The Red Derelict

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER NINE.

  "WE GET NO SHOW."

  "Great Scott!" exclaimed Clytie Calmour as a vehement ring sounded atthe front gate, obviously produced by the owner of the large red headwhich surmounted that portal. "Great Scott! but whoever called thisshebang Siege House named it well. Here's our last butcher pesteringfor his account for the seventh time. Now, dad, shell out."

  "Don't talk rot, Clytie. You know I haven't got a stiver. He'll haveto wait till next quarter-day. Tell him that, and let him go to thedevil."

  "Yes, yes; that's all right. But meanwhile we shall have to bevegetarians."

  "This infernal dunning gets on a man's nerves. It oughtn't to beallowed," grumbled old Calmour, who, it being only breakfast-time, wasnot sufficiently drunk to philosophise.

  "No, it oughtn't," cut in Bob; "but this time tell him we'll square withhim next week to a dead cert, Clytie, and deal with him ever after. Youknow, dad. You were forgetting," with a significant wink.

  "I wonder what nefarious plan you're hatching between you," said Delia."But I'd be sorry for Wells if he depended upon it for getting hismoney."

  "Oh, shut up," snarled Bob. "You weren't so blazing straight-laced andsanctimonious until you got taken up by the nobs, either. By Jove, Ibelieve Clytie's got round him after all. What a girl she is!"

  For the exasperated tradesman, who had been delivering himself of allsorts of uncomplimentary sayings, on the appearance of Clytie on thescene had evidently thawed with a suddenness which was quite miraculous,and was seen to salute quite respectfully as he turned away.

  "I've fixed him," she said serenely as she entered. "He'll send round.We shan't have to vegetate to-day."

  This sort of incident was common at Siege House, which, by the way, hadreally been so named by a former owner who had taken part in the siegeof Delhi. Indeed, it was a mystery how they lived. Old Calmour'spension was not large, and generally forestalled, yet somehow theymanaged to rub along.

  "When are you going to start for Haldane's, Delia?" went on Bob, who wasinclined to make himself disagreeable.

  "Soon."

  "Soon? Can't be too soon, eh? It's surprising how these old widowersfreeze on to you. First Wagram, now Haldane," jeered Bob.

  But there came a look into the face of his would-be victim that he didnot like. Delia had a temper, both quick and hot when roused, as he hadmore than once had reason to know, wherefore now his asinine guffawseemed to dwindle. Clytie intervened.

  "Shut your head, Bob," she said decisively. "You open it a great dealtoo much, and generally at the wrong time. Likewise clear; we've hadenough of you. Besides, you're late. Pownall and Skreet must beabsolutely languishing for you and your valuable services. Do you hear?Clear."

  Whatever hold the speaker had upon Bob it was obviously a tight one, forhe never failed in his obedience. Such was rendered grumblingly,indeed, but rendered it was. Now he retreated to the door, grunting asurly "All right."

  "What are those two up to, do you think, Clytie?" said Delia. "The oldman's going to Pownall and Skreet's as well as Bob."

  The last named at this juncture put his head in at the door to shoutout:

  "Which is the one, Delia? Wagram or Haldane?" and withdrew it in ahurry lest a well-aimed missile might considerably damage it--for ofsuch were the ways of Siege House.

  "I don't know. There may be a judgment summons out against him that weknow nothing about--or anything," answered Clytie with a tinge ofanxiety.

  "You don't think they're up to any mischief with regard to that wretchedgnu affair?" said Delia anxiously.

  "No--no; I've put my foot on that. And Pownall and Skreet are infernalthieves. Look how they fleeced me. They couldn't let Charlie Vance'sthousand pass through their hands without sticking to a lot of it.Called it costs! Why, they ought to have got those from the other side.Well, that's all gone, and I don't know how we're going to raise thewind. A cool thou, wouldn't come in badly just now. By the way, Delia,supposing my scheme fell through, how would it be to bring off somethingof that kind--on the principle of `half-an-egg'? And it would be adashed sight more than a cool thou, this time, for the Wagrams areCroesus compared with the Vances."

  "Oh, that'll do, Clytie. I suppose, as Bob says, I must have becomestraitlaced and sanctimonious; but I hate to look upon it in that light.I'm not meaning to reflect on you, mind; but, rather than do the otherthing, I'd starve."

  "So might we. Oh, I don't mind," was the serene answer. "Only, lookhere, Delia, and see where we come in. It's like having first-rateteeth but nothing to eat with them. Here we are, two devilishgood-looking girls, each in our own way, yet we get no show. What's theuse of our looks if they're to be nothing more than an instrument forcajoling a red-headed butcher into giving us further `tick'--as in thepresent case?"

  "What's the use? None at all," said Delia bitterly--"nor ever will be.We don't seem to `get there,' and it's my belief we never shall."

  "We've a margin left yet, thank the Lord; and you never know your luck.Well, Delia, you've a ripping day before you, at any rate. If I wereyou I should start early and ride slow. You never look your best comingin hot and blown. And make all you can and half as much again of yourchances, for, as I said, you never know your luck."

  What Clytie had stated, in her characteristically slangy way, was ratherunder the truth. These two, possessed of exceptional powers ofattractiveness, had, as she put it, "no show." Nor did their relativeattractions clash. The one, with her limpid blue eyes, Grecian profile,and tall serenity of carriage, made an effective contrast to therounder, more voluptuous outlines of the other, with her dark, clearskin and mantling complexion, bright hazel eyes and full, ruddy lips.But their circumstances and surroundings were all against them; and,handicapped by tippling, disreputable old Calmour as a parent, thosethey would have had to do with fought shy of them, and those they wouldnot--well, they would not.

  "There's the second post," said Delia with a sigh. "More duns, Isuppose."

  She went to the door just as the postman rapped his double knock, andreturned immediately with two letters.

  "Both for me, but--I don't know the first at all."

  "It's Haldane, putting you off, of course."

  "Oh, Clytie, don't," quickly answered Delia, to whom such an eventualitywould have constituted the keenest of disappointments. "No; it's allright," tremulously tearing open both envelopes. "But--they're not forme at all, they're for you. They're about typing, but they're bothdirected `Miss Calmour.'"

  "Let's see." Then reading: "`Madam,--you have been mentioned to me byMr Wagram Wagram--' Ah, that's all right." And she went on with theletter, which ran to the effect that the writer wanted the MS of a novelof 80,000 words typed, asking her terms, and throwing out a promisethat, if such were satisfactory, he would be happy to entrust her withall his work. The name was a fairly well-known one.

  "Now, what shall I ask him? If I say a shilling a thousand, there's afour-pound job. But, then, he may answer he can get it done fortenpence, which is quite true. If he had _seen_ me I'd ask him fifteenpence."

  "Do it anyhow. You can always come down."

  "No fear; not through the post. Well, I'll ask him a bob, and chanceit."

  "He could well afford it. He must be making pots of money, according tothe newspapers."

  "M--yes--according to the newspapers. Now, then, Delia, here we are.`Mr Wagram Wagram' again. It's a she this time, and starts on tenpence.Knows her way about evidently; hints at ninepence because of theinconvenience of postage, and it's only two short stories of 4000apiece. Well, I'll take her on, too, at tenpence. You can't haggle upour own sweet sex. Well done, Wagram Wagram. It's brickish of him; andI'd just begun to think he'd forgotten what he said, or had only said itfor something to say. Four quid, and a trifle over; that'll help staveoff Wells. Just in the nick of time too."

  "Yes; isn't it good of him?"

  "Who? Wells? Oh, Wagram. Yes. Quite so. It is rather.
Good job youwent over to Hilversea the other day, Delia; it may have reminded him."

  "I don't think he'd ever have forgotten. Oh, but it was lovely there--the whole thing. It was like being in another atmosphere, anotherworld."

  Clytie, the shrewd, the practical, put her head a little to one side asshe scrutinised her sister.

  "Make it one then, dear; make it yours. You've got some sort of show atlast, if you only work it right. I'm sorry, though, we let Bob into thescheme. What asses we were, or rather I was. One oughtn't so much asto have mentioned a thing of that sort in his hearing."

  "No, indeed. But the idea is too ridiculous for anything."

  "Because he is Wagram Wagram of Hilversea. Supposing he were WagramWagram of nowhere? What then, Delia?"

  "Ah!"

  Clytie shook her pretty head slightly and smiled to herself. The quickeagerness of the exclamation, the soft look that came into her sister'seyes, told her all there was to tell.

  "You're handicapped," she said. "You can't play the part. You'rehandicapped by genuineness. Never mind; even that may count as anadvantage."