★ 23 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure
Family Jars
Hildebrand Spencer Poyns de Burgh John Hannasyde Coombe-Crombie, Earl of Dreever, was like a under the harrow. He read the again, but a second it no better. Very and Molly had off the engagement. She “thought it best”; she was “afraid it make neither of us happy.” All very true, his miserably. His to a T. At the proper time nothing he would have liked better. But why for this the moment when he was intending, on the of the engagement, to his uncle from twenty pounds? That was what rankled. That Molly have no knowledge of his sad condition did not to him. He had a of that she ought to have by instinct. Nature, as has been pointed out, had Hildebrand Spencer Poyns de Burgh with one of those cheap-substitute minds. What passed for brain in him was to what just-as-good coffee is to Mocha. In moments of and distress, consequently, his reasoning, like Spike’s, was to be in a class of its own.
He read the for the third time, and a to on his forehead. This was awful. The of Katie, the of the Savoy, when he should present himself to her a free man, did not enter into the picture that was him. She was too remote. Between him and her the of Sir Thomas, rampant, the entire horizon. Nor is this to be at. There was a space which Perseus, his upon the monster, did not see Andromeda; and a of the Middle Ages, in the gentlemen’s for a from his lady, allowed the of that to his whole mind at the moment when his boiler-plated was upon him in the wake of a spear.
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So with Spennie Dreever. Bright might for him when all was over, but in the meantime what to him more was that would glare.
If only this had later—even a day later! The of the modern girl had him. How was he to pay Hargate his money? Hargate must be paid—that was certain; no other was possible. Lord Dreever’s was not one of those natures which under debt. During his early career at college he had himself to the local by the of the he had with them. It was not the being in that he minded, it was the consequences. Hargate, he instinctively, was of a nature. He had Hargate twenty pounds’ of snubbing, and the had presented the bill. If it were not paid would happen. Hargate and he were members of the same club, and a of a who money at cards to a fellow-member and fails to settle up not make himself popular with the committee.
He must the money—there was no that conclusion—but how?
Financially, his was like a country with a history. There had been a time, his two years at college, when he had in the luxury of a allowance. This was the age, when Sir Thomas Blunt, being, so to speak, new to the job, and that, having the best circles, he must live up to them, had lavishly. For two years after his marriage with Lady Julia he had this standard, his natural parsimony. He had the money so as in an investment. By the end of the second year he had his feet, and to look about him for of retrenchment. His lordship’s was an way. He had not to wait long for an for it. There is a game called poker, at which a man without much over his may the limits of the allowance. His lordship’s a game of was like the surface of some pond, by every breeze. The blank of his when he cards expensive. The that over in his when his hand was good as an danger-signal to his opponents. Two of had to his to his uncle a but for more funds; and the had come with a 149joyous bang. Taking his on the of gambling, Sir Thomas had the of the money-market for his nephew with a that the possibility of his being again by the of poker. The absolutely, and in its place there came into being an arrangement. By this his was to have money he for, but he must ask for it, and why it was needed. If the were reasonable, the cash would be forthcoming; if preposterous, it would not. The in the scheme, from his lordship’s point of view, was the of opinion which can in the minds of two men as to what the and may be taken to mean.
Twenty pounds, for instance, would, in the of Sir Thomas Blunt, be perfectly for the of a man to Molly McEachern, but for one to she had to engaged. It is these of meaning which make the English language so full of for the foreigner.
So was his in his that it was not till a voice spoke at his that he was aware that Sir Thomas himself was by his side.
“Well, Spennie, my boy,” said the knight. “Time to dress for dinner, I think. Eh? Eh?”
He was in high good-humour. The of the company he was to that night had him temporarily, as with some of a wand, into a thing of and benevolence. One almost the milk of and him. The of Fate! To-night—such was his mood—a nephew have come and his pockets and helped himself—if had been different. Oh, woman, woman, how you us from Paradise!
His a reply, the into his pocket. He would the news anon—soon. Not yet—later on; in fact, anon.
“Up in your part, my boy?” Sir Thomas. “You mustn’t the play by your lines. That wouldn’t do.”
His was by the which Spennie had dropped. A from the and was the result. His little small untidinesses.
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“Dear me,” he said, stooping, “I wish people would not paper about the house. I cannot a litter.”
He spoke as if somebody had been playing hare-and-hounds and the on the stairs. This of thing sometimes him the old days. In Blunt’s Stores Rule 67 a of a on employés of paper-dropping.
“I——” his lordship.
“Why”—Sir Thomas himself—“it’s to you!”
“I was just going to it up. It’s—er—there was a note in it.”
Sir Thomas Blunt at the again. Joviality and their thrones.
“And the handwriting,” he chuckled. He the almost roguishly. “I see, I see,” he said. “Very charming. Quite delightful! Girls must have their little romance. I you two people are love-letters all day? Delightful—quite delightful! Don’t look as if you were of it, my boy. I like it. I think it’s charming.”
Undoubtedly this was the opening. Beyond a question his should have said at this point, “Uncle, I cannot tell a lie. I cannot allow myself to see you under a which a word from me can remove. The of this note are not what you suppose. They as follows——”
What he did say was, “Uncle, can you let me have twenty pounds?”
Those were his words. They out. He not stop them.
Sir Thomas was taken for an instant, but not seriously. He started as might a man who, a cat, a but scratch.
“Twenty pounds, eh?” he said reflectively.
Then the milk of over like a wave. This was a night for rich gifts to the deserving.
“Why, certainly, my boy, certainly. Do you want it at once?”
His that he did, please; and he had said a thing more fervently.
“Well, well. We’ll see what we can do. Come with me.”
He the way to his dressing-room. Like nearly all the rooms at the castle, it was large. One was by the which Spike had taken that afternoon.
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Sir Thomas to the dressing-table and a small drawer.
“Twenty, you said? Five—ten—fifteen—here you are, my boy.”
Lord Dreever his thanks. Sir Thomas the with a on the shoulder.
“I like a little touch like that,” he said.
His looked startled.
“I wouldn’t have touched you,” he began, “if it hadn’t been——”
“A little touch like that letter-writing,” Sir Thomas on. “It a warm heart. She is a warm-hearted girl, Spennie—a charming, warm-hearted girl! You’re lucky, my boy.”
His lordship, the four bank-notes, with him.
“But come, I must be dressing. Dear me, it is very late. We shall have to hurry. By the way, my boy, I shall take the opportunity of making a public of the to-night. It will be a occasion for it, I think, perhaps, at the of the theatricals, a little speech—something and informal, just them to wish you happiness, and so on. I like the idea. There is an old-world air about it that to me. Yes.”
He to the dressing-table and his collar.
“Well, along, my boy,” he said. “You must not be late.”
His from the room. He did an amount of as he into his clothes; but the which most was that, happened, all was well in one way, at any rate. He had the twenty pounds. There would be something in the shape of when his uncle learned the truth. It would be the biggest thing since the San Francisco earthquake. But what of it? He had the money.
He it into his pocket. He would take it with him, and pay Hargate directly after dinner.
He left the room. The of a skirt his as he the landing. A girl was the on the other side. He waited at the of the stairs to let her go him. As she came on to the landing he saw that it was Molly.
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For a moment there was an pause.
“Er—I got your note,” said his lordship.
She looked at him, and then out laughing.
“You know you don’t mind the least little bit,” she said—“not a scrap. Now, do you?”
“Well, you see——”
“Don’t make excuses. Do you?”
“Well, it’s like this, you see. I——”
He her eye. Next moment they were laughing together.
“No; but look here, you know,” said his lordship. “What I is, it isn’t that I don’t—I mean, look here, there’s no why we shouldn’t be the best of pals.”
“Why, of there isn’t.”
“No, really, I say? That’s ripping. Shake hands on it.”
They hands; and it was in this that Sir Thomas Blunt, downstairs, them.
“Aha!” he archly. “Well, well, well! But don’t mind me, don’t mind me!”
Molly uncomfortably; she Sir Thomas when he was not arch, and him when he was: she foolish; and she was bewildered. She had not looked to meeting Sir Thomas that night. It was always meeting him, but it would be more than after she had the for which he had so earnestly. She had he would be cold and or and heated. In her moments she had a long and painful scene. That he should be like this was not very much of a miracle. She not it.
A at Lord Dreever her. That was the air of a child about to a large cracker. He to be himself up for an explosion.
She him sincerely. So he had not told his uncle the news yet! Of course, he had had time. Saunders must have him the note as he was going up to dress.
However, there was no use in the agony. Sir Thomas must be told sooner or later. She was of the to tell him herself. She would be able to that it was all her doing.
“I’m there’s a mistake,” she said.
“Eh?” said Sir Thomas.
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“I’ve been it over, and I came to the that we weren’t——Well, I off the engagement.”
Sir Thomas’s always still farther. The colour of his deepened. Suddenly he chuckled.
Molly looked at him amazed. Sir Thomas was to-night.
“I see it,” he wheezed. “You’re having a joke with me! So this is what you were as I came downstairs! Don’t tell me! If you had him over you wouldn’t have been laughing together like that. It’s no good, my dear. I might have been taken in if I had not you, but I did.”
“No, no,” Molly. “You’re wrong—you’re wrong. When you saw us we were just that we should be very good friends—that was all. I off the that. I——”
She was aware that his had a croak, but she took it as his method of her statement—not as a warning.
“I Lord Dreever a note this evening,” she on, “telling him that I couldn’t possibly——”
She off in alarm. With the of her last speech Sir Thomas had to swell, until now he looked as if he were in of bursting. His was purple. To Molly’s his appeared to move slowly out of his head, like a snail’s. From the of his came noises.
“S-s-so——” he stammered.
He and again.
“So this,” he said, “so this—so that was what was in that letter, eh?”
Lord Dreever weakly.
“Eh?” Sir Thomas.
His started convulsively.
“Er—yes,” he said. “Yes, yes—that was it, don’t you know!”
Sir Thomas him with a stare. Molly looked from one to the other in bewilderment.
There was a pause, which Sir Thomas to of himself. Doubts as to the of a family in mid-stairs appeared to to him. He moved forward.
“Come with me,” he said, with curtness.
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His bonelessly. Molly them go, and more than ever. There was something this. It was not the breaking-off of the that had Sir Thomas. He was not a just man, but he was just to be able to see that the was not Lord Dreever’s. There had been something more. She was puzzled.
In the Saunders was standing, in hand, about to the gong.
“Not yet!” Sir Thomas. “Wait!”
Dinner had been ordered early that night of the theatricals. The for had been upon Saunders. At some he had punctuality. And now—— But we all have our to in this world. Saunders with resignation.
Sir Thomas the way into his study.
“Be so good as to close the door,” he said.
His was so good.
Sir Thomas to the and there in the which for has been to the Briton—feet well apart, hands his tails. His Lord Dreever like a searchlight.
“Now, sir!” he said.
His his gaze.
“The is, uncle——”
“Never mind the facts. I know them! What I is an explanation.”
He spread his apart. The years had rolled back, and he was plain Thomas Blunt again, of Blunt’s Stores, with an employé.
“You know what I mean,” he on. “I am not to the breaking-off of the engagement. What I upon learning is your for to me of the of that letter.”
His said that somehow, don’t you know, there didn’t to be a chance, you know. He had times been on the point—but—well, somehow—— Well, that’s how it was.
“No chance?” Sir Thomas. “Indeed! Why did you that money I gave you?”
“Oh—er—I wanted it for something.”
“Very possibly. For what?”
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“I—the is, I it to a fellow.”
“Ha! How did you come to it?”
His shuffled.
“You have been gambling,” Sir Thomas. “Am I right?”
“No, no! I say, no, no. It wasn’t gambling—it was a game of skill. We were playing piquet.”
“Kindly from quibbling. You this money at cards, then, as I supposed. Just so.”
He the space his feet. He his glare. He might have been to an of The Pilgrim’s Progress for a picture of “Apollyon right across the way”.
“So,” he said, “you from me the of that letter, in order that you might money from me under false pretences? Don’t speak!” (his had gurgled). “You did! Your was that of a—of a——”
There was a very selection of evil-doers in all of from which to choose. He gave the to the race-track.
“Of a common welsher,” he concluded. “But I won’t put up with it. No; not for an instant. I upon you returning that money to me here and now. If you have not got it with you, go and it.”
His lordship’s the consternation. He had been prepared for much, but not for this. That he would have to what, in his school-days, he would have called a “jaw” was inevitable, and he had been to go through with it. It might his feelings, possibly, but it would his intact. A of this he had not foreseen.
“But, I say, uncle!” he bleated.
Sir Thomas him with a gesture.
Ruefully his produced his little all. Sir Thomas took it with a and to the door.
Saunders was still over the gong.
“Sound it!” said Sir Thomas.
Saunders him with the air of an hound.
“And now,” said Sir Thomas, “go to my dressing-room and place these notes in the small of the table.”
The butler’s calm, expressionless, yet took in at a the of trouble. Neither the air of 156Sir Thomas the punctured-balloon of Lord Dreever him.
“Something hup,” he said to his as he moved upstairs. “Been a old, old row, to me.”
He his more for use in public. In with his he was to somewhat.
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