoffrey: "I often meet Mr. Bean on the street. He is a very idle man; I know by the way he carries his pipe in his mouth."

"What has that to do with it?"

"Everything. He smokes with his pipe in the center of his mouth."

"Well?"

"Well, no one does that unless very old or very idle. Men get the habit from smoking all day while sitting down or lounging. No one can walk hurriedly with his pipe in that position; it would jar his front teeth out. I have noticed that an active man invariably holds his pipe in the side of his mouth, where he can grasp it firmly."

"Hampstead, you should have been a detective."

"Such is genius," said Margaret. "Geoffrey has any quant.i.ty of unprofitable genius."

"That reminds me that I once heard my grandfather telling my father the same thing, but it was not very correct about my father."

"Indeed! By the way, Geoffrey, if it is not an impertinent question for your future wife to ask, who _was_ your grandfather?"

This ignorance on the part of an engaged girl made Maurice cackle.

"Who _is_ he, you mean. He is still alive, I think, and as old as the hills."

"Dear me! How very strange that you never told me of his existence before!"

"His existence is not a very interesting one to me--in fact, quite the reverse; besides I don't think we have ever lacked a more interesting topic, have we Margaret?"

"I imagine not," quoth Rankin dryly. Margaret stopped; she thought there might be something "queer" about this grandfather that Geoffrey might not care to speak about before a third person. She merely said, therefore, intending to drop the matter gently:

"How very old the senior Mr. Hampstead must be?"

"Hampstead is only the family name. The old boy is Lord Warcote. I am a sort of a Radical you know, Margaret, and the truth is I had a quarrel with my family. Only for this, I might have gone into the matter before."

"Never mind going into anything unpleasant. You told my father, of course, that you were a son of Mr. Manson Hampstead, one of the old families in Shropshire. And so you are. We will let it rest at that.

Family differences must always be disagreeable subjects. Let us talk about something else."

"Now we are on the subject, I might as well tell you all about it.

First, I will secure Rankin's secrecy. Behold five cents! Mr. Rankin, I retain you with this sum as my solicitor to advise when called upon concerning the facts I am about to relate. You are bound now by your professional creed not to divulge, are you not?"

"Drive on," said Maurice, "I'm an oyster."

"There is not a great deal to tell," said Geoffrey. "The unpleasant part of it has always made me keep the story entirely to myself. When I came to this continent I was in such a rage with everything and everybody that I abandoned the chance of letters of introduction. n.o.body here knows who I am. I have worked my own way to the exalted position in which you find me. A good while ago my father was in the English diplomatic service, and he still retains, I believe, a responsible post under the Government. Like a good many others, though, he was, although clever, not always quite clever enough, and in one episode of his life, in which I am interested, he failed to have things his own way. For ten years he was in different parts of Russia, where his duties called him.

He had acquired such a profound knowledge of Russian and other languages that these advantages, together with his other gifts, served to keep him longer in a sort of exile for the simple reason that there were few, if any, in the service who could carry out what was required as well as he could himself. From his official duties and his pleasant manner he became well known in Russian society, and he counted among his intimate friends several of the n.o.bility who possessed influence in the country.

After a long series of duties he and some young Russians, to whom pa.s.sports were almost unnecessary, used to make long trips through the country in the mild seasons to shoot and fish. In this way some of the young n.o.bles rid themselves of _ennui_, and reverted by an easy transition to the condition of their immediate ancestors. They had their servants with them, and lived a life of conviviality and luxury even in the wildest regions which they visited. When they entered a small town on these journeyings they did pretty much what they liked, and n.o.body dared to complain at the capital. If a small official provoked or delayed them they horsewhipped him. In fact, what they delighted in was going back to savagery and taking their luxuries with them, dashing over the vast country on fleet horses, making a pandemonium whenever and wherever they liked; in short, in giving full swing to their Tartar and Kalmuck blood. On one occasion my father was feeling wearied to death with red tape, but n.o.body was inclined at the time for another expedition. He therefore obtained leave to go with a military detachment to Semipalatinsk, from which town some prisoners had to be brought back to St. Petersburg. There was little trouble in obtaining his permit, especially as he had been partly over the road before. So he went with his horses and servant as far as the railway would take him, and then joined a band of fifty wild-looking Cossacks and set out. When within a hundred and fifty versts from Semipalatinsk they encountered a warlike band of about twenty-five well mounted Tartars returning from a marauding expedition. They had several horses laden with booty, also some female prisoners. It was the old story of one tribe of savages pillaging another. The Cossacks were out in the wilderness. Although supposed to be under discipline, they were one and all freebooters to the backbone. Their captain, under pretense of seeing right done, allowed an attack to be made by the Cossacks. They drove off the other robbers, ransacked the booty, took what they wanted, and under color of giving protection, took the women also, hoping to dispose of them quietly as slaves at some town. These women were then mounted on several of the pack-horses, and the Cossacks rode off on their journey, leaving everything else on the plain for the other robbers to retake.

"My father had kept aloof from the disturbance. It was none of his business. He sat on his horse and quietly laughed at the whole transaction. He had become very Russian in a good many ways, and he certainly knew what Cossacks were, and that any protest from him would only be useless. It was simply a case of the biter bit. He joined the party as they galloped on to make up for lost time.

"As for the women, it was now nothing to them that their captors had changed. Early in the morning their village had been pillaged and their defenders slain. It was all one to them, now. Slavery awaited them wherever they went. So they sat their horses with their usual ease, veiled their faces, and resigned themselves to their fate. But as the afternoon wore on, the wily captain began to think that my father would certainly see through the marauding escapade of his, and that it would be unpleasant to hear about it again from the authorities, and so he cast about him for the easiest way to deceive or propitiate him. That evening, as my father was sitting in his _kibitka_, the curtain was raised and the captain smilingly led in one of the captive slaves--a woman of extraordinary beauty. And who do you think she was?"

Margaret turned pale. She grasped Geoffrey's arm, as her quick intelligence divined what was coming.

"No, no," she said. "You are not going to tell me that?"

"Yes," said Geoffrey with a pinched expression on his face. "That is just what I am going to tell you. That poor slave--that ignorant and beautiful savage was my mother."

Margaret was thunderstruck. She did not comprehend how things stood, but with a ready solicitude for him in a time of pain, she pa.s.sed her hand through his arm and drew herself closer to him, as they walked along.

As for Maurice, he ground his teeth as he witnessed Margaret's loving solicitude. It was a relief to him to rasp out his dislike for Geoffrey under his breath. "I always knew he was a wolf," he muttered to himself.

"You will see now," continued Geoffrey, "why I preferred not to be known in this country. To be one of a family with a t.i.tle in it did not compensate me for being a thorough savage on my mother's side.

"But I will continue my story. The beauty of the woman attracted my father. He spoke to her kindly in her own language and made her partake of his dinner with him. He thought that in any case he could save her from being sold into slavery by the Cossacks.

"These wild half-brothers of mine took it as a matter of course that my father would be pleased with his acquisition, but they suggested _vodki_ and got it--so that my mother was in reality purchased from them for a few bottles of whisky.

"They went on toward Semipalatinsk and got the prisoners. My father intended to leave the woman at that town, but she wished to see the White Czar and his great city, of which she had heard, and she begged so hard to be taken back with him that he began to think he might as well do so.

"The fact was that a whim seized him to see her dressed as a European, and as they waited at Semipalatinsk for ten days before returning, he had time to have garments made which were as near to the European styles as he could suggest. It was evidently the clothes that decided the matter. In her coa.r.s.e native habiliments she was simply a savage to a fastidious man, but when she was arrayed in a familiar looking dress a.s.sisted by the soft silken fabrics of the East, he was bewitched. She told him, on the journey back, how her father had always counted upon having enough to live on for the rest of his life when she was sold to the traders who purchased slaves for the harems at Constantinople.

"My father took her to St. Petersburg with him, where they lived for three years together. Such a thing as marrying her never entered his head. He simply lived like his friends. I never found out how much she was received in society--no doubt she had all the society she wanted--but I did hear from an old friend of my father, who spoke of her with much respect, that her beauty created the greatest sensation in St.

Petersburg, and that when she went to the theatre the spectators were all like astronomers at a transit of Venus. She made good use of her time, however, and at the end of three years she could speak and write English a little.

"At the end of three years from the time he met her, my father was called back to England. He left her in his house in St. Petersburg with all the money necessary, and came home. I think he intended to go back to her when he got ready. But she settled that question by coming to England herself. She could not bear the separation after three months of waiting. Imagine the scene when she arrived! Lord and Lady Warcote were having a dinner party, when in came my mother, as lovely as a dream, and throwing her arms round my father she forgot her English and addressed him fondly in the Tartar dialect.

"My father, for a moment, was paralyzed; but, in spite of the enervating effect of this exotic's sudden appearance, he could not help feeling proud of her when he saw how magnificent she was in her new Paris costume, and it occurred to him that her wonderful beauty would carry things off with a high hand for a while, until he could perhaps get her back to Russia. She, however, after the moment in which she greeted him, stood up to her full height, and glancing rapidly around the table at all the speechless guests, recognized my grandfather from a photograph she had seen. Lord Warcote was sitting--starchy and speechless--at the end of the table.

"'Ah! zo! Oo are ze little faazer!' And before he could say a word the handsomest woman in England had kissed him, and had taken his hand and patted it."

"Another brisk look around, and she recognized Lady Warcote in the same way. She floated round the table to greet 'dear mutter.' But here she saw she was making a mistake--that everything was not all right. Lady Warcote was not so susceptible to female beauty as she might have been.

She arose from her chair, her face scarlet with anger, and motioned my mother away.

"'Manson,' she said, addressing my father, 'is this woman your wife?'"

"My father had now recovered from his shock, and was laughing til the tears ran down his face. My mother, seeing his merriment, took courage again and said gayly:

"'Yes, yes! He have buy me--for one--two--tree bottle _vodki_.' She counted the numbers on the tips of her fingers, her shapely hands flashing with jewels. Then her laughter chimed merrily in with my father's guffaw. She ran back to him, took his head in both her hands and said, imitating a long-drawn tone of childish earnestness:

"'It was cheap--che-ap. I was wort' more dan _vodki_.'