The Unspeakable Gentleman Part 30

"Ah," said my father, "there is a woman for you. My son, in the side pocket of my coat you will find a snuff box. Would you kindly open it for me and permit me to take a pinch? And you, perhaps? No? It is a pleasant sedative."

He took a step nearer the rail, and the men about the long boat stiffened to attention.

"Get them into the boat, Mr. Aiken," he said, "You and I will sit in the stern, my son. Your arm, Brutus, so."

"Stand by to lower away," directed Mr. Aiken in a harsh undertone; and the blocks creaked and we were in the river.

The oars had been m.u.f.fled, so that we moved to the wharf in silence.

"Land the men, and tell them to wait," said my father. "You shall come with us, Mr. Aiken, and you, my son, and you, Brutus."

We walked silently up the path, with Brutus and my father in the lead.

Once he paused and listened, and then proceeded forward.

"I believe," said my father, "he is quite alone. Ha!"

He had stopped dead, and Brutus had leapt forward, crashing into a dense thicket of overgrown bushes.

"Put up your pistol, Ned," said my father. "Brutus has him."

There was a moment's silence, followed by a faint cry.

"Bring him here, Brutus," said my father. The bushes cracked again, and Brutus was back.

"Now who the devil may you be?" inquired my father, striding towards the figure that Brutus was holding, and then he paused, and in the dark I fancied he was reaching for his coat lapel.

"Lunacy, thy name is woman," said my father softly. "Will they never stay where they are placed?"

It was Mademoiselle whom Brutus had thrust before him.

"I came in the boat," she stammered brokenly. "I--"

"You wanted to see the end, my lady?" my father inquired. "Surely you should have known better, but it is too late now. You are going to be present at a harrowing scene, which I hoped to save you. Mr. Aiken, help the lady over the path."

And we proceeded to the house together. A minute later we made our way over the rough, unkempt gra.s.s which once marked our brick terrace.

Brutus opened the door and we were in the dark hall, lighted by a square of candle light from the morning room. He paused again and listened, and then strode across the threshold. A blaze was burning high in the morning fireplace, and six candles were lighted on the center table, and seated before it, examining my father's papers, were my Uncle Jason and Mr. Lawton.

"Ha!" cried Mr. Lawton, springing to his feet and eyeing my father intently. "So you are here, Shelton, and every card in the deck."

He paused to nod and rub his hands.

"Yes, b'gad! There's the girl and there's the boy and there's the n.i.g.g.e.r.

It was Sims' idea your getting on the boat. He's bright as a trap, Jason.

I told you he was."

My father sighed a little sadly.

"He was indeed," he admitted.

My uncle surveyed him with his broadest smile, and his eyes twinkled with a malign amus.e.m.e.nt, that was not wholly pleasant.

"So here you are, George," he cried in a voice that seemed to shake with excitement. "G.o.d help you, but I won't or your son either, no, or the lady."

"Indeed?" inquired my father. "Pray go on, Jason. I had forgotten you were diverting, or is it one of your latest virtues."

A slight crease appeared between my uncle's eyes, and his face became a trifle redder.

"So you still are jovial," he said. "I admire you for it, George. Yes, I admire you, because of course you know what is going to happen to you, George, and to your son also. Perhaps you will wipe away that smirk of yours when a French firing squad backs you against a wall."

My father adjusted the bandage on his arm, and smiled, but his eyes had become bright and gla.s.sy.

"So you have quite decided to send me to France, Jason?" he inquired pleasantly. "Of course, I suspected it from the first. I knew you hated me, and naturally my son. I knew you never felt the same after our little falling out, when I found you forging--what am I saying?--reading the letter I sent to Mr. Aiken. Gad! but your face was pasty then, you sly dog--"

He paused and took a step toward him. He was a different man when he continued. It seemed as though some resistance in him was breaking down, as though the years of repression were falling away. A hot, dull red had come into his cheeks, and burned there like a fever. His whole body trembled, shaken by some emotion which I could not fathom. His voice grew sharp and discordant, his words hot and triumphant.

"Almost as pasty as when you challenged me to produce those d.a.m.ned bales of fur. Do you remember, Jason? The party here at this house--the music, the flowers? Oh, they were all there! And of course I had put the shavings on my boat. You could prove it, and you could too, Lawton, do you remember? And you could swear to it, and you could swear I had cheated you before, that I had stolen your card money. Oh, you caught me.

You brought the wolf to bay and drew the sword of justice!"

Mr. Lawton half started from his seat.

"Be still, Shelton," he snapped, "or I'll have them gag you."

My father clenched his fist, drew a deep breath, and his voice lost its strident note.

"Ah, Lawton, Lawton," he said. "Will you always be impetuous? Will you never be subtle, but always crude, always the true rough diamond with the keen edge? No, you won't gag me, Lawton.

"And so you will send me to France, Jason, and my son too, criminals to justice. It is thoughtful of you to think of justice, but tell me, Jason.

Is it I you hate, or my wife's money that you love? Tell me, Jason, I have often wondered."

My uncle's face also became a flaming red; the veins stood out on his temples. He tried to speak, but his words choked him.

"Sims," shouted Mr. Lawton. "Sims! Take him out! Take him away!"

My father raised his eyes to the ceiling and sighed.

"Ah Lawton," he said. "Is it possible that you did not know it? Can it be that you do not understand? Poor Sims is dead, Lawton, a brave man, but not of good physique. The evening was quite too much for him. Do not take it so hard, man! We all must die, you among the rest. You should have known me better, Lawton. You should have known I would not allow myself to be taken prisoner."

"What!" shouted Mr. Lawton. "What the devil are you then?"

The scene appeared to move my father, for he sighed again, and paused, the better to enjoy it.

"Only a poor man," he said, "only a poor chattel of the Lord's, a poor frail jug that has gone too often to the well. A poor man of a blackened reputation, who has been set upon by spies of France, and threatened in his own house, but who has managed to escape--" and his voice became sharp and hard.

"Take Mr. Lawton's pistol, Ned."

There fell a moment's silence in the room while my father, a little in advance of the rest of us, stared fixedly into my uncle's eyes.

"Set upon by spies," he said, "persecuted and driven. It has set me thinking, Jason. As I walked back here tonight, I still was thinking, and can you imagine what was on my mind? It was you, Jason, you and Lawton.

And as I thought of you, my mind fell, as it naturally would, on holy things, and a piece of the Scripture came back to me. Think of it, Jason, a piece of the Holy Writ. Would you care to hear it?"