A Fatal Dose. Fred M. White
pounds for you if you are successful.”
“Go on,” Cleave said hoarsely. “For a sum like that I would not stop at murder.”
VII. — PANGS OF CONSCIENCE
IF outward appearances counted for anything, Eleanor Marsh had every reason to be satisfied with her present surroundings. From the long, luxurious chair in which she was reclining, she could have looked, had it been daylight, over one of the fairest expanses of country in the south of England. The view from Court Royal extended away south from Reigate almost to the Channel. Indeed, out of all the many estates owned by the Duke of Daventry, Court Royal was easily the favourite with his beautiful Duchess.
A distinguished house-party had gathered in the historical mansion, ostensibly to enjoy a series of week-end festivities, which embraced a night fête in the gardens, but really the exclusive function was devised on behalf of Philip Hardy. Like most modem Society leaders, the Duchess took the keenest interest in rich young men. Philip Hardy was a great favourite of hers, and she had determined to push him by every means in her power.
To this aristocratic gathering Eleanor Marsh had contrived to be invited. She had done more than that, for she had also managed to obtain a card for Jasper Cleave, whom she had skilfully planted on some friends of hers living in the immediate neighbourhood.
The woman’s plans were all completely laid, and she had a willing and obliging tool in the man by her side. Yet, at the same time, there was a frown on Cleave’s face and a shrinking look in his eyes, as if he dreaded the task which lay before him.
The brilliant dinner party had been over for some little time, and there was a lull before the arrival of the numerous guests who were bidden to the subsequent reception. As the saffron light of evening faded to a dim, mystic purple, points of flame peeped out here and there in the grounds, till presently the gardens and lawns were one blaze of electric light. From a distant spot came the sound of a band softly playing.
“Well, I suppose you are satisfied now?” Eleanor Marsh said, as she turned to her companion. “Rather a different lot yours now compared with a month ago.”
Cleave shrugged his shoulders with assumed indifference. Certainly he looked very different to the tattered outcast who had been hanging about Courtville Square only the other day. Even an astute observer would have failed to detect any difference between Cleave and the ordinary well-groomed Society man. His tone was anything but grateful as he replied.
“Oh, that’s right enough,” he said. “But what does it lead to? It’s true that I have to thank you for a good deal, but I am very little the better off; of course, I have a wardrobe and a roof over my head; but frankly, my dear Nell, living on borrowed fivers of yours is not altogether to my taste. Besides my position here is a little bit invidious. It was all very well till Hardy and Lena Grey arrived this afternoon, but ever since then I have been dodging about keeping out of their way.”
“And why should you keep out of their way?” Eleanor asked scornfully. “What is there to be afraid of?”
“You don’t know Hardy as well as you profess to,” replied Cleave. “And you quite forget the fact that I knew him years ago. He is acquainted with my past, except possibly the little episode between myself and Lena Grey. Your would-be lover is a pretty hard man, like most strictly virtuous people, and if he recognised me here this evening, I should have to beat an ignominious retreat. If I refused to do so, he would most assuredly acquaint the Duchess with some of my purple patches, and then you would have to work this little thing on your own account. Besides, you have not yet told me what you want me to do.”
Eleanor Marsh paused for a moment before she replied; from her seat on the wide verandah she could command a view of a noble corridor, terminating in flights of marble steps and filled with palms and flowers on either side. It was very much like looking from the darkness of a theatre on to a brilliantly lighted stage, and there on the stage was a little tableau that caused Eleanor to clench her teeth and clutch the arm of her companion.
“Look there!” she whispered. “Look on that half-landing! Now tell me, my friend, what do you see?”
There was no reason for Cleave to explain, for the picture lay plain enough before both of them. Two figures stood there in earnest conversation. Hardy, tall and vigorous, looking a successful hero to the life, with Lena Grey by his side, her face upturned lovingly to his.
“What do you think of that for a picture of domestic bliss?” Eleanor sneered. “He has forgotten everything but her for the moment. I tell you it maddens me to see a man like that throwing himself away upon a doll. Oh, I daresay he cares for her, I have no doubt she worships him; but she is no wife for a man like Philip Hardy. And to think that if she had only kept out of the way a little longer I should have taken her place! I would have made him, I would have pushed him to the very top. There is no position in the country that Philip Hardy could not have assumed with me by his side.”
“There are other men quite as rich,” Cleave said cynically.
“Yes, but you see I want this particular man and I am going to have him. I will not disguise from you that if he were poor I should not have given him a second thought. Oh, I am quite aware of what I am opening up for myself, but we need not discuss that. You are my ally, you have promised me to do anything I desire. At the first opportunity to-night, yOu are going to make yourself known to Lena Grey. What happens after that will depend upon circumstances, but the general programme I have already outlined to you.”
It was some little time before Cleave replied. He seemed moody and restless, his eyes still dwelling on the little group on the stairs with a look of something like regret.
“It’s a strange thing,” he muttered. “Until a day or two ago I felt ready for anything, and now that I have come into the world again the conscience that I so often sneered at seems to have taken possession of me. Upon my word, Nell, I can’t do it. She is a dear little girl; she always was, and now to step in like this and wreck the happiness of her life—”
“All this is madness,” Eleanor whispered passionately. “You can go if you like. Go and leave the whole thing to me. I daresay I shall be able to manage by myself, but you will leave me without a penny, leave me with nothing but the clothes you stand up in. On the other hand, you can live on the fat of the land for the present. In a few days you will have five hundred pounds to call your own. If you are going to choose, all I ask you to do is to choose quickly. There is no time to waste.”
Cleave averted his eyes from the group on the stairs. He stifled the voice of conscience. He professed himself to be entirely at the disposal of his companion.
“No use kicking against the pricks,” he said moodily. “Now tell me what you want me to do in the matter of that woman, Fiona Dear. You have not been too candid with me, and it is impossible for me to go on unless I know something more of your project. Who is Fiona Dear? What is she doing here?”
“Oh, I had quite forgotten for the moment that you had been out of the world so long. Fiona Dear is the last craze in the way of a thought-reader. I don’t know whether she is any worse or better than the majority of her tribe, but she is riding on the crest of the wave for the moment and everybody has gone mad about her. She is coming here to-night, and one of the small summer-houses in the garden has been placed at her disposal. No one has ever seen this woman; it is one of her fads to be masked; therefore she will arrive quietly, the train stopping for a moment at the Duke’s private station on the other side of the lake. You must meet this woman and engage her in conversation for a moment. It matters but little what you say so long as you detain her for just five minutes. If nothing happens in those five minutes you can come back to the house and mingle with the other guests quite naturally. Now, you will at once take the first opportunity of making your identity known to Miss Grey.”
“Very well,” Cleave said sullenly. “It shall be just as you say. And now, as the carriages begin to arrive,