The Profiteers Part 25

"Still, I am going to try. You are a great admirer of my wife, I believe, Mr. Wingate?"

Wingate frowned slightly.

"I prefer not to discuss Lady Dredlinton with you," he said curtly.

"Still, you won't mind going so far as to say that you are an admirer of hers?" the latter persisted.

"Well?"

"You are probably her confidant in the unfortunate differences which have arisen between us?"

"If I were, I should not consider it my business to inform you."

"Your sympathy is without doubt on her side?"

Wingate changed his att.i.tude.

"Look here," he said, "this subject is not of my choosing. I should have preferred to avoid it. Since you press me, however, I haven't the faintest hesitation in saying that I look upon your wife as one of the sweetest and best women I ever knew, married, unfortunately, to a person utterly unworthy of her."

Dredlinton started in his place. A little streak of colour flushed up to his eyes.

"What the devil do you mean by that?"

"Look here," Wingate expostulated, "you can't threaten me, Dredlinton.

You asked for what you got. Why not save time and explain why you have dragged your wife's name into this business?"

Dredlinton, in his peculiar way, was angry. His speech was a little broken, his eyes glittered.

"Explain? My G.o.d, I will! You are one of those d.a.m.ned frauds, Wingate, who pose as a purist and don't hesitate to make capital out of the harmless differences which sometimes arise between husband and wife. You sympathise with Lady Dredlinton, eh?"

"I should sympathise with any woman who was your wife," Wingate a.s.sured him, his own temper rising.

Dredlinton leaned a little forward. He spoke with a vicious distinctness.

"You sympathise with her to such an extent that you lure her to your rooms at midnight and send her back when you've--"

Dredlinton's courage oozed out before he had finished his speech. Wingate had swung around towards his companion, and there was something terrifying in his att.i.tude.

"You scoundrel!" he exclaimed.

Dredlinton drew a little farther back and kept his finger upon the bell.

"Look here," he said viciously, "you may as well drop those heroics. I am not talking at random. My wife was seen in your arms, in your rooms at the Milan Court, with her dressing case on the table, last night, by little Flossie Lane, your latest conquest in the musical comedy world.

She spent the night at the Milan."

"It's a lie!" Wingate declared, with cold fury. "How the devil could Flossie Lane see anything of the sort? She was nowhere near my rooms."

"Oh, yes, she was!" Dredlinton a.s.sured him. "She just looked in--one look was quite enough. Didn't you hear the door slam?"

"My G.o.d!" Wingate muttered, with a sudden instinct of recollection.

"Perhaps you wonder why she came?" the other continued. "I will tell you. I followed my wife to the Milan--I thought it might be worth while.

I saw her enter the lift and come up to your room. While I was hesitating as to what to do, I met Flossie. Devilish clever idea of mine! I determined to kill two birds with one stone. I told her you'd been enquiring for her--that you were alone in your rooms and would like to see her. She went up like a two-year-old. Jove, you ought to have seen her face when she came down!"

"You cad!" Wingate exclaimed. "Your wife simply came to beg my intervention with the management to secure her a room in the--"

"Chuck it!" Dredlinton interrupted. "You're a man of the world. You know very well that I can get a divorce, and I'm going to have it--if I want it. I am meeting Flossie Lane at midday at my solicitor's. What have you got to say about that?"

"That if you keep your word it will be a very happy release for your wife," Wingate replied drily.

Dredlinton leaned across the desk. There was an almost satyrlike grin upon his face.

"You are a fool," he said. "My wife wants to get rid of me--you and she have talked that over, I have no doubt--but not this way. She is a proud woman, Wingate. The one desire of her life is to be free, but you can take this from me--if I bring my suit and gain my decree on the evidence I shall put before the court---don't forget Flossie Lane, will you?--she'll never raise her head again. That is what I am going to do, unless--"

He paused.

"Unless what?" Wingate demanded.

"Unless you sell those shares to Peter Phipps."

Wingate was silent for a few moments. He studied his companion appraisingly.

"Dredlinton," he said at last, "I did you an injustice."

"I am glad that you are beginning to appreciate the fact," the other replied, with some dignity. "I welcome your confession."

"I looked upon you," Wingate continued, "as only an ordinary, weak sort of scoundrel. I find you one of the filthiest blackguards who ever crawled upon the earth."

Dredlinton scowled for a moment and then laughed in a hard, unnatural sort of way.

"I can't lose my temper with you, Wingate--upon my word, I can't. You are so delightfully crude and refreshing. Your style, however, is a little more suited to your own country, don't you think--the Far West and that sort of thing. Shall I draft a little agreement that you will sell the shares to Phipps? Just a line or two will be sufficient."

Wingate made no reply. He walked across to the frosted window and gazed out of the upper panes up to the sky. Presently he returned.

"Where is your wife?" he asked.

"She telephoned from the Milan this morning, discovered that the young lady to whom she had such unfounded objections had left, and returned in a taxi just before I started for the office."

"Supposing I sell these shares?"

"Then," Dredlinton promised, "I shall endeavour to forget the incident of last night. Further than that, I might indeed be tempted, if it were made worth my while, to provide my wife with a more honourable mode of escape."

"You're wonderful," Wingate declared, nodding his head quickly. "What are you going to get for blackmailing me into selling those shares?"

"Two thousand pounds."

"Get along and earn it, then."

Dredlinton wrote in silence for several moments. Then he read the doc.u.ment over to himself.