The Red Derelict

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

  THE BOLT.

  "Well, Squire, I've called to settle up that little matter that has beenoutstanding," said Develin Hunt pleasantly as he took the seat indicatedto him--exactly the same seat, by the way, that he had occupied duringthat first interview in which we made his personal acquaintance.

  "Yes?"

  "Yes. But first of all you'll admit that I haven't hurried you any overthe inquiries you've been making; in fact, have afforded you everyfacility I could in the making of them."

  "Yes; I'll admit that."

  "And it's a case of `as you were.' Well, it's satisfactory to both ofus, because now there's no room for any little mistake. I have enjoyedmy stay in this charming neighbourhood. By the way, I hope you enjoyedyours at the moors, Squire, and had good sport. Well, now, I've got amodification of my former proposal to put to you. I've decided thatthis part of the country, delightful as it is, won't suit me for morethan one reason; so, instead of becoming a neighbour of yours, I wouldsuggest some comfortable little arrangement in hard cash."

  "Yes. May I ask what would meet your requirements? Don't be toomodest, pray."

  The adventurer's face brightened. The easy tone, the satiric banter wasonly the other's philosophical and courtly manner of making the best ofa bad job. He had won the game at last.

  "What do you say to thirty thou? Not all at once; I would be preparedto accept a cheque for twenty-five thou, down, and the rest six monthslater."

  "That would be very considerate of you," laughed the Squire. "I beggedyou not to be too moderate."

  "And I haven't met your wishes, Squire. Thirty thou, is a substantialfigure, but it is a mere half-crown to the Wagrams of Hilversea. It'ssurprising how much I know about the family and its circumstances, yousee. Nearly ruined in fines for persistent recusancy under the penallaws, a lucky speculation or two in building-land and coal mines made ita millionaire over and over again. That's correct, I think, Squire?"

  "Nearly."

  "And all this for the benefit of Everard--`Butcher Ned,' we used to callhim--never mind why. Well, I'm truly glad it needn't go to him afterall. So we'll consider my terms accepted, eh, Squire?"

  "Not so fast--not quite so fast. You don't seem to realise, Mr DevelinHunt, what an exceedingly perilous position you have placed yourself in.How do you know, for instance, that there are not those present, unseenby you, who have been taking down every word of our conversation?"

  The adventurer laughed easily.

  "Oh, as to that, I know it; because Grantley Wagram of Hilversea isconsiderably too complete a gentleman to admit the secret presence of athird party at a confidential conversation."

  In spite of the momentous issues at stake the consummate assurance ofthis man tickled the old Squire's diplomatic soul.

  "I don't know. There is such a thing as fighting the devil with fire--no play on your somewhat peculiar name intended, Mr Hunt," heparenthesised, with a smile. "And the fact remains that you have beendemanding money from me--a large sum--very civilly, I admit,"--with acourtly wave of the hand--"but still demanding it by a threat. That, asI reminded you on the occasion of our first meeting, means in thiscountry a long term of penal servitude."

  "For me?"

  "For whom else?"

  "For Everard."

  Even the cool old diplomat felt his cheeks go waxen, nor could herepress a slight gasp. He remembered the other's assertion on a formeroccasion--to the effect that he had a hold upon Everard--and, bearing inmind Everard and his propensities, he thought it very likely to be true.

  "For Everard," repeated the adventurer. "Every year that it would meanfor me it would mean two for Everard; indeed, it is possible--I don'tsay certain, mind--that it might result in something shorter, sharper,and much quicker over, but--more irrevocable."

  The other felt himself growing paler still. A hopeless, beaten feelingcame upon him now. Curiously enough, he was not without a consciousnessof appreciation of the courteous way in which this man urged hisdemands. There was nothing of the common, bullying insolence of theblackmailer about him. He might almost have been a disinterested friendurging a certain course for the good of the family.

  "Do you mind opening that window a little, Mr Hunt?" he said. "I dobelieve I really am getting old."

  "Delighted, Squire," said the adventurer with alacrity. "Getting old!"as he returned to his seat, "why, you are not even beginning to get old;or, if you are, all I can say is that many a much younger man would beglad to do so on the same terms. But, in any case, why add anotheranxiety--a totally unnecessary anxiety--to your afternoon of life, andall for a paltry thirty thousand pounds, which, as I said before, canonly be, relatively, a mere half-crown to you?"

  "That's all very well; but what guarantee have I that it would endthere?"

  "I would give you an undertaking, cautiously worded, of course, to makeno further demand upon you, nor upon anybody after you, for anotherfarthing."

  "Legally, not worth the paper it's written on," said the Squire.

  "I'm afraid that's so; still, it would make a very strong piece ofpresumptive evidence against me if I did fail to keep my word. You maytrust me this time. I don't profess to be a saint or angel, I own tohaving done some pretty tough things in my time, but one thing I neverhave done, and that is to go back on a fair, square, and honest deal.Think of your son, Squire--Wagram, I mean--I have seen him more thanonce, not always when he has seen me. By the way, he turned me off hereonce when I was trespassing, but he did it in such a nice way, asbetween one gentleman and another. He's a fine fellow--a splendidfellow--and I've heard a good deal more about him than I've seen. Well,isn't it a thousand pities that life should be ruined for him, and hisson after him--I have seen him too, by-the-by--and all because you can'tbring yourself to look at things from my standpoint, which is thatnecessity has no law?"

  There was silence for a few moments. In saying that he had seen more ofWagram than the latter knew Develin Hunt was speaking no more than thetruth. He had noted the quiet happiness of the man's flawless life, hadgleaned some idea of his intense joy of possession, and had done so withconsiderable satisfaction in that it would all go to further his ownplans. No man living, he argued, would think twice as to what hisaction would be when called upon to choose between paying down what was,relatively speaking, an inconsiderable sum and throwing up hispossessions and his name, and the name of his son after him--and to thecase of this one was added an almost unlimited power for good. To do sowould be the action of a stark, staring, raving lunatic, and it wasabundantly certain Wagram was not that.

  "Well, Squire, now is the time to make up your mind. It is importantthat I should go up to London to-night, and unless I take your chequefor twenty-five thousand with me I shall be under the necessity ofpostponing my departure for a day or two and applying to your sonWagram. I believe he would gladly give double the amount. Think! it isto save his name--his name, mind--and his son's after him."

  The old man felt beaten. It was not the money value that afflicted him;he would cheerfully have parted with double the amount if by so doing hecould close the other's mouth for ever, but he doubted whether in anycase he could do this for long. Sooner or later Hunt would come downupon him for more--it was the way of blackmailers for all time--nor didhe in the least believe this one would keep his undertaking to make nofurther demand. And this disreputable adventurer had the power to holda sword over Wagram's head indefinitely. He remembered as a far-offthing his agreement with Monsignor Culham--here in this very room--notto give this man another shilling. Yet now matters looked differently;he felt himself cornered beyond all hope of deliverance.

  "Give me the undertaking you mentioned just now," he said at last. "Sitdown there and draw it up," pointing to another writing-table.

  "No need, Squire, I have it here all ready; I knew we should come toterms. Here it is, and you may rely upon my adhering to it rigidly."

  He produced a paper with some w
riting on it as the Squire, slowlyunlocking a drawer, produced his chequebook. A moment more and theadventurer could hardly contain his exultation. A cheque for 25,000pounds was in his hand.

  "It will be a satisfaction for you to see me sign this yourself,Squire," and stooping over the writing-table he affixed his signature.As he did so the door opened, admitting Wagram.

  Even had the latter no other reason for coming in, then one glance athis father's face would have told him that something was very wrongindeed. The Squire seemed to have aged by twenty years.

  "Ah, good-morning, Mr Wagram," said the adventurer cheerily, looking up."Your father and I have just been getting through a little piece ofbusiness together, and we have got through it with complete satisfactionto both parties. Yes; to both parties," he repeated emphatically.

  "May I ask its nature? My father's business affairs are mine in theredays."

  "Ah, but not this one--no, not this one. It's an exception, believeme," was the answer, accompanied by a pleasant laugh. "And now I thinkI will say good-bye."

  "One moment, Mr Develin Hunt," said Wagram, "but I fear I must detainyou a little longer, there is something that needs explanation."

  The other looked at the tall form, literally barring his way, and aghastly misgiving was upon him. The cheque for 25,000 pounds--would hebe forced to disgorge? But he replied, easily, pleasantly:

  "Quite a mistake. No explanation needed. Is there, Squire?"

  Wagram looked sharply at his father, whose only answer was afeebly-assenting headshake.

  "Ah, but there is," he resumed. "For instance, there is one remark youmade just now to the effect that I would gladly give double the amountto save my name, and that of my son after me. Now, that remark doesemphatically need explaining."

  "You heard that?" said the adventurer shortly.

  "Couldn't help it. This room is only one storey from ground. Given anopen window and still autumn air, and--"

  Develin Hunt mentally ground his teeth and cursed. So it was with apurpose the Squire had asked him to open the window! As a matter ofreal fact, this was not the case. Oh, the old fox, with all hisblandness and soft sawder! He felt vicious.

  "That all you heard?" he said shortly.

  "Enough, wasn't it? Now, will you kindly tell me in what way my nameneeds saving; for, looking back, though I have been through hard times,I cannot--thank God--call to mind any instance of having ever disgracedit."

  The adventurer felt a wave of intense relief. This was how Wagram hadread his words! Well, he would reassure him on that point; perhaps hemight even yet save the situation.

  "No! no! no!" he said emphatically. "Great Scott! Mr Wagram, butyou've got hold of the wrong end of the stick there. Why, your namestands on a pedestal all around here, and, if you will allow me to sayso, it thoroughly deserves to. Now, be advised by me. Leave thisaffair alone. It is between myself and your father, and reflectsdiscredit upon nobody named Wagram--take my word for that."

  You see, he was plausible, almost persuasive, this rough-and-tumble WestAfrican adventurer. But Wagram shook his head.

  "Not satisfactory," he said. "I still demand to know in what way myname needs `saving'--and that of my son after me, you added."

  "You demand?"

  "Yes."

  Develin Hunt looked at the man standing over him very stern andstraight, then he looked at the Squire. He would have given anything tohave avoided this, but since his hand had been forced it was, perhaps,as well that Wagram should know all--should know where he stood.Perhaps the Squire thought the same, for he said no word, gave no sign.

  "In the name of God, leave things where they are, man!" conjured theadventurer in a real outburst of feeling. He was not all bad. He hadgot his price, and he felt an intense respect and pity for the manbefore him. He would make one more effort. "I tell you nobody'sdiscredit is involved here. We can't always _know_ everything--it isn'tgood for us. As for me, I have pledged my solemn word you shall neverbe troubled by me again. Now, let me go."

  Still Wagram did not move. He had heard of this man's former visit, butas his father had not mentioned it to him he himself had kept silence onthe subject. But he had put two and two together, and had connected itwith days of depression under which the old Squire had suffered.Moreover, it struck him that his father had undergone a subtle change,had not been quite the same ever since. Now he had come in and foundhim in a state of collapse after another interview with this man. Hisown name, too, had been brought up, and in such a manner.

  "No," he answered; "not yet. This mystery must be cleared up before youleave this room. I repeat my former question: In what way does my namerequire `saving'?"

  "Oh, if you will be so obstinate!" answered Develin Hunt excitedly, "youhave only yourself to blame. I've done all I could for you. Since you_will_ have it, your name--well, it isn't your name."

  "Not my name?" repeated Wagram in a strange voice. "Man, are you mad,or only drunk?"

  "Neither," returned the adventurer doggedly. "Well, then, your motherwas married to me before she married your father. She was not to blame.She thought I was dead. If you don't believe me ask the Squire here."

  There was no need to ask the Squire. The old man nodded assent; he wasincapable of speech just then.

  "Are you--trying--to make me believe, then, that _you_ are, my father?"said Wagram in a dry, hardly articulate kind of voice.

  "No, no--not for a moment. But, of course, the second marriage wasinvalid. Now, do you take in the position?"

  "Yes."

  Wagram's face had gone livid and his tall form seemed to sway. Nofurther word would come. But for the set, gleaming stare of the eyes hemight have been a corpse trying to stand upright. The sight was awful,indescribably so. Even the hard, unscrupulous adventurer was moved toconcern and compunction.

  "For God's sake, don't take it like this," he adjured. "Pull yourselftogether, man. The thing is a secret between us three, and need neverbe anything else. Send for a big tot of brandy, or something to steadyyour nerves. It's a facer, but nothing need come of it."

  For answer Wagram only shook his head, and moved unsteadily to the openwindow, where he stood, looking out. There was nothing to preventDevelin Hunt walking out of the house with his 25,000 pound cheque inhis pocket; and, to do him justice, it was not the thought that thismight be stopped by telegram that restrained him. Yet he did not sowalk out.