Chapter XIX
Sport
"L'amour du mieux t'aura interdit le bien."
"Do I look as if I had come out of Paris in a balloon?" said JohnTurner, in answer to my suggestion that he had made use of a method ofescape at that time popular. "No, I left by the Creteil gate, withoutdrum or trumpet, or anything more romantic than a _laissez-passer_signed by Favre. There will be the devil to pay in Paris beforeanother week has passed, and I am not going to disburse."
"In what way will he want paying?" I asked.
"Well," answered John Turner, dragging at the knees of his trousers,which garments invariably incommoded his stout legs, "Well, theGovernment of National Defence is beginning to show that it has beenill-named. Before long they will be replaced by a Government ofNational Ruin. The ass in the streets is wanting to bray in the Hotelde Ville, and will get there before he has finished."
"You are well out of it," said I, "and do not seem to have suffered bythe siege."
"Next to being a soldier it is good to be a banker in time of war,"said Turner, pulling down his waistcoat, which, indeed, had been in noway affected by the privations currently reported to be the lot of thebesieged Parisians.
"What about Miste?" he added, abruptly.
"I have seen his back again, I do not believe the man has a face."
And I told my astute friend of my failure to catch Charles Miste atthe Bank of England.
"Truth is," commented the banker, "that Monsieur Miste is anuncommonly smart rogue. You must be careful--when he does show you hisface, have a care. And if you take my advice you will leave thislittle business to the men who know what they are about. It is notevery one who knows the way to tackle a fellow carrying a loadedrevolver. By the way, do you carry such a thing yourself?"
"Never had one in my life."
"Then buy one," said Turner. "I always wear one--in a pocket at theback, where neither I nor any one else can get at it. Sorry you couldnot come to luncheon," he continued. "I wanted to have a long talkwith you."
He settled himself in the large arm-chair, which he completely filled.I like a man to be bulky in his advancing years.
"WAITER, TAKE THIS GENTLEMAN'S ORDER. YOU YOUNG FELLOWSCANNOT SMOKE WITHOUT DRINKING, NOWADAYS--HORRID BAD HABIT. WAITER,BRING ME THE SAME."]
"Take that chair," he said, "and this cigar. I suppose you wantsomething to drink. Waiter, take this gentleman's order. You youngfellows cannot smoke without drinking, nowadays--horrid bad habit.Waiter, bring me the same."
When we were alone, John Turner sat smoking and looking at me withbeady, reflective eyes.
"You know, Dick," he said at length, "I have got you down in my will."
"Thanks--but you will last my time."
"Then it is no good, you think?" he inquired, with a chuckle.
"Not much."
"You want it now?" he suggested.
"No."
"Your father's son," commented my father's friend. "Stubborn and rude.A true Howard of Hopton. I have got you down in my will, however, andI'm going to interfere in your affairs. That is why I sent for you."
I smoked and waited.
"I take it," he went on in his short and breathless way, "that thingsare at a standstill somewhat in this position. If you marry IsabellaGayerson, you will have with her money, which is a tidy fortune, fourthousand a year. If you don't have the young woman, you can live atHopton, but without a sou to your name. You want to marryMademoiselle, who thinks you are too old and too big a scoundrel.That is Mademoiselle's business. Giraud junior is also in love withMademoiselle Lucille, who would doubtless marry him if he had thewherewithal. In the mean time she is coy--awaiting the result of yoursearch. You are seeking Giraud's money, so that he may marryMademoiselle of the bright eyes--you understand that, I suppose?"
"Thoroughly."
"That is all right. It is best to have these affairs clearly stated.Now, why the devil do you not ask Isabella to marry you--"
"To begin with, she would not have me," I interrupted.
"Nice girl, capable of a deep and passionate affection--I know thesequiet women--two thousand five hundred a year."
"She wouldn't have me."
"Then ask her, and when she has refused you, fight the validity ofyour father's will."
"But she might not refuse me," said I. "She hates me, though! I knowthat. There is no one on earth with such a keen scent for my faults."
"Ye-es," said Turner slowly. "Well?"
"She might think it her duty to accept me on account of the will."
"Have you ever known a woman weigh duty against the inclination of herown heart?"
"I know little about women," replied I, "and doubt whether you knowmore."
"That is as may be. And you wouldn't marry Isabella for two thousand ayear?"
"Not for twenty thousand," replied I, half in my wineglass.
"Virtuous young man! Why?"
I looked at Turner and laughed.
"A slip of a French girl," he muttered contemptuously. "No biggerround than the calf of my leg."
And I suppose he only spoke the truth.
He continued thus to give me much good advice, to which, no doubt, hadI been prudent, I should have listened with entire faith. But myfriend, like other worldly wiseacres, had many theories which hehimself failed to put into practice. And as he spoke there was atwinkle in his eye, and a tone of scepticism in his voice, as if heknew that he was but whistling to the wind.
Then John Turner fell to abusing Miste and Giraud and the late poorVicomte as a parcel of knaves and fools.
"Here am I," he cried, "with a bundle of my signatures being hawkedabout the world by a thief, and cannot stop one of them. Every oneknows that my paper is good; the drafts will be negotiated frompillar to post like a Bank of England note, and the account will notbe closed for years."
It was a vexatious matter for so distinguished a banker to be mixedin, and I could give him but little comfort. While I was still withhim, however, a letter was brought to me which enlightened ussomewhat. This communication was from my agent Sander, and bore theBrussels postmark.
"This Miste," he wrote, "is no ordinary scoundrel, but one who willwant most careful treatment, or we shall lose the whole amount. I havenow arrived at the conclusion that he has two accomplices, and one ofthese in London; for I am undoubtedly watched, and my movements areprobably reported to Miste. Yourself and Monsieur Giraud are doubtlessunder surveillance also. I am always on Miste's heels, but never catchhim up. It seems quite clear, from the inconsequence of his movements,that he is endeavouring to meet an accomplice, but that my presence soclose upon his heels repeatedly scares them apart. He receives lettersand telegrams at the Poste Restante, under the name of Marcel. Soclose was I upon his track, that at Bruges I caused him to break hisappointment by a few hours only. He sent off a telegram, and madehimself scarce only two hours before my arrival. This is a largeaffair, and we must have great patience. In the mean time, I think itprobable that Miste will not endeavour to cash any more drafts. Heonly wants sufficient for current expenses, and will probablyendeavour to negotiate the whole amount to some small foreigngovernment in guise of a loan."
"That is what he will do," affirmed John Turner. "Persia or China of aneedy South American state."
It pleased me at times to think that I could guess Lucille's thoughts,and indeed she made it plain at this time that she cherished somegrudge against me. It was, I suppose, only natural that she shouldsuspect me of lukewarmness in a search which, if successful, wouldinevitably militate to my own discomfiture. Alphonse Giraud wasdoubtless awaiting, with a half-concealed impatience, the moment whenhe might honourably press his suit. Thus, Charles Miste held us all inthe hollow of his hand, and the news I had received was as importantto others as to myself.
I therefore hurried to Hyde Park Street, and had the good fortune tofind all the party within. I made known the contents of Sander'sletter, adding thereto, for the benefit of the ladies, John Turner'scomments and m
y own suspicions.
"We shall catch him yet!" cried Alphonse, forgetting in the excitementof the moment the dignified reserve which had of late stood betweenus. "Bravo, Howard! we shall catch him yet."
He wrung my hand effusively, and then, remembering himself, glanced atIsabella, as I thought, and lapsed into attentive and suspicioussilence.
Having made my report I withdrew, and at the corner of the street wasnearly run over by a private hansom cab, at that time a fashionablevehicle among men about town. I caught a glimpse of a courteous glovedhand, and Mr. Devar's face wreathed in the pleasantest of smiles.
"You omitted to tell me at what hour you dine," was the remark withwhich Mr. Devar made his entrance. He refused to accept a chair, andtook his stand on the hearth-rug without monopolising the fire, andwith perfect ease and a word for every one.
"As I drove here I passed your friend Mr. Howard," he said presently,and Isabella said "Ah!"
"Yes, and he looked somewhat absorbed."
Mr. Devar waited, and after a pause, kindly continued to interesthimself in so unworthy a subject.
"Did you not tell me," he remarked, "that Mr. Howard is engaged onsome--er--quixotic enterprise--the search for a fortune he has lost?"
"The fortune is Monsieur Giraud's," said the lady of the house.
Devar turned to Alphonse with a bow appropriately French.
"Then I congratulate Monsieur on his--possibilities."
His manner of speech was suggestive of a desire to conceal a glibnesswhich is usually accounted a fault.
"And I hope that Mr. Howard's obvious absorption was not dueto--discouragement."
"On the contrary," answered Isabella, "Mr. Howard has just given us amost hopeful report."
"Has he caught the thief?"
"No; but his agent, a Mr. Sander, writes from Brussels that he hastraced the thief to the Netherlands, and there seems to be someprobability that he will be taken."
"My experience of thieves," said Mr. Devar airily, "has been small.But I imagine they are hard to take when they once get away. Mr.Howard is, I fear, wasting his time."
Isabella answered nothing to this, though her pinched lips seemed toindicate a doubt whether such a waste was in reality going forward.
"Our neighbour's enterprise usually appears to be a waste of time,does it not?" he said, with the large tolerance of a man owning tomany failings.
Alphonse shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands with agesture of helplessness, further accentuated by the bandage on hiswrist.
"I do not so much want to catch the thief as to possess myself of themoney," he said.
"You are charitable, Monsieur Giraud."
"No--I am poor."
Devar laughed in the pleasantest manner imaginable.
"And of course," he said, indicating the Frenchman's maimed hand,which was usually in evidence, "you are unable to undertake the searchyourself?"
"As yet."
"Then you intend ultimately to join in the chase--you are a greatsportsman, I hear?"
The graceful compliment was not lost upon Alphonse, who beamed uponhis interlocutor.
"In a small way--in a small way," he answered. "Yes, when they strikea really good scent I shall follow, wounds or no wounds."
At this Mr. Devar expressed some concern, and made himselfadditionally agreeable. He refused still to be seated, saying that hehad but come to ascertain the dinner hour on the following Thursday.Nevertheless, he prolonged his stay and made himself vastlyfascinating.