II
There are some situations in life so unexpected, so trying, that,as far as concerns our opinion of those subjected to them, weagree, as it were, not to count them; we refuse to allow thevictim's behaviour in circumstances so exacting to weigh with usin our estimate of his or her character. We permit the greatgeneral, confronted suddenly with a mad bull, to turn and run,without forfeiting his reputation for courage. The bishop who,stepping on a concealed slide in winter, entertains passers-bywith momentary rag-time steps, loses none of his dignity once theperformance is concluded.
In the same way we must condone the behaviour of Cynthia Drassilison opening the door of Mrs Ford's sitting-room and admitting, notOgden, but this total stranger, who accompanied his entry with theremarkable speech recorded at the close of the last section.
She was a girl who prided herself on her carefully blase' andsupercilious attitude towards life; but this changeling was toomuch for her. She released the handle, tottered back, and, havinguttered a discordant squeak of amazement, stood staring, eyes andmouth wide open.
On Mrs Ford the apparition had a different effect. The ratherfoolish smile of welcome vanished from her face as if wiped awaywith a sponge. Her eyes, fixed and frightened like those of atrapped animal, glared at the intruder. She took a step forward,choking.
'What--what do you mean by daring to enter my room?' she cried.
The man held his ground, unmoved. His bearing was a curious blendof diffidence and aggressiveness. He was determined, butapologetic. A hired assassin of the Middle Ages, resolved to dohis job loyally, yet conscious of causing inconvenience to hisvictim, might have looked the same.
'I am sorry,' he said, 'but I must ask you to let me have the boy,Mrs Ford.'
Cynthia was herself again now. She raked the intruder with thecool stare which had so disconcerted Lord Mountry.
'Who is this gentleman?' she asked languidly.
The intruder was made of tougher stuff than his lordship. He mether eye with quiet firmness.
'My name is Mennick,' he said. 'I am Mr Elmer Ford's privatesecretary.'
'What do you want?' said Mrs Ford.
'I have already explained what I want, Mrs Ford. I want Ogden.'
Cynthia raised her eyebrows.
'What _does_ he mean, Nesta? Ogden is not here.'
Mr Mennick produced from his breast-pocket a telegraph form, andin his quiet, business-like way proceeded to straighten it out.
'I have here,' he said, 'a telegram from Mr Broster, Ogden'stutor. It was one of the conditions of his engagement that if everhe was not certain of Ogden's whereabouts he should let me know atonce. He tells me that early this afternoon he left Ogden in thecompany of a strange young lady'--Mr Mennick's spectacles flashedfor a moment at Cynthia--'and that, when he returned, both of themhad disappeared. He made inquiries and discovered that this younglady caught the 1.15 express to London, Ogden with her. On receiptof this information I at once wired to Mr Ford for instructions. Ihave his reply'--he fished for and produced a second telegram--'here.'
'I still fail to see what brings you here,' said Mrs Ford. 'Owingto the gross carelessness of his father's employees, my sonappears to have been kidnapped. That is no reason--'
'I will read Mr Ford's telegram,' proceeded Mr Mennick unmoved.'It is rather long. I think Mr Ford is somewhat annoyed. "The boyhas obviously been stolen by some hireling of his mother's." I amreading Mr Ford's actual words,' he said, addressing Cynthia withthat touch of diffidence which had marked his manner since hisentrance.
'Don't apologize,' said Cynthia, with a short laugh. 'You're notresponsible for Mr Ford's rudeness.'
Mr Mennick bowed.
'He continued: "Remove him from her illegal restraint. Ifnecessary call in police and employ force."'
'Charming!' said Mrs Ford.
'Practical,' said Mr Mennick. 'There is more. "Before doinganything else sack that fool of a tutor, then go to Agency andhave them recommend good private school for boy. On no accountengage another tutor. They make me tired. Fix all this today. SendOgden back to Eastnor with Mrs Sheridan. She will stay there withhim till further notice." That is Mr Ford's message.'
Mr Mennick folded both documents carefully and replaced them inhis pocket.
Mrs Ford looked at the clock.
'And now, would you mind going, Mr Mennick?'
'I am sorry to appear discourteous, Mrs Ford, but I cannot gowithout Ogden.'
'I shall telephone to the office to send up a porter to removeyou.'
'I shall take advantage of his presence to ask him to fetch apoliceman.'
In the excitement of combat the veneer of apologetic diffidencewas beginning to wear off Mr Mennick. He spoke irritably. Cynthiaappealed to his reason with the air of a bored princess descendingto argument with a groom.
'Can't you see for yourself that he's not here?' she said. 'Do youthink we are hiding him?'
'Perhaps you would like to search my bedroom?' said Mrs Ford,flinging the door open.
Mr Mennick remained uncrushed.
'Quite unnecessary, Mrs Ford. I take it, from the fact that hedoes not appear to be in this suite, that he is downstairs makinga late luncheon in the restaurant.'
'I shall telephone--'
'And tell them to send him up. Believe me, Mrs Ford, it is theonly thing to do. You have my deepest sympathy, but I am employedby Mr Ford and must act solely in his interests. The law is on myside. I am here to fetch Ogden away, and I am going to have him.'
'You shan't!'
'I may add that, when I came up here, I left Mrs Sheridan--she isa fellow-secretary of mine. You may remember Mr Ford mentioningher in his telegram--I left her to search the restaurant andgrill-room, with instructions to bring Ogden, if found, to me inthis room.'
The door-bell rang. He went to the door and opened it.
'Come in, Mrs Sheridan. Ah!'
A girl in a plain, neat blue dress entered the room. She was asmall, graceful girl of about twenty-five, pretty and brisk, withthe air of one accustomed to look after herself in a difficultworld. Her eyes were clear and steady, her mouth sensitive butfirm, her chin the chin of one who has met trouble and faced itbravely. A little soldier.
She was shepherding Ogden before her, a gorged but still sullenOgden. He sighted Mr Mennick and stopped.
'Hello!' he said. 'What have you blown in for?'
'He was just in the middle of his lunch,' said the girl. 'Ithought you wouldn't mind if I let him finish.'
'Say, what's it all about, anyway?' demanded Ogden crossly. 'Can'ta fellow have a bit of grub in peace? You give me a pain.'
Mr Mennick explained.
'Your father wishes you to return to Eastnor, Ogden.'
'Oh, all right. I guess I'd better go, then. Good-bye, ma.'
Mrs Ford choked.
'Kiss me, Ogden.'
Ogden submitted to the embrace in sulky silence. The otherscomported themselves each after his or her own fashion. Mr Mennickfingered his chin uncomfortably. Cynthia turned to the table andpicked up an illustrated paper. Mrs Sheridan's eyes filled withtears. She took a half-step towards Mrs Ford, as if about tospeak, then drew back.
'Come, Ogden,' said Mr Mennick gruffly. Necessary, this HiredAssassin work, but painful--devilish painful. He breathed a sighof relief as he passed into the corridor with his prize.
At the door Mrs Sheridan hesitated, stopped, and turned.
'I'm sorry,' she said impulsively.
Mrs Ford turned away without speaking, and went into the bedroom.
Cynthia laid down her paper.
'One moment, Mrs Sheridan.'
The girl had turned to go. She stopped.
'Can you give me a minute? Come in and shut the door. Won't yousit down? Very well. You seemed sorry for Mrs Ford just now.'
'I am very sorry for Mrs Ford. Very sorry. I hate to see hersuffering. I wish Mr Mennick had not brought me into this.'
'Nesta's mad about that boy,' said Cynthia. 'Heaven knows why._I_ never saw suc
h a repulsive child in my life. However,there it is. I am sorry for you. I gathered from what Mr Mennicksaid that you were to have a good deal of Ogden's society for sometime to come. How do you feel about it?'
Mrs Sheridan moved towards the door.
'I must be going,' she said. 'Mr Mennick will be waiting for me.'
'One moment. Tell me, don't you think, after what you saw justnow, that Mrs Ford is the proper person to have charge of Ogden?You see how devoted she is to him?'
'May I be quite frank with you?'
'Please.'
'Well, then, I think that Mrs Ford's influence is the worstpossible for Ogden. I am sorry for her, but that does not alter myopinion. It is entirely owing to Mrs Ford that Ogden is what heis. She spoiled him, indulged him in every way, never checkedhim--till he has become--well, what you yourself called him,repulsive.'
Cynthia laughed.
'Oh well,' she said, 'I only talked that mother's love stuffbecause you looked the sort of girl who would like it. We can dropall that now, and come down to business.'
'I don't understand you.'
'You will. I don't know if you think that I kidnapped Ogden fromsheer affection for Mrs Ford. I like Nesta, but not as much asthat. No. I'm one of the Get-Rich-Quick-Wallingfords, and I'mlooking out for myself all the time. There's no one else to do itfor me. I've a beastly home. My father's dead. My mother's a cat.So--'
'Please stop,' said Mrs Sheridan. I don't know why you are tellingme all this.'
'Yes, you do. I don't know what salary Mr Ford pays you, but Idon't suppose it's anything princely. Why don't you come over tous? Mrs Ford would give you the earth if you smuggled Ogden backto her.'
'You seem to be trying to bribe me,' said Mrs Sheridan.
'In this case,' said Cynthia, 'appearances aren't deceptive. Iam.'
'Good afternoon.'
'Don't be a little fool.'
The door slammed.
'Come back!' cried Cynthia. She took a step as if to follow, butgave up the idea with a laugh. She sat down and began to read herillustrated paper again. Presently the bedroom door opened. MrsFord came in. She touched her eyes with a handkerchief as sheentered. Cynthia looked up.
'I'm very sorry, Nesta,' she said.
Mrs Ford went to the window and looked out.
'I'm not going to break down, if that's what you mean,' she said.'I don't care. And, anyhow, it shows that it _can_ be done.'
Cynthia turned a page of her paper.
'I've just been trying my hand at bribery and corruption.'
'What do you mean?'
'Oh, I promised and vowed many things in your name to thatsecretary person, the female one--not Mennick--if she would helpus. Nothing doing. I told her to let us have Ogden as soon aspossible, C.O.D., and she withered me with a glance and went.'
Mrs Ford shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
'Oh, let her go. I'm sick of amateurs.'
'Thank you, dear,' said Cynthia.
'Oh, I know you did your best. For an amateur you did wonderfullywell. But amateurs never really succeed. There were a dozen littleeasy precautions which we neglected to take. What we want is aprofessional; a man whose business is kidnapping; the sort of manwho kidnaps as a matter of course; someone like Smooth SamFisher.'
'My dear Nesta! Who? I don't think I know the gentleman.'
'He tried to kidnap Ogden in 1906, when we were in New York. Atleast, the police put it down to him, though they could provenothing. Then there was a horrible man, the police said he wascalled Buck MacGinnis. He tried in 1907. That was in Chicago.'
'Good gracious! Kidnapping Ogden seems to be as popular asfootball. And I thought I was a pioneer!'
Something approaching pride came into Mrs Ford's voice.
'I don't suppose there's a child in America,' she said, 'who hashad to be so carefully guarded. Why, the kidnappers had a specialname for him--they called him "The Little Nugget". For years wenever allowed him out of our sight without a detective to watchhim.'
'Well, Mr Ford seems to have changed all that now. I saw nodetectives. I suppose he thinks they aren't necessary in England.Or perhaps he relied on Mr Broster. Poor Reggie!'
'It was criminally careless of him. This will be a lesson to him.He will be more careful in future how he leaves Ogden at the mercyof anybody who cares to come along and snap him up.'
'Which, incidentally, does not make your chance of getting himaway any lighter.'
'Oh, I've given up hope now,' said Mrs Ford resignedly.
'_I_ haven't,' said Cynthia.
There was something in her voice which made her companion turnsharply and look at her. Mrs Ford might affect to be resigned, butshe was a woman of determination, and if the recent reverse hadleft her bruised, it had by no means crushed her.
'Cynthia! What do you mean? What are you hinting?'
'You despise amateurs, Nesta, but, for all that, it seems thatyour professionals who kidnap as a matter of course and all therest of it have not been a bit more successful. It was not my wantof experience that made me fail. It was my sex. This is man'swork. If I had been a man, I should at least have had brute forceto fall back upon when Mr Mennick arrived.'
Mrs Ford nodded.
'Yes, but--'
'And,' continued Cynthia, 'as all these Smooth Sam Fishers ofyours have failed too, it is obvious that the only way to kidnapOgden is from within. We must have some man working for us in theenemy's camp.'
'Which is impossible,' said Mrs Ford dejectedly.
'Not at all.'
'You know a man?'
'I know _the_ man.'
'Cynthia! What do you mean? Who is he?'
'His name is Peter Burns.'
Mrs Ford shook her head.
'I don't know him.'
'I'll introduce you. You'll like him.'
'But, Cynthia, how do you know he would be willing to help us?'
'He would do it for me,' Cynthia paused. 'You see,' she went on,'we are engaged to be married.'
'My dear Cynthia! Why did you not tell me? When did it happen?'
'Last night at the Fletchers' dance.'
Mrs Ford's eyes opened.
'Last night! Were you at a dance last night? And two railwayjourneys today! You must be tired to death.'
'Oh, I'm all right, thanks. I suppose I shall be a wreck and notfit to be seen tomorrow, but just at present I feel as if nothingcould tire me. It's the effect of being engaged, perhaps.'
'Tell me about him.'
'Well, he's rich, and good-looking, and amiable'--Cynthia tickedoff these qualities on her fingers--'and I think he's brave, andhe's certainly not so stupid as Mr Broster.'
'And you're very much in love with him?'
'I like him. There's no harm in Peter.'
'You certainly aren't wildly enthusiastic!'
'Oh, we shall hit it off quite well together. I needn't pose to_you_, Nesta, thank goodness! That's one reason why I'm fondof you. You know how I am situated. I've got to marry some onerich, and Peter's quite the nicest rich man I've ever met. He'sreally wonderfully unselfish. I can't understand it. With hismoney, you would expect him to be a perfect horror.'
A thought seemed to strike Mrs Ford.
'But, if he's so rich--' she began. 'I forget what I was going tosay,' she broke off.
'Dear Nesta, I know what you were going to say. If he's so rich,why should he be marrying me, when he could take his pick of halfLondon? Well, I'll tell you. He's marrying me for one reason,because he's sorry for me: for another, because I had the sense tomake him. He didn't think he was going to marry anyone. A fewyears ago he had a disappointment. A girl jilted him. She musthave been a fool. He thought he was going to live the rest of hislife alone with his broken heart. I didn't mean to allow that.It's taken a long time--over two years, from start to finish--butI've done it. He's a sentimentalist. I worked on his sympathy, andlast night I made him propose to me at the Fletchers' dance.'
Mrs Ford had not listened to these confidences unmove
d. Severaltimes she had tried to interrupt, but had been brushed aside. Nowshe spoke sharply.
'You know I was not going to say anything of the kind. And I don'tthink you should speak in this horrible, cynical way of--of--'
She stopped, flushing. There were moments when she hated Cynthia.These occurred for the most part when the latter, as now, stirredher to an exhibition of honest feeling which she looked on asrather unbecoming. Mrs Ford had spent twenty years trying toforget that her husband had married her from behind the counter ofa general store in an Illinois village, and these lapses into theuncultivated genuineness of her girlhood made her uncomfortable.
'I wasn't going to say anything of the kind,' she repeated.
Cynthia was all smiling good-humour.
'I know. I was only teasing you. "Stringing", they call it in yourcountry, don't they?'
Mrs Ford was mollified.
'I'm sorry, Cynthia. I didn't mean to snap at you. All thesame ...' She hesitated. What she wanted to ask smacked sodreadfully of Mechanicsville, Illinois. Yet she put the questionbravely, for she was somehow feeling quite troubled about thisunknown Mr Burns. 'Aren't you really fond of him at all, Cynthia?'
Cynthia beamed.
'Of course I am! He's a dear. Nothing would make me give him up.I'm devoted to old Peter. I only told you all that about himbecause it shows you how kind-hearted he is. He'll do anything forme. Well, shall I sound him about Ogden?'
The magic word took Mrs Ford's mind off the matrimonial future ofMr Burns, and brought him into prominence in his capacity ofknight-errant. She laughed happily. The contemplation of Mr Burnsas knight-errant healed the sting of defeat. The affair of MrMennick began to appear in the light of a mere skirmish.
'You take my breath away!' she said. 'How do you propose that MrBurns shall help us?'
'It's perfectly simple. You heard Mr Mennick read that telegram.Ogden is to be sent to a private school. Peter shall go theretoo.'
'But how? I don't understand. We don't know which school MrMennick will choose.'
'We can very soon find out.'
'But how can Mr Burns go there?'
'Nothing easier. He will be a young man who has been left a littlemoney and wants to start a school of his own. He goes to Ogden'sman and suggests that he pay a small premium to come to him for aterm as an extra-assistant-master, to learn the business. Mr Manwill jump at him. He will be getting the bargain of his life.Peter didn't get much of a degree at Oxford, but I believe he waswonderful at games. From a private-school point of view he's atreasure.'
'But--would he do it?'
'I think I can persuade him.'
Mrs Ford kissed her with an enthusiasm which hitherto she hadreserved for Ogden.
'My darling girl,' she cried, 'if you knew how happy you have mademe!'
'I do,' said Cynthia definitely. 'And now you can do the same forme.'
'Anything, anything! You must have some more hats.'
'I don't want any more hats. I want to go with you on LordMountry's yacht to the Riviera.'
'Of course,' said Mrs Ford after a slight pause, 'it isn't myparty, you know, dear.'
'No. But you can work me in, darling.'
'It's quite a small party. Very quiet.'
'Crowds bore me. I enjoy quiet.'
Mrs Ford capitulated.
'I fancy you are doing me a very good turn,' she said. 'You mustcertainly come on the yacht.'
'I'll tell Peter to come straight round here now,' said Cynthiasimply. She went to the telephone.
Part Two
In which other interested parties, notably one Buck MacGinnis anda trade rival, Smooth Sam Fisher, make other plans for the Nugget'sfuture. Of stirring times at a private school for young gentlemen.Of stratagems, spoils, and alarms by night. Of journeys ending inlovers' meetings. The whole related by Mr Peter Burns, gentlemanof leisure, who forfeits that leisure in a good cause.
Peter Burns's Narrative
The Little Nugget Page 2