The Red Derelict

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  CONCERNING TWO CLAIMS.

  "God bless my soul!" ejaculated the old Squire in a startled tone. Thenrelapsing into mirth: "Is it meant for a joke?"

  "What?" asked Wagram, who was engaged in the same occupation--investigating letters which had just come by the afternoon post.

  "This," said the Squire, handing across the letter he had been reading."Why, it's too comical. I never heard of such preposterous impudence inmy life." And he began to pace up and down the hall.

  Wagram took the letter, and the first glance down it was enough to makehim thoroughly agree with his father, except that he felt moved to evengreater anger. For the heading showed that it emanated from the officeof Pownall and Skreet, Solicitors, Bassingham, and its burden was toclaim the sum of one thousand pounds damages "on behalf of our client,Miss Delia Calmour, by reason of certain severe bodily injuries receivedby her from a certain ferocious and dangerous animal, your property,suffered to be at large at such and such a time and place, the latter apublic highway." And so on.

  "Is it a joke, Wagram?" repeated the old Squire.

  "If so, it's an uncommonly bad one," was the answer; "in fact, rotten.No, I wouldn't have believed it of the girl--really, I wouldn't."

  His father smiled slightly, but refrained from retorting: "What did Itell you?"

  "And yet the other day," he pursued, "she came in among us all, and wetreated her as one of ourselves. Yet all the time she was scheming aplan of vulgar and most outrageous blackmail."

  "That's the worst part of it," said Wagram with some bitterness. "Seewhat comes of thinking oneself too knowing. I could have sworn the girlwas a good girl and honest; she had honest eyes."

  "Honest! You can't mention the word in connection with that low-down,scheming, blackmailing brood."

  "Well, there you have me, father, I admit," answered Wagram. "Youadvised me against them, and I took my own line. I sing small."

  "Oh, that's no matter. The question is: What are we going to do? Takeno notice?"

  "I should send her the money."

  "What! Why, Wagram, it's preposterous. Why, on your own showing thegirl wasn't hurt at all. A thousand pounds?"

  "Still, I should send it. We shouldn't feel it. I expect these peopleare in desperate straits, and I've known that enviable conditionmyself."

  "Send it? Great heavens, Wagram! A thousand pounds for that old sot tosoak on?"

  "No, no. Send it so that nobody has the handling of it but the girlherself. She behaved very pluckily, remember. I'm almost sure shesaved my life."

  "Yes; but if you hadn't come to her rescue it wouldn't have been indanger, as I said before," replied the Squire somewhat testily.

  "Well, perhaps not; but the situation was inevitable. I couldn't slinkaway and leave her to be hacked to death by the brute."

  "All right. I'll leave it to you, Wagram. Do as you think fit."

  "Very well," was the answer as he busied himself again with his letters.Then he repressed a quick whistle of astonishment.

  "Pownall and Skreet again. Another thousand pounds!" he mentallyejaculated. And, in fact, it was just that; and this time the claim wasmade on himself on behalf of "our client, Mr Robert Calmour, by reasonof injuries sustained in the unprovoked savage and brutal assaultcommitted by you upon him, on the public highway," at such and such atime and place.

  "Pownall and Skreet are having a merry innings," he thought to himself;and then he laughed, for a recollection of the said Mr Robert Calmour'sfrantic rebound from the gate when that worthy first came in contactwith the ground-ash rushed overwhelmingly upon him. But astonishmentunderlay. So that was the identity of the fellow he had thrashed!Could it be Delia's brother? Why, it must be; and then he rememberedthe running epitome as to their family and its habits which Clytie hadgiven him on the occasion of his call at Siege House. Well, theCalmours were on the war-path this time, and no mistake.

  "What's the joke, Wagram?" said the old Squire, who was looking out ofthe window and had his back turned.

  "Something reminded me of the cad I whacked the other day, and it wasfunny." He decided not to let his father into a knowledge of this otherimpudent demand. It he would know how to deal with himself. "Who arePownall and Skreet?"

  "Two rascally solicitors in Bassingham."

  "All right. You've left it to me now, father. Don't you worry any moreabout the affair; it's out of your hands."

  "Oh, I shan't bother about it."

  Soon after Wagram took up the rabbit rifle and strolled forth to try along-distance shot or two; but his mind was full of the demand they hadjust received--that on behalf of Delia: to Bob's affair he did not givea further thought. He had felt interested in the girl; had thought todiscern a great deal of good in her; had even been wondering what hecould do to help her. He owned himself astonished--astonished anddisgusted. Had it been the other the result would not have surprisedhim. Looking back, too, he thought to discern a potential slynessbeneath Clytie's open ingenuousness; but as to this one he wasdisappointed.

  Then he remembered that he had, in a way, taken her up, and through himHaldane. She was no fit companion for Yvonne, and at this thought hisdisgust deepened. Well, it would be easy to let Haldane judge forhimself, and at sight of the lawyer's letter he knew what Haldane'sjudgment would be. Then, too, he recalled her demeanour on the occasionof last week's solemnity: how she had affected an interest in it, and soon. All acting, of course; possibly due to the acquiring of a cheaphonour and glory among her own set as having been seen among the partyat Hilversea Court. Innately very much of a misogynist, Wagram'sbitterness in a matter of this kind needed no spur, no stimulant. Hefelt very bitter towards this girl with the straightforward eyes andappealing ways who had so effectually bamboozled him. It was noquestion of the amount--that, as he had said, they would not feel--itwas the way in which the thing had been done. And, having arrived atthis conclusion, he looked up, and there, skimming towards him on herbicycle, was the object of his cogitations. The method of that briefinterview we know.

  Thereafter Wagram resumed his way. It was only natural, he argued, thatshe should affect ignorance, utter innocence, as to what had transpired.Another bit of acting. He hoped he had not been manifestlydiscourteous, but he could not have trusted himself to prolong themeeting. Now he would dismiss the matter from his mind. He had made agrievous error of judgment, and when the affair became known he wouldbecome something of a laughing-stock. For that, however, he carednothing.

  Delia, for her part, felt as if she had just received a blow on the headas she wheeled homeward in a semi-dazed condition. The sight of Bob inthe doorway--Bob, perky, expansive, more raffish than usual--did nottend to soothe her either.

  "Hullo! What's the row?" he cried as she pushed past him. "You'relooking like a boiled owl. Too much of Haldane's champagne, eh?" Forhe delighted to tease Delia, did this amiable youth; she was putting ontoo much side of late, and wanted taking down a peg, he declared. WithClytie he had to mind his P's and Q's, as we have seen. Now the latterappeared to the rescue.

  "Clear out, Bob," she said. "What a young cur you are! A jolly goodlicking would do you all the good in the world, and I wonder every daythat someone or other doesn't give you one; only I suppose you keep yourcurrishness for us."

  "Oh, do you?" snarled Bob, in whom the words awoke a perfectly agonisingrecollection. "Who the deuce cares what you think or don't think?" headded, the sting of the allusion rendering him oblivious of the fiveshillings he had been intending to "borrow" from the--for the present--earning one of the family. Besides, he would be flush enough directly,then he would be in a position to round upon Clytie for the domineeringway in which she had been treating him of late. When he got histhousand pounds, or even half of it, he had a good mind to chuck hisberth with Pownall and Skreet and clear off to South Africa, orsomewhere, and make his fortune. When he got it!

  Paying no further attention to him, both girls
made straight for theirroom.

  "I've got a ghastly headache," said Delia, throwing herself upon thebed. "I believe I got a touch of the sun."

  "Yes; it's been infernally hot--is still. Well, did you have a goodtime of it otherwise?"

  "Perfect; yes, perfect," she answered, with a bitterness begotten of astrong instinct that it was the last she would have of any good times ofthat sort. "Do you know, Clytie, the contrast is too awful. It'sbrought home to one so, and it hurts. I think I shall try and get somework again that'll take me away, and keep me at it from morning tillnight--that'll be the only thing."

  Clytie knew better than to question her further at that time.

  "You turn in and get to sleep," she said, "and I'll bring you somethingthat'll send you off like a humming-top. Don't go down again; and ifthat rascal Bob does anything to disturb you I'll--I'll--well, he'dseriously better not."

  She had her good points, you see, this handsome, slang-affecting,cold-blooded schemer.

  Throughout the whole of the next day Delia was very miserable anddepressed; only now did she realise what an obsession this secret cultushad become. What had she done to offend its object? Had any of herbelongings done so, her father, perhaps, or Bob? She questioned Clytieas to this, but on that head could get no satisfaction.

  "Let me think it out," said the latter. "I'll keep my ears open too.It's a thousand pities my scheme should fall through. But, Delia, youmust buck up. It's of no use going about looking, as Bob said, like aboiled owl. Buck up."

  While she was dressing the following morning there came a whole-heartedbang at Delia's door, coupled with the somewhat raucous voice of Bob.

  "Here, I say, Delia; here's a registered letter for you. Oof, ofcourse. Well, I claim my commission for bringing it."

  "`Costs' shouldn't it be?" she answered. "Well, push it under thedoor."

  "There's the receipt too. You must sign it, and shove it back again.Postman's waiting."

  This was done, and Delia looked at the registered envelope, wondering.Nobody owed her money, nor was there anyone in the wide world who wouldbe in the least likely to give her any. There was a certain amount ofexcitement about the conjecture--something like the solving of aninteresting conundrum. Then she cut open the envelope.

  It contained a letter written on stiff, blue-grey, lawyer-like paper.Over this was the turned down end of a cheque. She looked at the chequebefore the letter, and then--Great heavens! what did it mean? For thecharacters on the oblong slip danced before her amazed eyes.

  "_Pay Miss Delia Calmour one thousand pounds_.

  "Grantley Wagram."

  One thousand pounds? Grantley Wagram? What did it mean? In Heaven'sname, what did it mean? With trembling hands she spread out the letter.But it was not to herself. It was, in fact, the letter of demand whichwe have already seen the old Squire receive.

  What did it mean? Delia was simply dumfoundered. She had neverinstructed anybody to claim damages in her life, either from the Wagramsor anyone else. Pownall and Skreet! Ah-h! They were Bob's employers.Now she saw light. Her father and Bob had put up this between them.She remembered her suspicions with regard to them, or at any rate herfather, two mornings ago. All now stood explained.

  With eager hands she looked once more into the envelope, but itcontained no further communication, no line or word addressed toherself, no explanation. There was the letter of demand, and thetangible evidence of compliance therewith in full. The sender hadclearly deemed further explanation unnecessary.

  How she completed her dressing Delia hardly knew, so consumed was shewith a burning longing to get at those who had placed her in thisshameful position. No wonder Wagram's demeanour had been what it hadwhen the girl to whom he had shown kindness had revealed herself as amere blackmailing adventuress--a gainer of money under false pretences.Heavens! it would not bear thinking upon. Well, first to give theschemers a piece of her mind, then to rectify in so far as it lay withinher power the shameful wrong they had done her.