Stand Fast, Craig-Royston! (Volume III). William Black
eyes – came in and received his unexpected visitor politely enough.
"De Lara?" said he, when Vincent had told his story. "Well, yes, I know something of De Lara. And a very disagreeable fellow he is to have any dealings with."
"But I don't want to have any dealings with him," Vincent protested, "and I don't see how there should be any necessity. The whole thing is a preposterous attempt at extortion. If only he were to put down on paper what he said to me this evening, I would show him something – or at least I should do so if he and I were in England."
"He is not so foolish," the lawyer said. "Well, what do you propose to do? – compromise for the sake of peace and quietness?"
"Certainly not," was the instant reply.
"He's a mischievous devil," said Mr. Griswold, doubtfully. "And of course you don't want to have things said about you in newspapers, however obscure. Might get sent over to England. Yes, he's a mischievous devil when he turns ugly. What do you say now? – for the sake of peace and quietness – a little matter of a couple of hundred dollars – and nobody need know anything about it – "
"Give a couple of hundred dollars to that infernal scoundrel? – I will see him d – d first!" said Vincent, with a decision that was unmistakeable.
"There's no reason why you should give him a cent – not the slightest," the lawyer went on. "But some people do, to save trouble. However, you will not be remaining long in this city; I see it announced that you are going on a tour through the United States and Canada."
"The fact is, Mr. Griswold," said Vincent, "I came along – at this unholy hour, for which I hope you will forgive me – not to ask you what I should do about that fellow's threats – I don't value them a pin's-point – but merely to see if you knew anything about those two – "
"The De Lara's?"
"Yes, what does he do, to begin with? What's his occupation – his business?"
"Nominally," said Mr. Griswold, "he belongs to my own profession; but I fancy he is more mixed up with some low-class newspapers. I have heard, indeed, that one of his sources of income is levying black-mail on actresses. The poor girls lose nerve, you understand: they won't fight; they would rather 'see' him, as the phrase is, than incur his enmity."
"Well, then, what I want to know still more particularly," the young man proceeded, "is this: is Mrs. de Lara supposed to take part in these pretty little plans for obtaining money?"
The lawyer smiled.
"You ought to know her better than I do; in fact, I don't know her at all."
Vincent was silent for a second.
"No; I should not have imagined it of her. It seems incredible. But if you don't know her personally, perhaps you know what is thought of her? What is her general reputation?"
"Her reputation? I can hardly answer that question. I should say," Mr. Griswold went on, in his slow and deliberate manner, "that there is a kind of – a kind of impression – that, so long as the money was forthcoming, Mrs. de Lara would not be too anxious to inquire where it came from."
"She was at the Captain's table!" Vincent exclaimed.
"Ship captains don't know much about what is going on on shore," was the reply. "Besides, if Mrs. de Lara wanted to sit at the Captain's table, it's at the Captain's table you would find her, and that without much delay! In any case why are you so anxious to find out about Mrs. de Lara's peculiarities – apart from her being a very pretty woman?"
"Oh," said Vincent, as he rose to apologise once more for this intrusion, and to say good-night, "one is always meeting with new experiences. Another lesson in the ways of the world, I suppose."
But all the same, as he walked slowly and thoughtfully back to his hotel, he kept saying to himself that he would rather not believe that Mrs. de Lara had betrayed him and was an accomplice in this shameless attempt to make money out of him. Nay, he said to himself that he would refuse to believe until he was forced to believe: though he did not go a step further, and proceed to ask himself the why and wherefore of this curious reluctance.
CHAPTER III
WEST AND EAST
When Vincent went along the next morning to the office of the Western Scotsman, he was at once shown into the editorial room, and there he found before him a short, thick-set man with a leonine profusion of light chestnut hair thrown back from a lofty forehead, somewhat irregular features, and clear blue eyes that had at present something of a cold scrutiny in them. To any one else, the editor of the Western Scotsman might have appeared a somewhat commonplace-looking person; but to Vincent he was far from commonplace. Here was one who had befriended the two world-wanderers; who had known them in the bygone years; perhaps Maisrie herself had sat, in this very room, patiently waiting, while the two men talked. And yet when he asked for news of old George Bethune and his granddaughter, Mr. Anstruther's manner was unaccountably reserved.
"No," said he, "I know nothing of them, nothing whatever; but I can well understand that George Bethune might be in New York, or might have passed through New York, without calling on me."
"Why?" said Vincent in surprise.
"Oh, well," said the Editor, with some touch of asperity and even of indignation, "I should like to believe the best of an old friend; and certainly George Bethune always seemed to me a loyal Scot – proud of his country – proud of the name he bears, as well he might; but when you find him trying to filch the idea of a book – from a fellow-countryman, too – and making use of the letter of introduction I gave him to Lord Musselburgh to get money – "
"But that can all be explained," said Vincent, eagerly – and he even forgot his immediate disappointment in his desire to clear away those imputations from Maisrie's grandfather. "The money was repaid to Lord Musselburgh as soon as it was found that the American book was coming out; I know it was – I am certain of it; and when the volume did come out, no one was so anxious to welcome it, and give it a helping hand, as Mr. Bethune himself. He wrote the review in the Edinburgh Chronicle– "
"Oh, did he?" said the Editor, with some slight alteration in his tone. "I am glad of that. I could see it was written by some one with ample knowledge: in fact, I quoted the article in the Scotsman, it seemed to me so well done. Yes, I am glad of that," Mr. Anstruther repeated.
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