A Fatal Dose. Fred M. White
what does it all mean?” Cleave asked. “Whence all this splendour? When I last saw you you were in a tobacconist’s shop. Mind you, Nell, I always said you would get on, always prophesied that you would do something for yourself in the world, and you have progressed a little farther than I expected. A good marriage, I suppose—”
The woman laughed in a light-hearted fashion. She was looking after Cleave’s creature comforts; he was trying to eat now as if he were accustomed to this kind of thing. He fought against his wolfish appetite.
“There is no husband,” Eleanor Marsh said. “In fact, there never has been. I still retain my own name; sudden changes of that kind would have been awkward sometimes. Behold in me, my dear Jasper, Mrs. Eleanor Marsh, the widow of a deceased Virginian gentleman of good family and fairly good means. That is the role that I have played more or less successfully for the past two years. It is astonishing what a little impudence, allied to a fair amount of ability, can do in this so-called Society of yours. Behold me now, fresh from the reception of a duchess; but I have even been under the same roof as Royalty. But all this is by the way, Jasper. Everything that glitters is not gold, and you must take all you see about you at its face value. I make a certain amount of money by my pen, but not nearly enough to keep myself in circumstances like these. I have been unlucky lately, too, and my available war-chest at present contains less than a thousand pounds. Still, I have a great scheme on hand, and in that scheme I shall require your assistance.
If the scheme is a success there are five hundred pounds for you. I do not flatter you by supposing that you are over-scrupulous, being quite certain—”
“Oh, don’t let’s worry about my scruples,” Cleave said impatiently. “I am a desperate man, ready for anything. When your servant found me to-night I was starving. I am entirely in your hands and will do anything you please. What would I not do for five hundred pounds? But, tell me, how did your man find me to-night?”
“Well, that is simplicity itself. Quite by accident I learnt that you were coming home; I also found out what boat you were travelling by. My discreet and faithful Robert would have met you at the Docks only he was unfortunate enough to get his cab stopped in a block and thus lose sight of you. But Robert is a veritable sleuth-hound, and has his own way of doing things—but what does it matter? You are here and you are ready to fall in with my wishes.”
“You are a wonderful woman,” Cleave said with deep admiration. “I always said that you were born for great things, but how did you manage about this wardrobe of mine? Positively, I might be sitting here in my own garments.”
“So you are,” the woman laughed. “I suppose you have been away too long to have noticed that your dress-suit is not quite abreast of present fashion. Don’t you remember when you left England suddenly, everything behind you was abandoned? You were very extravagant in clothes in those days, my dear Jasper, and you left behind enough for a score of men. To make a long story short, when I heard you were coming home, I went down to your old rooms and found that your landlord had stowed your boxes and cases away in the faint hope that you might some day return and recover them. Twenty pounds did the rest, and there you are. Now is there any other information that I can give you?”
Cleave repeated his remark that his companion was a wonderful woman. He had satisfied his hunger now; he was soothing his nerves with those exquisite cigarettes; a full glass of wine stood by his elbow. On the whole, the world was not so bad a place as he had thought. It was a wonderful change, too, for a man who an hour before had been a starving outcast and wanderer.
Cleave’s wits were sharpened now; he noticed a brilliant red spot burning on the cheeks of his companion. He leant towards her confidently and touched her arm. She looked up with a significant smile upon her lips.
I know what you are thinking,” she said.
You are wondering why it is I do not come to the point. I want you to cast back your mind some four or five years. In those days, you will remember, I was little more than a child living in the village where you were born. In fact, where we were both born. I little thought in those days that I should come to be on such terms of intimate friendship with the most important man in the parish.”
“Never mind that,” Cleave said uneasily.
“The old home has passed into the possession of strangers and I am never likely to see it again. I shall be obliged if you will touch that topic as lightly as possible.”
“My dear Jasper, it is absolutely necessary to mention the past. I want you to recall the time when you fondly imagined yourself cut out for the role of a county gentleman. You were going to marry and settle down, when your father died. I daresay you would have done so, only unfortunately you fell into bad company and your weak disposition answered for the rest. You forgot the little girl to whom you had given your heart, and, no doubt, in time she forgot you. But she was only a child at the time, and youth speedily recovers from that kind of thing. Need I remind you of the fact that I am speaking of your old sweetheart, Lena Grey?”
Cleave smiled lightly, as one who recollects tolerantly the days of early folly.
“I have not thought of her for years,” he said. “She was but a child then, certainly not more than seventeen, though I believe she had the bad taste to be very fond of me. She also had an exceedingly narrow escape. But that is all by the way. It is a most extraordinary thing, Nellie, that you should have mentioned Lena’s name. I passed her to-night; nearly ran into her, in fact. I did collide with her companion, whom I recognised as Philip Hardy. What a conceited prig he used to be! I never used to see him without wanting to kick him. I hated that fellow.”
A peculiar smile passed over the listener’s face and her cheeks flushed slightly, but Cleave noticed nothing of this.
“Philip Hardy is by way of being a great man now,” she said. “He is one of the spoilt children of fortune. It is certain that he has lately inherited a huge fortune. To be perfectly candid with you, my dear Jasper, I am exceedingly fond of Philip Hardy. Up to a short time ago, I felt pretty well certain that I was going to be asked to share his distinguished career. Not that I care much for the career as long as I share the fortune. By a piece of ill-luck Lena Grey stepped in, and I understand their engagement will be announced to-morrow. This brings me to the point. You know my disposition, Jasper; you know how I can smile and smile when my heart is full of fury. I could kill that little pink-and-white doll; I could take her throat in my hands and squeeze the life out of her without remorse. It matters nothing that she has come between me and my ambition unwittingly; she is there, and she will have to be removed by fair means or foul. It maddens me when I think of it. Here I had the ball at my feet, and was on the verge of a marriage with a rich man, who can have a title whenever he wants it. In two years I should have been one of the recognised queens of Society. Nothing could have stopped me. Nothing could have barred my progress. If that little white cat had only kept out of the way for another two days my ambition would have been crowned. She must go, Jasper; she must be wiped out of existence. And you are the very man to help me to do it. Do you understand?”
The speaker had risen to her feet now and was pacing up and down the room, a picture of beautiful subdued fury. Cleave could see her eyes flashing like points of flame; he saw how the slim hands were clenched together; there was a deep intentness, too, in the tone of the woman’s voice which told of her iron determination. She paused in her restless stride presently and laid a shaking hand on Cleave’s shoulder. The strength and tenacity of the clutch fairly astonished him.
“I don’t want murder,” she hissed; “that kind of thing is so cheap—and dangerous. I have a far better scheme than that. If you will only listen to me, the part you have to play is no difficult one; you only want audacity and ability to lie with a perfectly solemn countenance. Now, tell me, in those days when you were going to play the part of the model squire with the little doll by your side, did no letters pass between you?”
“I have no doubt they did,” Cleave confessed. “Though I have not the remotest idea where they are. Probably I destroyed them.”
“Indeed, you didn’t,” the woman laughed. “I found them in one of your boxes, and they