The Master of the Ceremonies

by George Manville Fenn

sonata?"

  "I--I beg your pardon," she cried, flushing, and turning her back, sheobtained the tin case that held the transparent rings, and placed itbefore him with a deep sigh.

  "Not well, Miss Clode?" said Richard cheerfully.

  To his astonishment she caught his hand in hers, and burst into tears.

  "No, no, no," she cried, sobbing violently, "I am ill--heart-sick. MrLinnell, please, pray come in, I want to speak to you."

  "Why, Miss Clode!" he exclaimed.

  "Yes, you are surprised," she exclaimed, "greatly surprised. You, soyoung and handsome, an independent gentleman, are astonished that a poorinsignificant woman in my humble position should be always anxious aboutyou--should--should--there, I can keep it back no longer," she criedpassionately, as she held with both hands tightly that which he tried towithdraw. "I must speak--I must tell you, or you will wreck and ruinyour dear life. Mr Linnell--Richard--I love you. I love you so that Icannot bear to see and hear what I do--you are breaking my heart."

  "Miss Clode!" cried Richard Linnell, amazed, filled with contempt,sorrow, pity, all in one. "Think of what you are saying. Why, whatmadness is this?"

  "The madness of a wretched, unhappy woman, who has known you so long,and whose love for you is a hundred times stronger than you can believe.But hush! Come in here. Some one may call at any moment, and I couldnot bear for them to see."

  She loosed his hand, made a quick movement towards the little door atthe end of the counter, and held it open for him to pass in.

  It was a painful position for one so full of chivalrous respect forwomen, and the young man stood trying to think of what to say to releasehimself in the best way from a situation that he would have looked uponas ludicrous, only that it was so full of pain.

  "You are shrinking from me!" she exclaimed. "Pray, pray, don't do that,Mr Linnell. Have I not suffered enough? Come in; let me talk to you.Let me try and explain."

  "It is impossible," he said at last sternly. "Miss Clode, believe methat I will never breathe a syllable about this to a soul, but--"

  "Oh, you foolish, foolish boy!" she exclaimed, bursting into anhysterical fit of laughter. "How could you think such a thing as that?Is there no love a poor, weak, elderly woman like I am, could bear forone she has known from a boy, but such as filled your mind just then?There, there!" she cried, wiping her eyes quickly. "I have spokenwildly to you. Forgive me. I am a poor lonely woman, who fixed heraffection upon you, Richard Linnell, farther back than you can imagine.Listen, and let me tell you," she said in a soft, low voice, as she cameround to the front of the counter, and laid her little thin hand uponhis arm. "You lost your mother long ago, and have never known what itwas to have a mother's love; but, for years past, your every movementhas been watched by me; I have suffered when you have been in pain; Ihave rejoiced when I knew that you were happy."

  "My dear Miss Clode!" he exclaimed, in a half-wondering, half-pityingtone.

  "Yes--yes," she panted; "speak to me like that. You pay me for muchsuffering and misery; but don't--pray don't despise me for all this."

  "Despise you? No!" he said warmly; "but you do surprise me, Miss Clode.I know you have always spoken very kindly to me."

  "And you have always thought it almost an impertinence," she said sadly."It has been. This is impertinent of me, you think, too, but I shallnot presume. Mr Linnell, I have something to say to you, and when thatis said, I shall keep my distance again, and it will be a secret betweenus."

  "Why, Miss Clode," said Richard, trying to smile cheerfully, "you aremaking up quite a romance out of one of your own books."

  "Yes," she said, looking wistfully in his eyes, "quite a romance, onlyit is all true, my dear. Now, will you come in?"

  He hesitated for a moment, and then walked right in to the parlour, andshe followed him, wiping her red eyes with her handkerchief.

  "You will sit down?" she said, drawing forward an elbow-chair.

  He took it from her and placed it so that she could sit down, while hetook another.

  "No," she said softly, "I will stand. Mr Linnell, please sit down."

  He smiled and looked at her, full of expectancy, while she stoodwringing her handkerchief, and puckering up her forehead, her lipsparted, and an eager look of pride in her eyes as she gazed at him.

  "It is very good of you to come," she faltered. "I will say what I haveto say directly, but I am very weak, my dear--I--I beg your pardon, MrLinnell. Don't--don't think me too familiar. You are not angry with mefor loving you?"

  "How can I be angry?" he said quickly. "I am surprised."

  "You need not be," she said. "You would not be, if you knew more ofhuman nature than you do. Mr Richard Linnell, it is in a woman'snature to desire to cling to and love something. Why should you besurprised that a poor lonely woman like me should love--as a son--thehandsomest and truest gentleman we have in Saltinville?"

  "It is fortunate for me that we meet but seldom, Miss Clode," saidRichard, smiling, "if you hold me in such estimation as this."

  "I do not see why," she said gravely. "You are handsome. You arebrave. Do you think I do not know how you fought that duel below thecliff?"

  "Oh, tut-tut," he said quickly; "let that rest."

  "Or how bravely you followed that Major Rockley the night when hecarried off Miss Dean?"

  "My dear Miss Clode," said Richard quickly, "we shall be drifting intoscandal directly."

  She looked at him pityingly, as she saw the flush upon his cheeks, andit seemed to be reflected in hers, as she spoke out now eagerly andquickly, as if she thought there was a risk of his taking offence andhurrying away.

  "I will not talk scandal," she said, standing before him with her handsclasped; "I only want to talk of you--of your future, and to try andstop you before you go wrong."

  "Miss Clode!" he exclaimed warmly.

  "Yes," she said; "be angry with me. I expect it, and I'll bear it; I'llbear anything to see you happy. If I had seen you taking the downwardcourse--gambling, or drinking, or intriguing, I should have tried tostop you--tried fiercely, and braved your anger, as I do now. For Imust--I will speak."

  "I have neither been gambling, drinking, nor intriguing, Miss Clode,"said Richard laughingly, "so I have not deserved your wrath."

  "You are mocking at me, boy," she said, with spirit.

  "You think me a foolish, eccentric little woman--half mad, perhaps.Think so," she cried, "and, maybe, you are right; but, with all myweakness and folly, I love you, Richard Linnell, as a mother loves heroffspring, and it is to save you from future misery that I have nervedmyself to risk your displeasure, and perhaps your future notice, for Iam not so vain as to think I can ever be looked upon by you as anythingbut what I am."

  There was such warmth and sincerity in her words that Richard hastilytook her hands.

  "Forgive me," he said; "I am serious, and respect you for all this, MissClode."

  She bent down quickly and kissed his hands, making him start, and thenlook down on her pityingly, his wonder increasing as he saw how movedshe was, her tears having fallen on the hands she kissed.

  "There," she cried, "I will not keep you, but I must say what I have onmy mind, even if I offend you and make you angry as I did before."

  Richard Linnell looked at her sharply, with his eyes kindling; but,without speaking, she joined her hands together and stood before him asif pleading.

  Volume Three, Chapter II.

  MISS CLODE FEELS THAT SHE HAS DONE RIGHT.

  "The woman is mad," said Richard Linnell, with a pitying look, and hemade a movement as if to leave, but she caught his hand.

  "Pray--pray stay," she whispered, "and let me--let me speak."

  "Well, speak," he said, in a low, angry voice, "but be careful of whatyou say."

  "It is for your sake," she whispered. "You do not know what I do. Itis my lot to hear and see so much. I only want to take the veil frombefore your eyes."

  "If it is to blacken some one whom I respect--"


  "Whom you love, boy, with a foolish, insensate love. It is to save youfrom misery that I speak."

  "To tell me some vile scandal that I will not hear," he cried.

  "That you shall hear, if I die for telling you, boy," she cried,catching his wrist with both her hands. "Strike me if you like. Crushme if you will, but you shall hear the truth."

  "The truth--what truth, woman?" cried Richard indignantly.

  "The truth about--"

  "Hush! you shall not speak her name," cried Richard furiously.

  "It is enough that you know," said little Miss Clode quickly. "Boy,boy, place your affection elsewhere, and not upon a woman who is aboutto elope to-night."

  "It is not true," he cried furiously, "and I am a weak fool to stay andlisten to such calumnies."

  "It is true," said Miss Clode; "and it was to save you from the miseryof discovering all this that I made up my mind to tell you."

  "To have the pleasure of retailing this wretched scandal," he retortedscornfully. "Woman, you disgrace your sex by calumniating a sweet, purewoman."

  "It was to save you agony and despair," she said piteously. "You mightnever have known of this. People work so slyly, and in such secrecy;and if you only knew how jealous I am of your future, you would notspeak and look at me so cruelly as you do."

  "Stop!" cried Richard fiercely. "It was you sent me that wretchedanonymous letter once?"

  "Yes," she said humbly--"to save you from misery--to open your eyes tothe truth."

  "To open my eyes to a lie," he cried. "Miss Clode, enough of this. Ipromised you that I would look upon this as our secret: let it remainso, and we know each other no more."

  He moved towards the door, but she clung to his wrist.

  "That was a mistake," she panted; "but this time I am sure."

  "I will not listen," he cried. "Loose my wrist, woman."

  "You shall listen," she cried. "Richard Linnell, the post-horses areordered, and Claire Denville leaves her home to-night with--"

  He did not hear the rest, for he had reached the shop, and hurried away,nearly overturning Annie, as she came in to find her aunt in tears.

  "Oh, auntie, what is the matter?" she cried.

  "Look here," whispered Miss Clode, "are you sure there was no mistake inwhat you told me to-day?"

  "Quite sure, aunt dear. Jane Moggridge told me that there werepost-horses ordered for Major Rockley, and for Sir Harry Payne, and forSir Matthew Bray."

  "That will do," said Miss Clode quickly. "Now go right away."

  Annie looked wider-eyed and rounder-faced than ever in herdisappointment as she obeyed her aunt, while Miss Clode stood with herhands clasped to her side, gazing straight before her.

  "Have I done right?" she said to herself; "have I done wrong? Itmaddens me to see him so deceived--so blind. It was my duty to awakenhim from his miserable infatuation, but suppose mischief should comeafter it?"

  She turned ghastly pale, and clutched at a chair.

  "No, no," she cried, as she battled with her fears; "he is too brave andstrong, and he will have Mellersh on his side. I have done right, I amsure. It is half breaking his heart, poor fellow; but better the sharppain now than one that would last for life."

  Volume Three, Chapter III.

  MR BARCLAY IS BUSY.

  Josiah Barclay sat at his writing-table, looking about the mostuncompromising specimen of humanity possible, when the door was softlyopened, and his man-servant came in.

  "And nine's seventy-three," muttered Barclay, making an entry. "Hangthe woman! I wish she'd come down and go on with these accounts. Well,Joseph?"

  "Lady Drelincourt, sir."

  "Humph! Bless her! Let her wait. Seen that monkey again, Joseph?"

  "Isaac, sir? Denville's Isaac?"

  "Yes, him. Dropped any more hints?"

  "Saw him last night, sir, at the Blue Posts."

  "Well?"

  "Went on dropping hints again, sir, as soon as he had had a glass ortwo. 'Fraid he's a fool, sir."

  "Nothing to be afraid of in a fool, Joseph, so long as you keep him at adistance. So he chatters, eh?"

  "Yes, sir. Professes to have a mystery. He could speak if he liked,and there's a deal he could say if he pleased, and lays his finger onthe side of his nose, and all that sort of thing, sir. That's beengoing on for months, and it's what he calls confiding in me; but itnever goes any further."

  "And what do you think of it, Joseph?"

  "Nothing, sir," said Barclay's confidential man drily. "I believe it'sall to make him seem important. Lived a long while in an artificialsoil, sir, and goes in for shams."

  Barclay chuckled.

  "Don't give him up, Joseph. I think he does know something, and it maybe worth hearing. I find we can't know too much. Does he confide inanyone else?"

  "No, sir, I think not."

  "Well, don't give him up. Now you can show Lady Drelincourt in: andwhile she is here run on to Moggridge's. He has sent me a hint that achaise or two are ordered for to-night. Find out who are going."

  Joseph nodded and went out, while Barclay was muttering to himself thathe liked to make sure none of his sheep were going astray, when LadyDrelincourt was shown in.

  "Humph! I must send for my wife," said Barclay to himself. "It isdangerous when Venus invades one's home;" and he looked gravely at theoverdressed, painted-up old woman, with his thoughts dwelling upon herlikeness to Lady Teigne--the murder, the missing jewels--and Isaac'smysterious communications to his servant when they met at the Blue Poststo smoke a pipe.

  "Ah, doctor," cried her ladyship playfully, "I've come to let you feelmy pulse."

  "Your pulse, Lady Drelincourt?" said Barclay. "Surely your ladyship'scirculation is not low?"

  "Horribly, Barclay. I am fainting for want of the circulating medium."

  "But your ladyship's lawyers?"

  "Oh, I can't go to them again, and be bothered about deeds."

  "Your ladyship wants acts, eh?"

  "To be sure, and at once, Barclay. I want five hundred pounds."

  "A large sum, my lady," said Barclay warily.

  "Stuff! A trifle. Just enough to take me on the Continent and back."

  "Humph!" said Barclay aloud; and to himself: "One of the post-chaises."

  "Now, no nonsense, Barclay, or I shall be compelled to whip you severelywith my fan."

  "That ought to be a pleasure, madam," said Barclay politely. "But whatsecurity do you offer for five hundred pounds?"

  "Security! and from me, you wicked ogre!" said her ladyship playfully."Why, you ought to feel honoured."

  "I do, my lady, greatly; but--"

  "There, I don't want to waste my time listening to stuff. I know what aclose-fisted, miserly old wretch you are, and so I came prepared."

  "Prepared, Lady Drelincourt?"

  "Of course. I only want a temporary loan, and here are my diamonds."

  She drew a morocco case from the large reticule hanging on her arm, andpassed it across the table.

  Barclay opened the case, took out a glittering necklet, breathed uponit, glanced at the rest of the contents of the case, replaced thenecklet, and closed it.

  "Well, monster," said her ladyship playfully, "will that do?"

  "Admirably, my lady," said Barclay, taking a cash-box from a drawer, andcounting out, with deft fingers, a number of notes. "Four fifty-five,"he muttered, as he passed the rustling bundle across to his visitor, andslipped the case and cash-box back.

  "I must have no nonsense about those diamonds, Barclay," said herladyship, "when I want them back."

  "Your ladyship has only to sign this paper," replied Barclay, "and handme 600 pounds, and the gems come back to their owner."

  "Ah, Barclay, you are a dreadful ogre," she sighed, as she slipped thenotes into her reticule. "You are quite as bad as a highwayman."

  "Only more useful, my lady," chuckled Barclay. "Well, Joseph?"

  The servant bent down and whisper
ed:

  "Lord Carboro'."

  "Humph!" ejaculated Barclay. "Would your ladyship object to meet LordCarboro'?"

  "Yes. Horrors!" exclaimed her ladyship. "Or no, never mind; let himcome up. I have called to inspect some of your china--these Sevresjars."

  Barclay nodded to his man, who left the room; and, in support of herladyship's suggestion, the money-lender was saying: "It's anopportunity, my dear madam, that does not often occur; the workmanshipis unique," when Lord Carboro' was shown in, and his keen eyes glitteredas he took in the situation at a glance.

  "Ah, Lady Drelincourt, you here!"

  "Yes, I'm here," she said, "but I've not come to borrow money; haveyou?"

  "Yes," said his lordship sharply. "Barclay, a word with you."

  The money-lender bowed.

  "Don't change countenance," said his lordship, "and talk about money.Get out your cash-box, and make believe to give me some."

  Lady Drelincourt walked to the window with a small vase, and took outher great, square, gold-rimmed eye-glass.

  "Money's very tight just now, my lord," said Barclay aloud.

  "That's right," said his lordship, in a low tone. "Look here, Barclay.I'd have waited till that old cat had gone, but time's precious. Lookhere. I've had a nasty hint that hits me very hard. You'll call me anold fool. Well, I am; but never mind. I shall never have her, but Ilove that girl of Denville's, and, damme, sir, I can't see her go to thebad without stretching out a hand."

  "What have you heard, my lord?" said Barclay, rattling his keys andopening his cash-box.

  "There's some cursed plan afloat--elopement, or that sort of thing--to-night, I think; and we must stop it."

  "We, my lord!" said Barclay, jingling some coin.

  "Yes, we. You're an old friend of Denville's. I can't go to him."

  "Who's the man?" said Barclay.

  "Rockley, I think; curse him! Curse all these young, handsome men!Damme, sir, if I were forty years younger I'd be proud to marry her, forshe's a good girl--yes, sir, a good girl."

  Barclay nodded.

  "But of course I can't expect her to take to a toothless, gouty oldimbecile like me, poor child."

  "What do you know, my lord?"

  "Oh, only a garbled set-out. I'm not quite sure how things are; andsometimes it seems that it's Sir Harry Payne, sometimes it seems to beRockley. Now, look here, Barclay. Will you try with me to stop it? Icouldn't bear it to come off. If the girl were going to the church withsome true-hearted fellow, I should feel a twinge, but I'd settle athousand or two on her, and say, `God bless her!' like a man; but Ican't see her go to the bad without making an effort to save her.Barclay, you old scoundrel, you're laughing at me, and calling me anidiot for taking you into my confidence like this."

  "You don't think so, my lord," said Barclay sternly; "and you give mecredit for being an honest man, or you would not talk to me in thisway."

  "Honest?"

  "Yes," said Barclay sharply. "Am I dishonest for making all the profitI can out of a set of profligates and fools?"

  "Barclay," said his lordship, "if that old cat were not here I'd shakehands with you; as it is, that kick under the table means it. Yes, I dotrust you, and your good-hearted wife, too. Will you help me?"

  "In every way I can," said Barclay. "Between ourselves, Lord Carboro',I've had a hint or two of an elopement to-night, and I'm going to seewhat it means."

  "You have had a hint?" said Lord Carboro' eagerly.

  "Yes, my lord. I must have twenty-five per cent. The risk is toogreat," added Barclay aloud. "Drelincourt's looking," he said in a lowtone. "I'm not sure who it is yet, or what it means; but there'ssomething on the way, and I'll help your lordship all I can."

  "That's right, Barclay. I know you have wires all over the place, andcan pull them. You started Moggridge, and I suppose, if the truth'sknown, you could arrange for a post-chaise to break down anywhere youpleased."

  "Your lordship gives me credit for being quite a magician," said Barclaydrily. "However, I'll promise you this: Claire Denville shan't come toharm if Josiah Barclay can save her."

  "Thank you, Barclay," said Lord Carboro' softly. "I've not forgottenhow she refused those pearls."

  "And cheated me out of a score of good jewel transactions with yourlordship," said Barclay, handing him a slip of paper and a pen, whichthe old nobleman took and signed in Lady Drelincourt's full view. "Youtrust to me, my lord. I'll make all the inquiries necessary, andcommunicate with you to-night."

  There was a little mock exchange of papers, and then, pocket-book inhand, Lord Carboro' turned to Lady Drelincourt.

  "I have finished my business," he said. "Shall I attend you down toyour chair?"

  As the couple went out of the room with her ladyship mincing andsimpering, and giving herself airs, Barclay uttered a low growl.

  "I believe that old woman would make love to a mummy or a stone statueif she couldn't meet with a man. How I do hate the old wretch to besure!"

  "Now look here, Jo-si-ah," exclaimed Mrs Barclay, entering the room."I won't have it, though I don't believe it's true."

  "Don't believe what's true?"

  "That when anyone is by himself and talking aloud, he is holding aconversation with--there I won't say whom."

  "Pish!" ejaculated Barclay angrily. "There, sit down, woman, and makean entry about Lady Drelincourt's diamonds and the money I've lent onthem. Set 'em down in the jewel book and then lock them up in the case.It wouldn't do to lose them."

  "Like her sister's were lost," said Mrs Barclay. "I wonder what becameof them, Jo-si-ah."

  She opened the case, examined the jewels, and then opened a cabinet andan iron safe within, where she deposited the valuables, afterwardsmaking an entry in a book kept for the purpose, and another in the bigledger.

  "That's done," she said with a sigh of content. "Why, Jo-si-ah, what arich man you are getting."

  "Stuff! Don't talk nonsense."

  "I say, dear," she said, "I wonder how it is that Claire Denville hasn'tbeen here for so long. It seems strange. Here's somebody else."

  The visitors proved to be Sir Harry Payne with Sir Matthew Bray, MrsBarclay hurrying out to leave them with her husband.

  "Well, gentlemen?" said Barclay drily.

  "No, Barclay, it isn't well," cried Sir Harry, "nor will it be till I'vegot a couple of hundred pounds out of you."

  "And I one hundred," said Sir Matthew pompously.

  "My turn first," said Sir Harry, laughing. "Now, Barclay, two hundred,and no nonsense."

  Barclay shook his head, but his money was safe with Sir Harry, for healready held certain deeds that would cover principal and his largeinterest.

  "Now, Matt," said Sir Harry, "your turn."

  He thrust a sheaf of notes into his pocket laughingly, and Sir Matthewrolled up.

  "Now, Mr Barclay," he said, taking his friend's seat, while thatgentleman began inspecting china and bronzes, "I want only a hundred."

  "Which you can't have, Sir Matthew," said Barclay shortly. "You've gotto the end of your tether, and I shall have to put you in my lawyer'shands."

  "What, just now, when I have only to go on to be a rich man?"

  "My dear Sir Matthew, for two years past I've supplied your wants, andyou've been for ever dangling before my eyes the bait of a richmarriage, when you would pay me back. No more money, sir, from me."

  "Barclay, my dear fellow, don't be a fool."

  "I've just told you that I do not mean to be," said Barclay shortly."No hundred from me, Sir Matthew."

  "What, not if the matter were settled, and it was a case of post-horses,Dover, Continent, and a wedding abroad?"

  "With some penniless girl," growled Barclay.

  "With a lady of property and title, sir. Hush! be quiet--On my soul,Barclay. It's all right and settled. A rich marriage."

  "Stuff, sir! If it were a rich marriage you would not need money."

  "Preliminary expenses, dear boy. I
can't ask her to pay the postboys."

  Barclay looked at him keenly.

  "Is this a fact?"

  "Yes; to-night, sir. Honour bright. Don't spoil sport, Barclay."

  The money-lender pursed up his lips and twisted a pen in his fingers fora few moments.

  "Well, Sir Matthew," he said at last, "I'll give you this chance. If itdoes not come off your commission is mine. You'll have to sell out."

  "And I will, Barclay. But there's no fear. The game's won, sir. Aftera long siege the lady has at last surrendered."

  "A young and pretty woman, eh, Sir Matthew?"

  "Well--er--not too young," said the great dragoon. "I don't care forbread-and-butter misses."

  "Drelincourt, sure enough," said Barclay to himself, as he wrote out thecustomary form on a bill stamp. "Well, let the old fool marry him.He'll make her pay for it pretty sharply, I'll be bound. I shall get mymoney back, and he'll save his