The Master of the Ceremonies Part 91

"Yes. Horrors!" exclaimed her ladyship. "Or no, never mind; let him come up. I have called to inspect some of your china--these Sevres jars."

Barclay nodded to his man, who left the room; and, in support of her ladyship's suggestion, the money-lender was saying: "It's an opportunity, my dear madam, that does not often occur; the workmanship is unique," when Lord Carboro' was shown in, and his keen eyes glittered as he took in the situation at a glance.

"Ah, Lady Drelincourt, you here!"

"Yes, I'm here," she said, "but I've not come to borrow money; have you?"

"Yes," said his lordship sharply. "Barclay, a word with you."

The money-lender bowed.

"Don't change countenance," said his lordship, "and talk about money.

Get out your cash-box, and make believe to give me some."

Lady Drelincourt walked to the window with a small vase, and took out her great, square, gold-rimmed eye-gla.s.s.

"Money's very tight just now, my lord," said Barclay aloud.

"That's right," said his lordship, in a low tone. "Look here, Barclay.

I'd have waited till that old cat had gone, but time's precious. Look here. I've had a nasty hint that hits me very hard. You'll call me an old fool. Well, I am; but never mind. I shall never have her, but I love that girl of Denville's, and, damme, sir, I can't see her go to the bad without stretching out a hand."

"What have you heard, my lord?" said Barclay, rattling his keys and opening his cash-box.

"There's some cursed plan afloat--elopement, or that sort of thing-- to-night, I think; and we must stop it."

"We, my lord!" said Barclay, jingling some coin.

"Yes, we. You're an old friend of Denville's. I can't go to him."

"Who's the man?" said Barclay.

"Rockley, I think; curse him! Curse all these young, handsome men!

Damme, sir, if I were forty years younger I'd be proud to marry her, for she's a good girl--yes, sir, a good girl."

Barclay nodded.

"But of course I can't expect her to take to a toothless, gouty old imbecile like me, poor child."

"What do you know, my lord?"

"Oh, only a garbled set-out. I'm not quite sure how things are; and sometimes it seems that it's Sir Harry Payne, sometimes it seems to be Rockley. Now, look here, Barclay. Will you try with me to stop it? I couldn't bear it to come off. If the girl were going to the church with some true-hearted fellow, I should feel a twinge, but I'd settle a thousand or two on her, and say, 'G.o.d bless her!' like a man; but I can't see her go to the bad without making an effort to save her.

Barclay, you old scoundrel, you're laughing at me, and calling me an idiot for taking you into my confidence like this."

"You don't think so, my lord," said Barclay sternly; "and you give me credit for being an honest man, or you would not talk to me in this way."

"Honest?"

"Yes," said Barclay sharply. "Am I dishonest for making all the profit I can out of a set of profligates and fools?"

"Barclay," said his lordship, "if that old cat were not here I'd shake hands with you; as it is, that kick under the table means it. Yes, I do trust you, and your good-hearted wife, too. Will you help me?"

"In every way I can," said Barclay. "Between ourselves, Lord Carboro', I've had a hint or two of an elopement to-night, and I'm going to see what it means."

"You have had a hint?" said Lord Carboro' eagerly.

"Yes, my lord. I must have twenty-five per cent. The risk is too great," added Barclay aloud. "Drelincourt's looking," he said in a low tone. "I'm not sure who it is yet, or what it means; but there's something on the way, and I'll help your lordship all I can."

"That's right, Barclay. I know you have wires all over the place, and can pull them. You started Moggridge, and I suppose, if the truth's known, you could arrange for a post-chaise to break down anywhere you pleased."

"Your lordship gives me credit for being quite a magician," said Barclay drily. "However, I'll promise you this: Claire Denville shan't come to harm if Josiah Barclay can save her."

"Thank you, Barclay," said Lord Carboro' softly. "I've not forgotten how she refused those pearls."

"And cheated me out of a score of good jewel transactions with your lordship," said Barclay, handing him a slip of paper and a pen, which the old n.o.bleman took and signed in Lady Drelincourt's full view. "You trust to me, my lord. I'll make all the inquiries necessary, and communicate with you to-night."

There was a little mock exchange of papers, and then, pocket-book in hand, Lord Carboro' turned to Lady Drelincourt.

"I have finished my business," he said. "Shall I attend you down to your chair?"

As the couple went out of the room with her ladyship mincing and simpering, and giving herself airs, Barclay uttered a low growl.

"I believe that old woman would make love to a mummy or a stone statue if she couldn't meet with a man. How I do hate the old wretch to be sure!"

"Now look here, Jo-si-ah," exclaimed Mrs Barclay, entering the room.

"I won't have it, though I don't believe it's true."

"Don't believe what's true?"

"That when anyone is by himself and talking aloud, he is holding a conversation with--there I won't say whom."

"Pish!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Barclay angrily. "There, sit down, woman, and make an entry about Lady Drelincourt's diamonds and the money I've lent on them. Set 'em down in the jewel book and then lock them up in the case.

It wouldn't do to lose them."

"Like her sister's were lost," said Mrs Barclay. "I wonder what became of them, Jo-si-ah."

She opened the case, examined the jewels, and then opened a cabinet and an iron safe within, where she deposited the valuables, afterwards making an entry in a book kept for the purpose, and another in the big ledger.

"That's done," she said with a sigh of content. "Why, Jo-si-ah, what a rich man you are getting."

"Stuff! Don't talk nonsense."

"I say, dear," she said, "I wonder how it is that Claire Denville hasn't been here for so long. It seems strange. Here's somebody else."

The visitors proved to be Sir Harry Payne with Sir Matthew Bray, Mrs Barclay hurrying out to leave them with her husband.

"Well, gentlemen?" said Barclay drily.

"No, Barclay, it isn't well," cried Sir Harry, "nor will it be till I've got a couple of hundred pounds out of you."