"I know it is, and I know also that it is worth your while to pay thirty thousand pounds to save yourself from the scandal, the chance of disinheritance, and the certainty of the loss of the woman whom you want to marry. So well do I know it that I have prepared the necessary deeds for your signature, and here they are. Listen, sir," he went on sternly; "refuse to accept my terms and by to-night"s post I shall send this letter of instructions. Also I shall send to Mr. Cossey, Senior, and to Mr. de la Molle copies of these two precious epistles,"
and he pointed to the incriminating doc.u.ments, "together with a copy of the letter to my agents; and where will you be then? Consent, and I will bind myself not to proceed in any way or form. Now, make your choice."
"But I cannot; even if I will, I cannot," said he, almost wringing his hands in his perplexity. "It was on condition of my taking up those mortgages that Ida consented to become engaged to me, and I have promised that I will cancel them on our wedding. Will you not take money instead?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Quest, "I would take money. A little time ago I would not have taken it because I wanted that property; now I have changed my ideas. But as you yourself said, your credit is strained to the utmost, and while your father is alive you will not find it possible to raise another thirty thousand pounds. Besides, if this matter is to be settled at all it must be settled at once. I will not wait while you make attempts to raise the money."
"But about the mortgages? I promised to keep them. What shall I say to Ida?"
"Say? Say nothing. You can meet them if you choose after your father"s death. Refuse if you like, but if you refuse you will be mad. Thirty thousand pounds will be nothing to you, but exposure will be ruin.
Have you made up your mind? You must take my offer or leave it. Sign the doc.u.ments and I will put the originals of those two letters into your hands; refuse and I will take my steps."
Edward Cossey thought for a moment and then said, "I will sign. Let me see the papers."
Mr. Quest turned aside to hide the expression of triumph which flitted across his face and then handed him the deeds. They were elaborately drawn, for he was a skilful legal draughtsman, quite as skilful as many a leading Chancery conveyancer, but the substance of them was that the mortgages were transferred to him by the said Edward Cossey in and for the consideration that he, the said William M. Quest, consented to abandon for ever a pending action for divorce against his wife, Belle Quest, whereto the said Edward Cossey was to be joined as co-respondent.
"You will observe," said Mr. Quest, "that if you attempt to contest the validity of this a.s.signment, which you probably could not do with any prospect of success, the attempt must recoil upon your own head, because the whole scandal will then transpire. We shall require some witnesses, so with your permission I will ring the bell and ask the landlady and your servant to step up. They need know nothing of the contents of the papers," and he did so.
"Stop," said Edward presently. "Where are the original letters?"
"Here," answered Mr. Quest, producing them from an inner pocket, and showing them to him at a distance. "When the landlady comes up I will give them to her to hold in this envelope, directing her to hand them to you when the deeds are signed and witnessed. She will think that it is part of the ceremony."
Presently the man-servant and the landlady arrived, and Mr. Quest, in his most matter-of-fact way, explained to them that they were required to witness some doc.u.ments. At the same time he handed the letters to the woman, saying that she was to give them to Mr. Cossey when they had all done signing.
Then Edward Cossey signed, and placing his thumb on the familiar wafer delivered the various doc.u.ments as his act and deed. The witnesses with much preparation and effort affixed their awkward signatures in the places pointed out to them, and in a few minutes the thing was done, leaving Mr. Quest a richer man by thirty thousand pounds than when he had got up that morning.
"Now give Mr. Cossey the packet, Mrs. Jeffries," he said, as he blotted the signatures, "and you can go." She did so and went.
When the witnesses had gone Edward looked at the letters, and then with a savage oath flung them into the fire and watched them burn.
"Good-morning, Mr. Cossey," said Mr. Quest as he prepared to part with the deeds. "You have now bought your experience and had to pay dearly for it; but, upon my word, when I think of all you owe me, I wonder at myself for letting you off at so small a price."
As soon as he had gone, Edward Cossey gave way to his feelings in language forcible rather than polite. For now, in addition to all the money which he had lost, and the painful exposure to which he had been subjected, he was face to face with a new difficulty. Either he must make a clean breast of it to Ida about the mortgages being no longer in his hands or he must pretend that he still had them. In the first alternative, the consideration upon which she had agreed to marry him came to nothing. Moreover, Ida was thereby released from her promise, and he was well aware that under these circ.u.mstances she would probably break off the engagement. In the second, he would be acting a lie, and the lie would sooner or later be discovered, and what then?
Well, if it was after marriage, what would it matter? To a woman of gentle birth there is only one thing more irretrievable than marriage, and that is death. Anyhow, he had suffered so much for the sake of this woman that he did not mean to give her up now. He must meet the mortgages after marriage, that was all.
/Facilis est descensus Averni/. When a man of the character of Edward Cossey, or indeed of any character, allows his pa.s.sions to lead him into a course of deceit, he does not find it easy to check his wild career. From dishonour to dishonour shall he go till at length, in due season, he reaps as he has sown.
CHAPTER XXVIII
HOW GEORGE TREATED JOHNNIE
Some two or three days before the scene described in the last chapter the faithful George had suddenly announced his desire to visit London.
"What?" said the Squire in astonishment, for George had never been known to go out of his own county before. "Why, what on earth are you going to do in London?"
"Well, Squire," answered his retainer, looking marvellously knowing, "I don"t rightly know, but there"s a cheap train goes up to this here Exhibition on the Tuesday morning and comes back on the Thursday evening. Ten shillings both ways, that"s the fare, and I see in the /Chronicle/, I du, that there"s a wonnerful show of these new-fangled self-tying and delivering reapers, sich as they foreigners use over sea in America, and I"m rarely fell on seeing them and having a holiday look round Lunnon town. So as there ain"t not nothing particler a-doing, if you hain"t got anything to say agin it, I think I"ll go, Squire."
"All right," said the Squire; "are you going to take your wife with you?"
"Why no, Squire; I said as I wanted to go for a holiday, and that ain"t no holiday to take the old missus too," and George chuckled in a manner which evidently meant volumes.
And so it came to pa.s.s that on the afternoon of the day of the transfer of the mortgages from Edward Cossey to Mr. Quest the great George found himself wandering vaguely about the vast expanse of the Colinderies, and not enjoying himself in the least. He had been recommended by some travelled individual in Boisingham to a certain lodging near Liverpool Street Station, which he found with the help of a friendly porter. Thence he set out for the Exhibition, but, being of a prudent mind, thought that he would do well to save his money and walk the distance. So he walked and walked till he was tired, and then, after an earnest consultation with a policeman, he took a "bus, which an hour later landed him--at the Royal Oak. His further adventures we need not pursue; suffice it to say that, having started from his lodging at three, it was past seven o"clock at night when he finally reached the Exhibition, more thoroughly wearied than though he had done a good day"s harvesting.
Here he wandered for a while in continual dread of having his pocket picked, seeking reaping machines and discovering none, till at length he found himself in the gardens, where the electric light display was in full swing. Soon wearying of this, for it was a cold damp night, he made a difficult path to a buffet inside the building, where he sat down at a little table, and devoured some very unpleasant-looking cold beef. Here slumber overcame him, for his weariness was great, and he dozed.
Presently through the m.u.f.fled roar and hum of voices which echoed in his sleep-dulled ears, he caught the sound of a familiar name, that woke him up "all of a heap," as he afterwards said. The name was "Quest." Without moving his body he opened his eyes. At the very next table to his own were seated two people, a man and a woman. He looked at the latter first. She was clad in yellow, and was very tall, thin and fierce-looking; so fierce-looking that George involuntarily jerked his head back, and brought it with painful force in contact with the wall. It was the Tiger herself, and her companion was the coa.r.s.e, dreadful-looking man called Johnnie, whom she had sent away in the cab on the night of Mr. Quest"s visit.
"Oh," Johnnie was saying, "so Quest is his name, is it, and he lives in a city called Boisingham, does he? Is he an off bird?" (rich)
"Rather," answered the Tiger, "if only one can make the dollars run, but he"s a nasty mean boy, he is. Look here, not a cent, not a stiver have I got to bless myself with, and I daren"t ask him for any more not till January. And how am I going to live till January? I got the sack from the music hall last week because I was a bit jolly. And now I can"t get another billet any way, and there"s a bill of sale over the furniture, and I"ve sold all my jewels down to my ticker, or at least most of them, and there"s that brute," and her voice rose to a subdued scream, "living like a fighting-c.o.c.k while his poor wife is left to starve."
""Wife!" Oh, yes, we know all about that," said the gentleman called Johnnie.
A look of doubt and cunning pa.s.sed across the woman"s face. Evidently she feared that she had said too much. "Well, it"s a good a name as another," she said. "Oh, don"t I wish that I could get a grip of him; I"d wring him," and she twisted her long bony hands as washerwomen do when they squeeze a cloth.
"I"d back you to," said Johnnie. "And now, adored Edithia, I"ve had enough of this blooming show, and I"m off. Perhaps I shall look in down Rupert Street way this evening. Ta-ta."
"Well, you may as well stand a drink first," said the adored one. "I"m pretty dry, I can tell you."
"Certainly, with pleasure; I will order one. Waiter, a brandy-and-soda for this lady--/six/ of brandy, if you please; she"s very delicate and wants support."
The waiter grinned and brought the drink and the man Johnnie turned round as though to pay him, but really he went without doing so.
George watched him go, and then looked again at the lady, whose appearance seemed to fascinate him.
"Well, if that ain"t a master one," he said to himself, "and she called herself his wife, she did, and then drew up like a slug"s horns. Hang me if I don"t stick to her till I find out a bit more of the tale."
Thus ruminated George, who, be it observed, was no fool, and who had a hearty dislike and mistrust of Mr. Quest. While he was wondering how he was to go to work an unexpected opportunity occurred. The lady had finished her brandy-and-soda, and was preparing to leave, when the waiter swooped down upon her.
"Money please, miss," he said.
"Money!" she said, "why you"re paid."
"Come, none of that," said the waiter. "I want a shilling for the brandy-and-soda."
"A shilling, do you? Then you"ll have to want, you cheating white- faced rascal you; my friend paid you before he went away."
"Oh, we"ve had too much of that game," said the waiter, beckoning to a constable, to whom, in spite of the "fair Edithia"s" very vigorous and pointed protestations, he went on to give her in charge, for it appeared that she had only twopence about her. This was George"s opportunity, and he interfered.
"I think, marm," he said, "that the fat gent with you was a-playing of a little game. He only pretinded to pay the waiter."
"Playing a game, was he?" gasped the infuriated Tiger. "If I don"t play a little game on him when I get a chance my name is not Edith d"Aubigne, the nasty mean beast--the----"
"Permit me, marm," said George, putting a shilling on the table, which the waiter took and went away. "I can"t bear to see a real lady like you in difficulty."
"Well, you are a gentleman, you are," she said.
"Not at all, marm. That"s my way. And now, marm, won"t you have another?"