The Beetle Richard Marsh (most romantic novels TXT) 📖

While they were ascertaining which suit of clothes would be best adapted to his figure, I went with Sydney to my room. So soon as we were in, I let him know that this was not a matter in which I intended to be trifled with.

“Of course you understand, Sydney, that I am coming with you.”

He pretended not to know what I meant.

“Coming with me?⁠—I am delighted to hear it⁠—but where?”

“To the house of which Mr. Holt has been speaking.”

“Nothing could give me greater pleasure, but⁠—might I point out?⁠—Mr. Holt has to find it yet?”

“I will come to help you to help him find it.”

Sydney laughed⁠—but I could see he did not altogether relish the suggestion.

“Three in a hansom?”

“There is such a thing as a four-wheeled cab⁠—or I could order a carriage if you’d like one.”

Sydney looked at me out of the corners of his eyes; then began to walk up and down the room, with his hands in his trouser pockets. Presently he began to talk nonsense.

“I need not say with what a sensation of joy I should anticipate the delights of a drive with you⁠—even in a four-wheeled cab; but, were I in your place, I fancy that I should allow Holt and your humble servant to go hunting out this house of his alone. It may prove a more tedious business than you imagine. I promise that, after the hunt is over, I will describe the proceedings to you with the most literal accuracy.”

“I daresay.⁠—Do you think I don’t know you’ve been deceiving me all the time?”

“Deceiving you?⁠—I!”

“Yes⁠—you! Do you think I’m quite an idiot?”

“My dear Marjorie!”

“Do you think I can’t see that you know all about what Mr. Holt has been telling us⁠—perhaps more about it than he knows himself?”

“On my word!⁠—With what an amount of knowledge you do credit me.”

“Yes, I do⁠—or discredit you, rather. If I were to trust you, you would tell me just as much as you chose⁠—which would be nothing. I’m coming with you⁠—so there’s an end.”

“Very well.⁠—Do you happen to know if there are any revolvers in the house?”

“Revolvers?⁠—whatever for?”

“Because I should like to borrow one. I will not conceal from you⁠—since you press me⁠—that this is a case in which a revolver is quite likely to be required.”

“You are trying to frighten me.”

“I am doing nothing of the kind, only, under the circumstances, I am bound to point out to you what it is you may expect.”

“Oh, you think that you’re bound to point that out, do you⁠—then now your bounden duty’s done. As for there being any revolvers in the house, papa has a perfect arsenal⁠—would you like to take them all?”

“Thanks, but I daresay I shall be able to manage with one⁠—unless you would like one too. You may find yourself in need of it.”

“I am obliged to you, but, on this occasion, I don’t think I’ll trouble. I’ll run the risk.⁠—Oh, Sydney, what a hypocrite you are!”

“It’s for your sake, if I seem to be. I tell you most seriously, that I earnestly advise you to allow Mr. Holt and I to manage this affair alone. I don’t mind going so far as to say that this is a matter with which, in days to come, you will wish that you had not allowed yourself to be associated.”

“What do you mean by that? Do you dare to insinuate anything against⁠—Paul?”

“I insinuate nothing. What I mean, I say right out; and, my dear Marjorie, what I actually do mean is this⁠—that if, in spite of my urgent solicitations, you will persist in accompanying us, the expedition, so far as I am concerned, will be postponed.”

“That is what you do mean, is it? Then that’s settled.” I rang the bell. The servant came. “Order a four-wheeled cab at once. And let me know the moment Mr. Holt is ready.” The servant went. I turned to Sydney. “If you will excuse me, I will go and put my hat on. You are, of course, at liberty to please yourself as to whether you will or will not go, but, if you don’t, then I shall go with Mr. Holt alone.”

I moved to the door. He stopped me.

“My dear Marjorie, why will you persist in treating me with such injustice? Believe me, you have no idea what sort of adventure this is which you are setting out upon⁠—or you would hear reason. I assure you that you are gratuitously proposing to thrust yourself into imminent peril.”

“What sort of peril? Why do you beat about the bush⁠—why don’t you speak right out?”

“I can’t speak right out, there are circumstances which render it practically impossible⁠—and that’s the plain truth⁠—but the danger is none the less real on that account. I am not jesting⁠—I am in earnest; won’t you take my word for it?”

“It is not a question of taking your word only⁠—it is a question of something else beside. I have not forgotten my adventures of last night⁠—and Mr. Holt’s story is mysterious enough in itself; but there is something more mysterious still at the back of it⁠—something which you appear to suggest points unpleasantly at Paul. My duty is clear, and nothing you can say will turn me from it. Paul, as you are very well aware, is already over-weighted with affairs of state, pretty nearly borne down by them⁠—or I would take the tale to him, and he would talk to you after a fashion of his own. Things being as they are, I propose to show you that, although I am not yet Paul’s wife, I can make his interests my own as completely as though I were. I can, therefore, only repeat that it is for you to decide what you intend to do; but, if you prefer to stay, I shall go with Mr. Holt⁠—alone.”

“Understand that, when the time for regret comes⁠—as it will come!⁠—you are not to blame me for having done what I advised you not to do.”

“My dear Mr. Atherton, I will undertake to do my utmost to guard your spotless reputation; I