★ 24 ★::A Gentleman of Leisure
The Treasure-Seeker
Gloom his about dinner as with a garment. He twenty pounds; his to seven and fourpence. He thought, and again. Quite an to appear on his pink cheeks. Saunders sympathetic—he Sir Thomas as an interloper, and for his lordship, under father also he had served, a of fondness—was at his with the magic bottle; and to Spennie, and re-emptying his almost mechanically, wine, the healer, an idea. To obtain twenty from any one person of his was impossible; to the twenty by four and a to five was more feasible.
Hope to him again.
Immediately after dinner he to about the like a family of active habits. The person he met was Charteris.
“Halloa, Spennie!” said Charteris. “I wanted to see you. It is reported that you are in love. At dinner you looked as if you had influenza. What’s your trouble? For goodness’ up until the show’s over. Don’t go on the stage, or anything. Do you know your lines?”
“The is,” said his eagerly, “it’s this way. I to want—— Can you me a fiver?”
“All I have in the world at this moment,” said Charteris, “is eleven and a postage-stamp. If the would be of any use to you as a start——No? You know, it’s from small like that great are amassed. However——”
Two minutes later Lord Dreever had his hunt.
The path of the is a one, if, as in the case of Spennie, his as a payer-back is not of the best.
Spennie, in his time, had small from most of his male acquaintances, the same. He had a to that he had half-a-crown here to pay a 158and ten there to settle up for a dinner; and his memory was not much more of larger sums. This his friends wary. The was that the great treasure-hunt was a failure from start to finish. He got smiles, he got apologies, he got of goodwill; but he got no money, from Jimmy Pitt.
He had approached Jimmy in the early of the and Jimmy, being in the mood when he would have anything to anybody, the five without a murmur.
But what was five pounds? The of and the were once more when his repaired to his room to the loud which, as Lord Herbert, he was to wear in the act.
There was a good to be said against stealing, as a habit; but it cannot be that, in circumstances, it offers an of a financial difficulty, and, if the were not so unpleasant, it is that it would more than it is.
His lordship’s mind did not turn to this from his embarrassment. He had before, and it did not to him directly to do so now. There is a in all of us. But gradually, as it was in upon him that it was the only possible, unless he were to Hargate on the and ask for time to pay—an alternative—he himself the possibility of having to secure the money by means. By the time he had his toilet, he had definitely that this was the only thing to be done.
His plan was simple. He where the money was—in the dressing-table in Sir Thomas’s room. He had Saunders to put it there. What be than to go and it? Everything was in his favour. Sir Thomas would be his guests. The would be clear. Why, it was like the money.
Besides, he reflected, as he his way through a bottle of Mumm which he had had the to from the supper-table as a nerve-steadier, it was not stealing. Dash it all, the man had him the money! It was his own! He had a mind—he himself out another of the elixir—to give Sir Thomas a good talking to into the bargain. Yes, it all!
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He pushed on his fiercely. The British lion was roused.
A man’s is, as a rule, a affair. Now and then, it is true, we with the of old hands or into houses with the of experts. But these are cases. The altogether. Spennie Dreever may be as a novice. It did not him that might be by Sir Thomas when he the money gone, and that might upon himself. Courage may be of champagne, but prudence.
The at half-past eight with a duologue. The audience had been into their seats, than is in such circumstances, to the which had been that the were to with an dance. The was well for such a purpose. There was of room and a of for those who sat out, in to a large to have married off the in the country.
Spennie’s idea had been to an by with the for a minutes, and then to through his the duologue, when his would not be noticed. It might be that if he later in the people would wonder what had of him.
He about till the last of the audience had taken their seats. As he was moving off through the a hand upon his shoulder. Conscience makes of us all. Spennie his and three into the air.
“Halloa, Charteris!” he said gaspingly.
Charteris appeared to be in a condition. Rehearsals had him into a pessimist, and now that the moment of production had his nerves were in a condition, as the was to in two minutes and the person who had to had disappeared.
“Spennie,” said Charteris, “where are you off to?”
“What—what do you mean? I was just going upstairs.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve got to come and prompt. That Blake has vanished. I’ll his neck! Come along!”
Spennie reluctantly. Half-way through the the official returned, with the that he had been having a of a on the and that his watch had gone 160wrong. Leaving him to discuss the point with Charteris, Spennie away.
The delay, however, had had the of the of the Mumm. The British lion a fresh fillip. He to his room to it. By the time he he was just right for the in hand. A to him it would not be a good thing to go and Sir Thomas’s nose as a to the proceedings; but he put the aside. Business pleasure.
With a jaunty, if unsteady, step he the stairs to the above, and his way the to Sir Thomas’s room. He on the light and to the dressing-table. The was locked, but in his present mood Spennie, like Love, laughed at locksmiths. He the and his weight into a tug. The came out with a report like a pistol-shot.
“There!” said his lordship, his severely.
In the the four bank-notes. The of them his with a rush. He would teach Sir Thomas to him like a kid. He would him!
He was the notes, the while, when he a of from him.
He turned, to see Molly. She the of a stage milkmaid, and her were with wonder. Leaving her room a moments earlier, after for her part, she had almost the end of the that to the landing when she his lordship, of and moving like some charger, come out of his in a of and make his way upstairs. Ever since their with Sir Thomas dinner she had been for a of him alone. She had not failed to notice his the meal, and her good little had been by the that she must have been for it. She that for some what she had said about the had his into his uncle’s books, and she wanted to him and say she was sorry.
Accordingly, she had him. His lordship, still in the war-horse vein, had the too hot, and had while she was still half-way up. She had at the top just in time to see him turn the passage into Sir Thomas’s dressing-room. She not think what his object 161might be. She that Sir Thomas was downstairs, so it not be with the idea of a with him that Spennie was the dressing-room.
Faint, yet pursuing, she on his trail, and in the just as the pistol-report of the lock out.
She looking at him blankly. He was a in one hand. Why, she not imagine.
“Lord Dreever!” she exclaimed.
The of his lordship’s melted into a but smile.
“Good!” he said, a thickly. “Good! Glad you’ve come—we’re pals—you said so—on stairs—b’fore dinner. Very you’ve come. Won’t you down?”
He the benevolently, by way of making her free of the room. The movement one of the bank-notes, which in Molly’s direction and at her feet.
She and it up. When she saw what it was her increased.
“But—but——” she said.
His upon her with a pebble-beached of goodwill.
“Sit down,” he urged. “We’re pals—no with you—you’re good friend. Quol—Uncle Thomas.”
“But, Lord Dreever, what are you doing? What was that noise I heard?”
“Opening drawer,” said his affably.
“But——” She looked again at what she had in her hand. “But this is a five note.”
“Five note,” said his lordship—“quite right. Three more of them in here.”
Still she not understand.
“But—— Were you—stealing them?”
His himself up.
“No,” he said. “No! Not stealing. No.”
“Then——”
“Like this: dinner old boy as you please; couldn’t do for me. Touched him for twenty of the best and got away with it. So all well. Then met you on stairs. You let cat out of bag.”
“But why? Surely——”
His gave the a wave.
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“Not you,” he said magnanimously. “Not your fault—misfortune. You didn’t know—about letter.”
“About the letter?” said Molly. “Yes; what was the trouble about the letter? I something was directly I had said that I it.”
“Trouble was,” said his lordship, “that old boy it was love letter. Didn’t him.”
“You didn’t tell him? Why?”
His his eyebrows.
“Wanted touch him twenty of the best,” he simply.
For the life of her Molly not help laughing.
“Don’t laugh,” his lordship, wounded. “No joke—serious—honour at stake.”
He the three notes and replaced the drawer.
“Honour of the Dreevers!” he added, pocketing the money.
“But, Lord Dreever!” she cried. “You can’t! You mustn’t! You can’t be going, really, to take that money? It’s stealing! It isn’t yours!”
His a very at her.
“That,” he said, “is where you make error. Mine! Old boy gave them to me.”
“Gave them to you! Then why did you open the drawer?”
“Old boy took them again, when he out about letter.”
“Then they don’t to you?”
“Yes. Error! They do. Moral right.”
Molly her in her agitation. Men of Lord Dreever’s type to the of women. As a man his was a quantity—he did not count; but as a child, to be out of trouble, he had a on Molly.
She spoke soothingly.
“But, Lord Dreever——” she began.
“Call me Spennie,” he urged. “We’re pals. You said so—on stairs. Everybody calls me Spennie, Uncle Thomas. I’m going to his nose,” he off suddenly, as one a appointment.
“Spennie, then,” said Molly. “You mustn’t, Spennie. You mustn’t, really. You——”
“You look rippin’ in that dress,” he said irrelevantly.
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“Thank you, Spennie, dear. But listen.” She spoke as if she were a infant. “You mustn’t take that money. You must put it back. See, I’m this note back. Give me the others, and I’ll put them in the too. Then we’ll the drawer, and nobody will know.”
She took the notes from him, and replaced them in the drawer. He her thoughtfully, as if he were the of her arguments.
“No,” he said suddenly. “No—must have them—moral right! Old boy——”
She pushed him away.
“Yes, yes, I know,” she said. “I know it’s a that you can’t have them; but you mustn’t take them. Don’t you see that he would you the moment he they were gone? And then you’d into trouble.”
“Something in that,” his lordship.
“Of there is, Spennie, dear. I’m so you see. There they all are, safe again in the drawer. Now we can go again, and——”
She stopped. She had closed the door in the proceedings, but her quick ear the of a in the passage outside.
“Quick!” she whispered, taking his hand and to the electric light switch. “Somebody’s coming. We mustn’t be here. They’d see the drawer, and you’d into trouble. Quick!”
She pushed him the where the hung, and off the light.
From the came the voice of his lordship.
“It’s Uncle Thomas. I’m out. Pull his nose.”
“Be quiet!”
She to the and it.
“But, I say——” his lordship.
“Hush!”
She his arm. He subsided.
The had the door. Then the softly. The door opened and closed again with a sound.
The passed on into the room.
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