The Pauper of Park Lane

by William Le Queux

PROMISES.

  "I know very little of the details," replied the girl. "Max could, ofcourse, tell you everything. He introduced me one night to Mr Adam,who seemed a very polite man."

  "All bows and smiles, like the average Frenchman--eh? Oh, yes. Ihappen to know him. Well?"

  "He seems a most intimate friend of Max's."

  "Is he really?" remarked the millionaire. "Then Max doesn't know asmuch about him as I do."

  "What?" asked Marion in quick alarm. "Isn't he all that he pretends tobe?"

  "No, he isn't. I must see Barclay to-morrow--the first thing to-morrow.I wonder if he's put any money into the venture?"

  "Of that I don't know. He only told me that it would mean a bigfortune."

  "So it would--if it were genuine."

  "Then isn't it genuine?" she asked anxiously.

  "Genuine! Why, of course not! Nothing that Jean Adam has anything todo with, my dear young lady, is ever genuine. Depend upon it that hisMajesty the Sultan will never grant any such concession. He fearsBulgaria far too much. If it could have been had, I may tell you atonce I should already have had it. There is, as you say, a big thing tobe made out of it--a very big thing. But while the Sultan lives theline will never be constructed. Pachitch, the Prime Minister of Servia,told me so the last time I was in Belgrade, and I'm entirely of hisopinion."

  "But what you tell me regarding Mr Adam surprises me."

  "Ah! you are still young, Miss Rolfe! You have many surprises yet instore for you," he replied with a light laugh. "Do you know Adampersonally?"

  "Yes."

  "Then beware of him, my girl--beware of him!" he snapped, his grey facedarkening in remembrance of certain ugly facts, and in recollection ofthe sinister face of the shabby lounger against the park railings.

  "Is he such a bad man, then?"

  Sam Statham pressed his thin lips together.

  "He is one of those men without conscience, and without compunction; aman whose plausible tongue would deceive even Satan himself."

  "Then he has deceived Max--I mean Mr Barclay," she exclaimed, quicklycorrecting her slip of the tongue, her cheeks slightly crimsoning at thesame time.

  "Without doubt," was the millionaire's reply. "I must see Barclayto-morrow, and ascertain what are Adam's plans."

  "He is persuading Mr Barclay to go to Constantinople. I know thatbecause he asked me to use my influence upon him in that direction."

  "Oh, so he has approached you, also, has he? Then there is some strongmotive for this journey, without a doubt! Barclay will be ill-advisedif he accepts the invitation. The bait held out is a very tempting one;but when I've seen your gentleman friend he will not be so credulous."

  "I'm very surprised at what you told me. I thought Mr Adam quite anice person--for a foreigner."

  "No doubt he was nice to you, for he wished to enlist your services toinduce your lover to go out to Turkey. For what reason?"

  "How can I tell?" asked the girl. "Mr Barclay mentioned that therailway concession would mean the commercial development of the BalkanStates, and that it would be one of the most paying enterprises inEurope."

  "That is admitted on all hands. But as the concession is not granted,and never will be granted, I cannot see what object Adam has in inducingyour friend to visit Constantinople. Was he asked to put money into thescheme, do you know?"

  "Mr Adam did not wish him to put up any money until he had thoroughlysatisfied himself regarding the truth of his statements."

  Statham was silent.

  "That's distinctly curious," he remarked at last, apparently muchpuzzled by her statement. "Underlying it all is some sinister motive,depend upon it."

  "You alarm me, Mr Statham," the girl said, apprehensive of someunexpected evil befalling the man she loved.

  "It is as well to be forearmed in dealing with Jean Adam," was the oldman's response. "More than one good man owes the ruin of his life'shappiness, nay his death, to the craft and cunning of that man, who,under a dozen different aliases, is known in a dozen different capitalsof the world."

  "Then he's an adventurer?"

  "Most certainly. Tell Barclay to come and see me. Or better, I willwrite to him myself. It is well that you've told me this, otherwise--"and he broke off short, without concluding his sentence.

  The pretty clock chimed the half-hour musically, reminding Marion of theunusual hour, and she stirred as if anxious to leave. Her handkerchiefdropped upon the floor. The old man noticed it, but did not direct herattention to it.

  "Then if you wish it, Mr Statham, I will say nothing to Mr Barclay,"she remarked.

  "No. You need say nothing. I will send him a message in the morning.But," he added, looking straight into the girl's beautiful face, "willyou not reconsider your decision, Miss Rolfe?"

  "My decision! Of what?" she asked.

  "Regarding the statement made to you by Maud Petrovitch. She told yousomething. What was it? Come, tell me. Some very great financialinterests are involved in the ex-Minister's disappearance. Yourinformation may save me from very heavy losses. Will you not assistme?"

  "I regret that it is impossible."

  "Have I not even to-night been your friend?" he pointed out. "Have Inot warned you against the man who is Max Barclay's secret enemy--andyours--the man Jean Adam?"

  "I am very grateful indeed to you," she answered; "and if it were in mypower, I would tell you what she told me."

  "In your power!" he laughed. "Why, of course, it is in your power tospeak, if you wish?"

  "Maud made a confession to me," she declared, "and I hold it sacred."

  "A confession!" he exclaimed, regarding her in surprise. "Regarding herfather, I suppose?"

  "No; regarding herself."

  "Ah! A confession of a woman's weakness--eh?"

  "Its nature is immaterial," she responded in a firm tone. "I was hermost intimate friend, and she confided in me."

  "And because it concerns her personally, you refuse to divulge it?"

  "I am a woman, Mr Statham, and I will not betray anything that reflectsupon another woman's honour."

  "Women are not usually so loyal to each other!" he remarked, not withouta touch of sarcasm. "You appear to be unlike all the others I haveknown."

  "I am no better than anybody else, I suppose," she replied. "Everywoman must surely possess a sense of what is right and just."

  "Very few of them do," the old man snarled, for woman was a subject uponwhich he always became bitterly sarcastic. In his younger days he hadbeen essentially a ladies' man, but the closed page in his history hadsurely been sufficient to sour him against the other sex.

  The world, had it but known the truth, would not have pondered at SamStatham's hatred of society, and more especially the feminine element ofit. But, like many another man, he was misjudged because he wascompelled to conceal the truth, and was condemned unjustly because itwas not permitted to him to make self-defence.

  How many men--and women, too--live their lives in social ostracism, andperhaps disgrace, because for family or other reasons they are unable toexhibit to the world the truth. Many a man, and many a woman, who readthese lines, are as grossly misjudged by their fellows as was SamuelStatham, the millionaire who was a pauper, the man who lived that sadand lonely life in his Park Lane mansion, daily gathering gold until hebecame crushed beneath the weight of its awful responsibility, his soleaim and relaxation being the mixing with the submerged workers of thecity, and relieving them by secret philanthropy.

  The sinner assumes the cloak of piety, while too often the denounced andmaligned suffer in silence. It was so in Samuel Statham's case; it isso in more than one case which has come under my own personalobservation during the inquiries I made before writing this presentnarrative of east and west.

  The old millionaire was surprised at the girl's admission that what theDoctor's daughter had told her was a confession. He realised how, inface of the fact that her brother loved Maud Petrovitch, it was notlikely tha
t she would betray her. Still, his curiosity was excited.The girl before him knew the truth of the ex-Minister's strangedisappearance--knew, most probably, his whereabouts.

  "Was the confession made to you by the Doctor's daughter of such aprivate nature that you really cannot divulge it to me?" he asked her,appealingly. "Remember, I am not seeking to probe the secrets of ayoung girl's life, Miss Rolfe. On the contrary, I am anxious--mostanxious--to clear up what is at present a most mysterious