‘I wish you will stop staring at me in that foolish way!’ said Sophy. ‘You have already peered at me through that hole in the door, and you must by now have convinced yourself that I am not a law-officer in disguise.’
Mr Goldhanger protested. The insinuation that he would not welcome a visit from a law-officer seemed to wound him. However, he stood back to allow Sophy to enter the room, and invited her to take a chair on one side of the large desk which occupied the centre of the floor.
‘Yes, but I shall be obliged to you if you will first dust it,’ she said.
Mr Goldhanger performed this office with one of his long coat-tails. He heard the key grate behind him, and turned sharply to see his visitor removing it from the lock.
‘You won’t object to my locking the door, I daresay,’ said Sophy. ‘I don’t in the least desire to be interrupted by any of your acquaintances, you see. And since I should much dislike to be spied on you will permit me to stuff my handkerchief into that Judas of yours.’ She removed one hand from her large swansdown muff as she spoke, and poked a corner of her handkerchief into the hole.
Mr Goldhanger had the oddest feeling that the world had begun to revolve in reverse. For years he had taken care never to get into any situation he was unable to command, and his visitors were more in the habit of pleading with him than of locking the door, and ordering him to dust the furniture. He could see no particular harm in allowing Sophy to retain the key, for although she was a large young woman he had no doubt of being able to wrest it from her, should such a need arise. The instinct of his race made him prefer, whenever possible, to maintain a manner of the utmost urbanity, so he now smiled, and bowed, and said that my lady was welcome to do what she pleased in his humble abode. He then betook himself to the chair on the other side of the desk, and asked what he might have the honour of doing for her.
‘I have come on a very simple matter,’ responded Sophy. ‘It is merely to recover from you Mr Hubert Rivenhall’s bond, and the emerald ring given you as a pledge.’
‘That,’ said Mr Goldhanger, smiling more ingratiatingly than ever, ‘is indeed a simple matter. I shall be delighted to oblige you, my lady. I need not ask whether you have brought with you the funds, for I am sure such a business-like young lady –’
‘Now, that is excellent!’ interrupted Sophy cordially. ‘I find that so many persons imagine that if one is a female one has no head for business, and that, of course, leads to a sad waste of time. I must tell you at once that when you lent five hundred pounds to Mr Rivenhall you lent money to a minor. I expect I need not explain to you what that means.’
She smiled in the most friendly way as she spoke these words, and Mr Goldhanger smiled back at her, and said softly: ‘What a well-informed young lady, to be sure! If I sued Mr Rivenhall for my money I could not recover it. But I do not think Mr Rivenhall would like me to sue him for it.’
‘Of course he would not,’ Sophy agreed. ‘Moreover, although it was extremely wrong of you to have lent him any money, it seems unjust that you should not at least recover the principal.’
‘Most unjust,’ said Mr Goldhanger. ‘There is also a little matter of the interest, my lady.’
Sophy shook her head. ‘No, I shan’t pay you a penny in interest, which may perhaps teach you a lesson to be more careful in future. I have with me five hundred pounds in bills, and when you have handed me the bond and the ring I will give them to you.’
Mr Goldhanger could not help laughing a little at this, for although he had not very much sense of humour he could not but be tickled at the thought that he would forgo his interest at the command of a young lady. ‘I think I prefer to keep the bond and the ring,’ he said.
‘I expect you would prefer it,’ said Sophy.
‘You should consider, my lady, that I could do Mr Rivenhall a great deal of harm,’ Mr Goldhanger pointed out. ‘He is up at Oxford, isn’t he? Yes, I don’t think they would be pleased there if they knew of his little transaction with me. Or –’
‘They would not be at all pleased,’ said Sophy. ‘It would be a trifle awkward for you, though, would it not? But perhaps you could persuade them that you had no notion that Mr Rivenhall was under age.’
‘Such a clever young lady!’ smiled Mr Goldhanger.
‘No, but I have a great deal of common-sense, which tells me that if you refuse to give up the bond and the ring the best course for me to pursue would be to drive at once to Bow Street and lay the whole matter before the magistrate there.’
The smile faded: Mr Goldhanger watched her through narrowed eyelids. ‘I don’t think you would be wise to do that,’ he said.
‘Don’t you? Well, I think it is the wisest thing I could possibly do, and I have a strong feeling that they would like to have news of you in Bow Street.’
Mr Goldhanger shared this feeling. But he did not believe that Sophy meant what she said, his clients having the most providential dislike to publicity. He said: ‘I think my Lord Ombersley would prefer to pay me my money.’
‘I daresay he would, and that is why I have told him nothing about it, for I think it nonsensical to be blackmailed by such a creature as you, all for the want of a little courage!’
This unprecedented point of view began to engender in Mr Goldhanger a dislike for his guest. Women, he knew, were unpredictable. He leaned forward in his chair, and tried to explain to her some of the more disagreeable consequences that would befall Mr Rivenhall if he repudiated any part of his debt. He spoke well, and it was a sinister little speech that seldom failed to impress his hearers. It failed today.
‘All this,’ said Sophy, cutting him short, ‘is nonsense and you must know that as well as I do. All that would happen to Mr Rivenhall would be that he would get a great scold, and be in disgrace with his father for a while, and as for being sent down from Oxford, no such thing! They will never know anything about it there, because it is my belief that you do worse things than lending money at extortionate rates to young men, and once I have been to Bow Street, ten to one they will contrive to put you in prison on quite another charge! What is more, the instant it becomes known to the law-officers that you lent money to a minor you will be unable to recover a penny of it. So pray do not talk any more to me in that absurd way! I am not in the least afraid of you, or of anything you can do.’
‘You are very courageous,’ said Mr Goldhanger gently. ‘Also you have much common-sense, as you told me. But I too have common-sense, my lady, and I do not think that you came to see me with the consent, or even the knowledge of your parents, or your maid, or even of Mr Hubert Rivenhall. Perhaps you would indeed inform against me at Bow Street: I do not know, but perhaps you may never be granted the opportunity. Now I should not like to be harsh to such a beautiful young lady, so shall we agree to a little compromise? You will give me the five hundred pounds you have brought with you, and those pretty pearls you wear in your ears, and I will hand you Mr Rivenhall’s bond, and we shall both of us be satisfied.’
Sophy laughed. ‘I imagine you would be more than satisfied!’ she said. ‘I will give you five hundred pounds for the bond and the ring, and nothing more.’
‘But perhaps you have loving parents who would be willing to give me much, much more to have you restored to them, alive, my lady, and unhurt?’
He rose from his chair as he spoke, but his objectionable guest, instead of displaying decent alarm, merely withdrew her right hand from her muff. In it she held a small but eminently serviceable pistol. ‘Pray sit down again, Mr Goldhanger!’ she said.
Mr Goldhanger sat down. He believed that no female could stand loud reports, much less pull triggers, but he had seen quite enough of Sophy to be reluctant to put this belief to the test. He begged her not to be foolish.
‘You must not be afraid that I don’t know how to handle guns,’ Sophy told him reassuringly. ‘Indeed, I am a very fair shot. Perhaps I ought to tell you that I have lived for some time in Spain, where of course they have a great many unpleasant people, such
as bandits. My father taught me to shoot. I am not such a fine shot as he is, but at this range I would engage to put a bullet through any part of you I chose.’
‘You are trying to frighten me,’ said Mr Goldhanger querulously, ‘but I am not frightened of guns in women’s hands, and I know very well it is unloaded!’
‘Well, if you move out of that chair you will discover that it is loaded,’ said Sophy. ‘At least, you will be dead, but I expect you will know how it happened.’
Mr Goldhanger gave an uneasy laugh. ‘And what would happen to you, my lady?’ he asked.
‘I don’t suppose that anything very much would happen to me,’ she replied. ‘And I cannot conceive how that should interest you when you were dead. However, if it does, I will tell you just what I should say to the law-officers.’
Mr Goldhanger, forgetting his urbanity, said testily that he did not desire to hear it.
‘You know,’ said Sophy, frowning slightly, ‘I cannot help thinking that it might be a very good thing if I were to shoot you in any event. I did not mean to when I first came because naturally I cannot approve of murder, but I see that you are a very evil man, and I cannot help wondering if a really courageous person would not shoot now, and so rid the world of someone who has done a great deal of harm in it.’
‘Put that silly gun away, and we will talk business!’ Mr Goldhanger besought her.
‘There is nothing more to talk about, and I feel much more comfortable with the gun in my hand. Are you going to give me what I came for, or shall I go to Bow Street, and inform them there that you tried to kidnap me?’
‘My lady,’ said Mr Goldhanger, on a whining note, ‘I am only a poor man! You –’
‘You will be much richer when I have paid you back your five hundred pounds,’ Sophy pointed out.
He brightened, for it had really seemed for a few minutes as though he might be forced to forgo even this sum. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I do not wish any unpleasantness, so I will give back the bond. The ring I cannot give back, for it was stolen from me.’
‘In that event,’ said Sophy. ‘I shall certainly go to Bow Street, because I am persuaded they will not believe there, any more than I do, that it was stolen. If you have not got it, you must have sold it, and that means you may be prosecuted. I enquired of a most respectable jeweller only this morning what the law is with regard to pledged articles.’
Mr Goldhanger, revolted by this unwomanly knowledge of the law, cast her a glance of loathing, and said: ‘I have not sold it!’
‘No, and it was not stolen from you either. I expect it is in one of the drawers of this desk, together with the bond, for I can’t imagine why you should have bought such a handsome piece of furniture, unless it was to lock valuables away in it. And it may even be that you keep a gun of your own in it, so perhaps I should warn you that if you pulled the trigger quicker than I did, I left a letter at my home to inform my – parents precisely where I had gone to, and what my purpose was.’
‘If I had a daughter like you, I would be ashamed to own her!’ said Mr Goldhanger, with real feeling.
‘Nonsense!’ said Sophy. ‘You would probably be very proud of me, and would have taught me how to pick pockets. And if you had a daughter like me she would have scrubbed your floors for you, and washed your shirt, so you would have been a deal better off then you are now. Pray do not keep me waiting any longer, for I am quite tired of talking to you, and, indeed, have found you a dead bore from the outset!’
Mr Goldhanger had been called a villain, a bloodsucker, a cheat, a devil, a ghoul and innumerable other hard names, but never had anyone told him that he was a dead bore, and never had any of his victims looked at him with such amused contempt. He would have like to have closed his long, bony fingers round Sophy’s throat, and choked the life slowly out of her. But Sophy held a gun, so instead he unlocked the drawer in his desk, and sought in it with a trembling hand for what he wanted. He thrust a ring and a scrap of paper across the desk, and said: ‘The money! Give me my money!’
Sophy picked the bond up, and read it; then she put it, with the ring, into her muff, and withdrew from this convenient receptacle a wad of bills, and laid it on the desk. ‘There it is,’ she said.
Mechanically, he began to count the bills, Sophy rose. ‘And now, if you please, will you be so obliging as to turn your chair round with its back to the door?’
Mr Goldhanger almost snarled at her, but he complied with this request, saying over his shoulder: ‘You need not be afraid! I am very glad to see you go!’ he added, quivering with fury: ‘Doxy!’
Sophy chuckled. Fitting the key into the lock, and turning it, she said: ‘Well, I really believe I would rather be a doxy than a turnip dressed up in a sheet to frighten silly boys!’
‘Turnip?’ repeated Mr Goldhanger, stupefied. ‘Turnip – ?’
But his unwelcome guest had gone.
Twelve
Hubert was on his way upstairs to his room that evening when he met his cousin, coming down from the schoolroom. She said: ‘Hubert! The very person I wanted! Wait, I have something for you!’ She then went into her own room, and came back in a minute or two, looking mischievous, and said: ‘Shut your eyes, and stretch out your hand!’
‘Now, Sophy, is this something horrid?’ he demanded suspiciously.
‘Of course it is not!’
‘Well, you look as though you meant to hoax me,’ he said, but he obediently shut his eyes, and held out one hand. Sophy placed his ring, and his bond in it, and told him he might now open his eyes. He did so, and suffered so severe a shock that he dropped the ring. ‘Sophy! ’
‘What a careless creature you are!’ she remarked. ‘Don’t neglect to burn that silly piece of paper! I very nearly did it myself, for I am sure it would be just like you to leave it in your pocket, but then I thought you would like to see for yourself that it really had been recovered.’
He bent to pick the ring up. ‘B – but, Sophy, how – who – how came this into your hands?’
‘I had it from Mr Goldhanger, of course.’
He gave a gasp. ‘Had it from – You did not go to that old devil’s house! You could not have done so!’
‘Yes, I did. What should stop me?’
‘Good God!’ he ejaculated. He grasped her wrist, and said sharply. ‘Why did he give it up to you? Do you tell me you paid the money I owed him?’
‘Oh, don’t give that a thought! I happened to have five hundred pounds by me, and you will pay me back sometime, I expect. There is no need to look so shocked, you silly boy!’
‘Sophy, I cannot bear it!’ he said, in a strangled voice. ‘Besides he lent it to me at fifteen per cent per month, and I know well he would never have parted with my bond for a penny less than was his due! Sophy, tell me the truth!’
‘I have done so. Of course, he did not like it very much, but he was obliged to do what I wanted, because I told him I should go to Bow Street if he refused. I think you were very right about him, Hubert! He is probably in league with every thief in London, for the instant I made that threat I could see how uneasy I had made him, so very likely he does not at all wish to be brought under the notice of the magistrates.’
‘Goldhanger allowed himself to be frightened into giving up these things? Goldhanger? ’ he said incredulously.
‘Well, what else could he do? I told him it was nonsensical to suppose that anything very dreadful would happen to you, if the whole matter was laid bare; and he knew that if I did go to Bow Street he would never be able to recover a penny of his money.’
‘You with that slimy villain! Were you afraid, Sophy?’ he asked wonderingly.
‘No, not a bit.’ She added apologetically: ‘You know, I haven’t the least sensibility! Sir Horace says it is quite shocking, and most unfeminine. But, to own the truth, I thought Goldhanger a ridiculous person. I was by far more afraid of El Moro! He was one of the guerrilleros, and a dreadful rogue! He and his men broke into the house one night when Sir Horace was aw
ay – but never mind that! People who are for ever recounting their adventures are the most tedious persons imaginable!’
‘Sophy, he might have done you some mischief –’
‘Yes, but I had my pistol with me, so he very soon thought better of that notion!’ she explained.
‘Sophy, Sophy, what am I to do?’ he exclaimed.
‘Nothing: there is nothing left to be done. I must go, or I shall be late for dinner. Don’t forget to burn that paper!’
She vanished into her room, cutting short his stammered thanks and protestations, and since he did not see her alone again that night he was unable to repeat them. He was engaged with a party of his own, but his friends found him in an unconvivial mood. His thoughts were, indeed, in a sad turmoil, and although his relief at being rid of his debt to Goldhanger had been at first overwhelming, it was succeeded, as soon as he had had time to think the matter over, by a most uncomfortable feeling of guilt. That Sophy, a mere female (and younger than himself ), should not only have paid off his debt, but should also have visited on his behalf such a person as Goldhanger, made him squirm in his chair. Blue Ruin did little to clear his intellect, and when he sought Berkeley Square in the early hours of the morning he was no nearer a solution of this new difficulty than he had been at the start of the evening, the only coherent thought in his head being that in some undiscovered way he must instantly pay his cousin five hundred pounds.
Mr Rivenhall returned from Leicestershire on the following day, arriving in Berkeley Square at a somewhat infelicitous moment. Jane Storridge, whose vigilance Sophy had not sufficiently taken into account, had not only discovered that the diamond drops were missing from her mistress’s jewel-case, but had raised such a hue and cry in the servant’s quarters that Mrs Ludstock, the housekeeper, felt herself called upon to inform Lady Ombersley that while she was sure she did not know what servants were coming to these days she would take her dying oath that none of the maids under her control had touched Miss Sophy’s ear-rings; and, further, that anybody might be pardoned for thinking that a lady’s maid worthy of the name would take better care of her mistress’s valuables than Miss Storridge seemed to suppose was necessary. With the gist of these remarks Dassett also wished to be identified, and so pregnant with unuttered offence was his manner that Lady Ombersley became quite flustered, realizing that she stood upon the brink of a domestic disaster. She sent for Jane Storridge, and Mr Rivenhall arrived in time to hear the end of a dialogue between the three servants so icily civil, so bristling with veiled innuendo as to terrify poor Lady Ombersley. Before he had the opportunity of demanding an explanation, Sophy herself came in, in her walking-dress, saying that she and Cecilia were going out to do some shopping, and had her aunt any commissions for her? Lady Ombersley greeted her with relief, and at once asked her why she had not disclosed the loss of her ear-rings.
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