The Betrayal by E. Phillips Oppenheim (free ebook reader .txt) 📖

Rowchester House, and to my surprise was informed by the servant who answered my inquiries that a room was reserved for me there. I had no sooner reached it than Lady Angela's own maid arrived with a message. Her ladyship would be glad if I could spare her a few moments in the drawing-room as soon as possible.

Lady Angela was standing upon the hearthrug. I stepped a little way across the threshold and stopped short. She held out her hand to me with a quiet laugh.

"Have you forgotten me?" she asked, "or am I so alarming?"

I set my teeth and moved towards her.

"You took my breath away," I said, with an ease which I was very far from feeling. "Remember that I have come from Braster."

I do not know what she wore. Her gown seemed to me to be of some soft crepe or silk, and the colour of it was a smoky misty blue. There were pearls around her neck, and her hair, arranged with exquisite simplicity, seemed to be drawn back from her face and arranged low down on the back of her neck. She had still the fresh delightful colour which had been in her cheeks when she left Braster, and the smile with which she welcomed me was as delightful as ever.

"This is a charming arrangement," she declared. "You know that you are such an important person, and have to be watched so closely, that you are to stay here. I went up myself with the housekeeper to see to your rooms. I do hope that you will be comfortable."

"Comfortable is not the word," I answered. "I have never been used to such luxury."

She laughed.

"Dear me!" she said. "I have so much to tell you, and the carriage is waiting already. Thank goodness we dine alone to-morrow night. But there is one thing which I must tell you at once. Sir Michael Trogoldy is in town, you know. He took me in to dinner at Amberley House last night, and we talked about you."

"I had a letter from Sir Michael a few days ago," I answered. "He made a proposition to me—and asked me to call and see him."

Something in my voice, I suppose, betrayed my feelings. She laid her hand upon my arm.

"Mr. Ducaine," she said, "I do hope that you mean to be reasonable.
Sir Michael is a dear old man."

"He is my mother's brother," I answered, "and he left me to starve."

"He had not the least idea," she declared, "that you were not reasonably well off. He is most interested in hearing about you, and he was delighted to have you accept the allowance he offered you. You will go and see him?"

"Yes, I shall go," I promised. "I scarcely see the use of it, but I will go."

"You must not be foolish," she said softly. "Sir Michael is very rich> and you are his only near relative. Besides, you have had such a lonely time, and it is quite time that you saw a little of the other side of life. Sir Michael is a particular friend of mine, and I promised him that I would talk to you about this. I am most anxious to hear that you get on well together. You can be amiable if you like, you know, and you can be very much the other thing."

"I will try," I assured her, "not to be the other thing." She smiled.

"And tell me all about Braster."

"There is not much to tell," I answered. "I have been hard at work all the time, and I have scarcely seen a soul."

"The woman—Mrs. Smith-Lessing?"

"She left Braster before you. I have not seen her since the evening of the day I saw her last."

She appeared relieved.

"May I ask you a question?" I asked. She nodded. "About Colonel Ray.
Has the Duke forgiven him?"

"On the contrary, he is more bitter than ever," Lady Angela answered. "I have seen him once or twice only. He does not come here." "I saw in the paper," I said, "that your engage—"

"It is not true," she interrupted. "Everything is as it was. But it is shockingly indefinite, of course. I scarcely know whether I am to consider myself an engaged person or not. Colonel Ray offered to release me, but we agreed to wait for a little time."

"Lady Angela!"

She looked at me with a soft flush upon her cheeks. But my words were never spoken. The Duke entered the room, brilliant in sash and orders.

"Good evening, Ducaine," he said, looking at me with slightly lifted eyebrows.

"Good evening, your Grace," I answered in some embarrassment.

"I sent for Mr. Ducaine," Lady Angela remarked, stooping that her maid, who had followed the Duke, might arrange her cloak. "I wanted to hear all about Braster, and I had a message for him from Sir Michael Trogoldy."

The Duke made no remark.

"I shall require you, Ducaine, at ten o'clock to-morrow morning in my study," he said. "Afterwards we go over to the War Office. You have brought all the papers with you?—If you are quite ready, Angela."

The Duke, without saying a word, had managed to make me feel that he considered my presence in the drawing-room with Lady Angela superfluous, but her smile and farewell were quite sufficient recompense for me. Still, I knew that this living together under the same roof was to be no unmixed blessing for me. I shut myself in the dainty little sitting-room which I was told was mine, and turned the key in the door. I felt the need of solitude.

* * * * *

Later in the evening I became mundane again. I remembered that I had sent dinner away, and though I had only to ring the bell and order something, I felt the need of fresh air. So I took up my hat and stick and left the house.

After a while I found my way into Piccadilly. I knew very little of London, but after my solitary evening walks at Braster along the sandhills and across the marshes, the contrast was in itself suggestive and almost exciting. I watched the people, the stream of carriages. I listened to the low ceaseless hum of this wonderful life, and I found it fascinating. The glow in the sky was marvellous to me—the faces of the passers-by, the laughter and the whining, the tears and the cursing, the pleasure-seekers and the pleasure-satiated, how they all told their story as they swept by in one unceasing stream! For a while I forgot even my appetite. The sight of a restaurant, however, at last reminded me that I was desperately hungry.

I knew it by name—a huge cosmopolitan place of the lower middle class, and entering I found a quiet seat, where my country clothes were not conspicuous. There were few people about me, and those few uninteresting, so I kept my attention divided between my dinner and the evening paper. But just as I was drawing towards the close of my meal, something happened to change all that.

A woman, followed by a man, passed my table, and the two seated themselves diagonally opposite to me. Something in the woman's light footsteps, her free movements, and the graceful carriage of her head, struck me instantly as being familiar. She was dressed very plainly, and she was closely veiled. Their entrance, too, had been unobtrusive, almost furtive. But when she raised her veil and took the carte-du-jour in her hand, I knew her at once. It was Mrs. Smith-Lessing.

She had not seen me, and my first impulse was to pay my bill and step quietly out. Then by chance I glanced at her companion, and my heart stood still. He was a tall man, over six feet, but he stooped badly, and his walk had been almost the walk of an invalid. He had the appearance of a man who had once been stout and well built, but who was now barely recovered from a long illness. The flesh hung in little bags underneath his bloodshot eyes, his mouth twitched continually, and the hand which rested on the table trembled. He wore a scanty grey moustache, which failed to hide a weak thin mouth, and a very obvious wig concealed his baldness. His clothes had seen plenty of service and his linen was doubtful. He had evidently ordered some brandy immediately on his entrance, and his eyes met mine just as he was in the act of raising the glass to his lips. I am convinced that he had no idea then who I was, but the earnestness of my gaze seemed to disturb him. He set down his glass with shaking fingers, and directed his companion's attention towards me.

They talked together earnestly for several moments. I fancied that she was reproving him for showing alarm at my notice. Very soon, however, she herself, after giving an order to a waiter, turned slightly round in her chair, and glanced with well-affected carelessness across at me. I saw her start and look apprehensively at her companion. He took the alarm at once, and I heard his eager question.

"Who is it? Who is it, Maud?"

She made him some reassuring answer, and, rising to her feet, came over to my table. I rose to greet her, and she slipped quietly into the chair opposite to me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quickly.

"I have just arrived from Braster," I answered. "I came here by accident to get something to eat. Is that—"

I could not go on, but she finished the sentence for me.

"Yes!"

I set my teeth hard and looked steadily down at the tablecloth. I felt rather than saw that her regard was compassionate.

"I am sorry," she murmured. "I would not have brought him here if I had known. You two are better apart. Talk to me as naturally as you can. He has no idea who you are."

"Has he been ill?" I asked.

"Very. I found him in a hospital. He has been ill, and the rest you can guess."

Even while we were talking I saw him toss off another glass of brandy which the waiter had brought him. And all the time his eyes never left my face.

"I thought," I said, "that he had money."

"It has all gone," she answered, "and—well, things are not very flourishing with him. Our mission over here has been unsuccessful, and they have stopped sending us money from Paris. How queer that I should be telling you this!" she added, with a hard little laugh, "you, of all people in the world. Guy, take my advice. Get up and go. If he guesses who you are he will come and speak to you—and you are better apart."

It was too late. With fascinated eyes I watched him leave his place and come towards us. I was absolutely powerless to move. Mrs. Smith-Lessing had left the outside chair vacant. He sank into it and leaned across the table towards me.

"It is Guy," he said in a shaking voice. "I am sure that it is Guy.
She has told you who I am. Eh?"

"Yes," I answered. "I know who you are."

He extended a shaking hand across the table. I could not take it.

"Well, well," he said nervously, "perhaps you are right. But I came to
England to see you. Yes, Guy, that is the truth! I have been a bad
father, but I may be able to make amends. I think I know a way.—
Waiter, a glass of brandy."

"I am afraid," I said, rising to my feet, "that you must excuse me.—If you have anything to say to me, sir, we can meet another time."

He almost dragged me down.

"Stop, stop!" he said irritably. "You do not seem to understand. I had an important matter of business to discuss with you. I may make your fortune yet, my boy! I have powerful friends abroad, very powerful."

I looked at him steadily.

"Well?"

She laid her hand upon his arm, and whispered in his ear. He only shook his head angrily.

"Nonsense, Maud!" he exclaimed. "You do not understand. This is my son Guy. Of course we must talk together. It is a wonderful meeting—yes, a wonderful meeting."

"Well?" I repeated.

"I am glad to hear," he continued, "that you