The Wicked Marquis Part 4

"Well," she asked, "and how has the great trial ended?"

"Adversely," the Marquis confessed.

"You foolish person," she sighed, lighting the cigarette and throwing the match away. "Of course you were bound to lose, and I suppose it's cost you no end of money."

"I believe," he admitted, a little stiffly, "that my lawyers are somewhat depressed at the amount."

She smoked in silence for a moment.

"So he will go back to Mandeleys. It is a queer little fragment of life. What on earth does he want to do it for?"

"Obstinacy," the Marquis declared,--"sheer, brutal, ignorant obstinacy."

"And the boy?" she asked, pursuing her own train of thought. "Have you heard anything of him?"

"Nothing. To tell you the truth, I have made no enquiries. Beyond the fact that it seems as though, for the present, Richard Vont will have his way, I take no interest in either of them."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"If only we others," she sighed, "could infuse into our lives something of the marvellous persistence of these people whom in other respects we have left so far behind!"

"My dear Marcia," he protested, "surely, with your remarkable intelligence, you can see that such persistence is merely a form of narrow-mindedness. Your father has shut in his life and driven it along one narrow groove. To you every day brings its fresh sensation, its fresh object. Hence--coupled, of course, with your natural gifts--your success. The person who thinks of but one thing in life must be indeed a dull dog."

"Very excellent reasoning," she admitted. "Still, to come back to this little tragedy--for it is a tragedy, isn't it?--have you any idea what he means to do when he gets to Mandeleys?"

"None at all!"

"Let me see," she went on, "it is nineteen years ago last September, isn't it?--nineteen years out of the middle of his life. Will he sit in the garden and brood, I wonder, or has he brought back with him some scheme of mediaeval revenge?"

"There was a time," the Marquis reflected, "when several of my Irish tenants used to shoot at me every Sat.u.r.day night from behind a hedge.

It was not in the least a dangerous operation, and I presume it brought them some relief. With Vont, however, things would be different. I remember him distinctly as a most wonderful shot."

"Psychologically," Marcia Hannaway observed, "his present action is interesting. If he had shot you or me in his first fit of pa.s.sionate resentment, everything would have been in order, but to leave the country, nurse a sullen feeling of revenge for years, and then come back, seems curious. What shall you do when you see him sitting in his garden?"

"I shall address him," the Marquis replied. "I fear that his long residence in such a country as America will have altered him considerably, but it is of course possible that the instincts of his cla.s.s remain."

"How feudal you are!" she laughed.

The Marquis frowned slightly. Although this was the one person in the world whom he felt was necessary to him, who held a distinct place in his very inaccessible heart, there were times when he entertained a dim suspicion that she was making fun of him. At such times he was very angry indeed.

"In any case," he said, "we will not waste our time in speculating upon this man's att.i.tude. I am still hoping that I may be able to devise means to render his occupancy of the cottage impossible."

"I should like to hear about the boy."

"If," the Marquis promised, "I find Vont's att.i.tude respectful, I will make enquiries."

"When are you going to Mandeleys?" she asked.

"I am in no hurry to leave London," he replied.

"When you go," she told him, "I have made up my mind to take a little holiday. I thought even of going to the South of France."

The lines of her companion's forehead were slightly elevated.

"My dear Marcia," he protested gently, "is that like you? The cla.s.s of people who frequent the Riviera at this time of the year--"

She laughed at him delightfully.

"Oh, you foolish person!" she interrupted. "If I go, I shall go to a tiny little boarding house, or take a villa in one of the quiet places--San Raphael, perhaps, or one of those little forgotten spots between Hyres and Cannes. Phillis Grant would go with me. She isn't going to act again until the autumn season."

Her visitor's expression was a little blank.

"In the case of your departure from London," he announced, in a very even but very forlorn tone, "I will instruct Mr. Wadham to make a suitable addition to your allowance. At the same time, Marcia," he added, "I shall miss you."

His words were evidently a surprise to her. She threw away her cigarette and came and sat on the sofa by his side.

"Do you know, I believe you would," she murmured, resting her hand upon his. "How queer!"

"I have never concealed my affection for you, have I?" he asked.

This time the laugh which broke from her lips was scarcely natural.

"Concealed your affection, Reginald!" she repeated. "How strangely that sounds! But listen. You said something just now about my allowance. If I allude to it in return, will you believe that it is entirely for your sake?"

"Of course!"

She rose from her chair and, crossing the room, rummaged about her desk for a moment, produced a letter, and brought it to him. The Marquis adjusted his horn-rimmed eyegla.s.s and read:

_Dear Madam_:

We feel that some explanation is due to you with regard to the non-payment for the last two quarters of your allowance from our client, the Marquis of Mandeleys. We have to inform you that for some time past we have had no funds in our possession to pay this allowance.

We informed his lordship of the fact, some time back, but in our opinion his lordship scarcely took the circ.u.mstance seriously. We think it better, therefore, that you should communicate with him on the subject.

Faithfully yours, WADHAM, SON AND d.i.c.kSON.

The Marquis deliberately folded up the letter, placed his eyegla.s.s in his pocket, and sat looking into the fire. There was very little change in his face. Only Marcia, to whom he had been the study of a lifetime, knew that so far as suffering was possible to him, he was suffering at that moment.

"You mustn't think it matters," she said gently. "You know my last novel was quite a wonderful success, and for that article in the _Nineteenth_ you were looking at, they gave me twenty guineas. I am really almost opulent. Still, I thought it was better for you to know this. The same thing might refer to other and more important matters, and you know, dear, you are rather inclined to walk with your head in the air where money matters are concerned."

"You have been very considerate, but foolishly so, my dear Marcia," he declared. "This matter must be put right at once. I fear that a younger element has obtruded itself into the firm of Wadham, an element which scarcely grasps the true position. I will see these people, Marcia."

"You are not to worry about it," she begged softly. "To tell you the truth--"

Marcia was a brave woman, and the moment had come up to which she had been leading for so long, which for many months, even years, had been in her mind. And when it came she faltered. There was something in the superb, immutable poise of the man who bent a little courteously towards her, which checked the words upon her lips.

"It will be no trouble to me, Marcia, to set this little affair right,"

he a.s.sured her. "I am only glad that your circ.u.mstances have been such that you have not been inconvenienced. At the same time, is it entirely necessary for you to manipulate that hideous machine yourself?" he enquired, inclining his head towards the typewriter.