CHAPTER V
A WOMAN SCORNED
Mr Burton might have been awaiting Mr Holland. He did not seem at allsurprised to see him there, even at that hour of the night, or,rather, morning, for midnight had long since chimed.
'How do, dear boy? So you haven't been letting the grass grow underyour feet. That's where you beat me; you are so energetic.'
And Mr Burton smiled. That smile was his most prominent feature. Itwas always there. Not that it necessarily denoted mirth. Not at all.It might mean anything, or nothing. When he was in a rage he smiled,and when he was in the best of tempers; when he wished to beagreeable, and when he wished to be nasty--and he could be nasty. Hewas not a bad-looking man, in his way, though there was somethingabout him a little suggesting the worst side of the Semite, whichrather detracted from the general effect. It was difficult to sayexactly what it was. Whether it was that his nostrils were undulythick, or that so much of his mouth as his heavy moustache suffered tobe visible was animal, or that his eyes, which were fine of theirkind, had an odd trick of intently observing you when you were notlooking at him, and of wandering away into space when you were, itwould have needed an acute physiognomist to determine, and then thatphysiognomist might have been in error. Certainly there was somethingabout Mr Horace Burton which nearly always caused an experienced manof the world, on first making his acquaintance, to glance at him afirst, a second, and again a third time, and then start thinking.Perhaps it was that, in spite of his moustache, his chronic smiledisplayed his teeth, which were not nice ones; or because of his soft,purring voice, which, when he became excited, had a squeak in it; orbecause of his feline trick of touching a person, with whom he mightbe conversing, with his fingertips, and stroking him, when he got nearenough to do it.
Mr Holland regarded his cousin in silence. The encounter did notappear to astonish him, nor to add to his pleasure either. Mr Burtoncontinued.
'Well--have you got it?'
'Have I got what?'
'Ah--you've answered. You haven't. I see. Thanks. It was rather sharpwork to raid the girl at this hour of the night, don't you think? Butyou always were so keen. Was she nice to you? She used to be, didn'tshe? You've been a lucky chap. I never could make out what women sawin you to like. A lot of them have seen something. There's Miss Broad,for instance--'
'Don't mention that lady's name.'
'Not mention her name? My dear chap!' Mr Burton placed the finger-tipsof his right hand against Mr Holland's chest, to have them brushedaside as if they were some noxious insect. He went on unmoved. 'She'sto be my cousin; so I'm told. Unless you've jerked her up. I hear herfather kicked you out of the house; perhaps you anticipate morekicking; in a case like that you can't kick back again. So perhapsyou're wise to chuck the girl. I tell you what, dear boy.' Thefinger-tips returned, again to be displaced. 'Marry the Bewicke girl.Get a special license to marry the girl out of hand. Then you'll getthe ruby and the money too. It's the only way you will. Hearken to thewords of a wise man.'
'Mr Burton, although I am so unfortunate as to be a relative of yours,I have on a previous occasion been compelled to inform you that Idecline to hold communication with, or afford you recognition of anysort or kind. I repeat that intimation now. With my reasons you arewell acquainted; their name is Legion. Have the goodness, therefore,to let me pass.'
'But, my dear Guy, how about our uncle's money?'
'What about my uncle's money?'
'Our uncle's; forgive the plural, Guy. Hadn't we better come to somefriendly arrangement while there still is time. You'll never get theruby out of the Bewicke woman; I know her; she's a daughter of thehorse-leech; she'll see you damned first. Relinquish the chase atonce--you'll have to in a few hours, anyhow--and throw yourself on mymagnanimity. There's a suggestion, Guy! Give it up; withdraw at oncefrom what you know is a lost game, and I'll present you with athousand pounds. Push the thing through to the bitter end, and you'llget nothing.'
'A thousand?--out of a quarter of a million?'
'It would be a gift, Guy--a free gift. It isn't every man who'dpresent a cousin who'd used him as you've used me with a free gift ofa thousand pounds.'
'Mr Burton, if the money is to be yours, I'll have none of it. I'm notdisposed to be beholden to your charity, nor to you in any way, as youare aware. If it is to be mine, you'll have none of it; I know yourtastes, and will not pander to their gratification. Let me pass.'
'See how different we are. If the money is to be mine--and it willbe; it's as good as mine already--I'll give you a few coppers everytime we meet; I'll even send you some occasionally through the post.Good-night! My love to both the ladies!'
Mr Burton hailed a passing hansom and was driven off. Mr Hollandcontinued his promenade, but had not gone far before he was accostedfrom behind.
'Mr Holland! Mr Holland!' exclaimed a female voice, as if the speakerwere in distress for want of breath.
'Who's that?' He turned to see. A feminine figure was hasteningtowards him. 'This promises to be a night of adventure. Has thatlittle hussy become humanised and changed her mind?'
The caller approached, holding her hand to her side.
'I wish to speak to you. You know me?'
They stood close to a lamp. Mr Holland looked her up and down.
'I seem to have seen you before. You are the person who rushed intothe house as I came out.'
'That is it; I rushed--from him!'
She threw out her hand with a dramatic gesture, pointing down thestreet.
'From whom?'
'From your cousin--from Mr Horace Burton. Oh, he is a nice fellow! IfI had stayed with him much longer I should have killed him; so to savemyself from killing him I rushed away.'
'My cousin's concerns are not mine. I cannot assume responsibility foranything he may do or have done. You are mistaken if you suppose Ican.'
'I am not mistaken; I know all that. You men are all the same; youhang together. If your own brother drives a woman into the gutter, yousay it is no affair of yours; you pass on, you leave her there. Beforeyou open your mouth I know you cannot be responsible for what he hasdone. But you can make me to be revenged on him.'
'Even that I cannot do.'
'You can! I say you can!'
The woman spoke, not loudly, but with such passion and intensity ofmeaning that Mr Holland was conscious of a curious sensation as heheard her. She was tall and thin, about thirty, not bad looking, butprecisely the type of woman the ordinary rake, seeking for a victim,would, if he had his senses about him, have left severely alone. Shewas distinctly not a person to be trifled with. Apparently aforeigner, because, although she spoke fluent English, there was nowand then a slight accent and a curious idiom which betrayed her.Written large all over her was what, to a practised eye, wasunmistakable evidence that she was of the number of those who take allthings seriously, even rakes. One could easily believe that to her apromise was a promise, though it came from the mouth of a man; andsince there are men who regard promises made to women as a sort ofpersiflage, one would have thought that gentlemen who take thatstandpoint would carefully avoid an individual who eyed matters of thekind from such an inconveniently different point of view. Mr HoraceBurton, however, was in some respects an unusual specimen even of hisclass. Possibly the consciousness that he ran the risk of burning hisown fingers by playing tricks with this particular fire was the lurewhich drew him on.
Anyhow, Mr Holland told himself that this time his cousin had caught aTartar, and became more and more convinced of it as the woman went on.
'My name is Louise Casata; I am Corsican, as he will find, yourcousin. I am the companion of Miss May Bewicke.' Mr Holland pricked uphis ears at this, which the woman, with her keen instinct, perceived.'Now do you not remember me? I was with her when you used to make loveto her. I used to think you did it very well. But in those days youwere fond of her. Now it is of another woman you are fond. Althoughyou may have forgotten, do not believe she has.'
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This time Mr Holland winced.
'I think that now I do remember you. You used to write letters for herand that kind of thing.'
'All sorts of kinds of things. I do everything she tells me to; I am aJack-of-all-trades. I would act for her one day; I can act, but I amtoo large a size. But that does not matter; nor does it matter whatyour cousin has done to me, though you can guess. But you cannot guesshow he has lied and juggled.'
'I think I can.'
'Then you must know him very well. In which case you have my sympathy.What does matter is what you are going to do to him.'
'I am going to do nothing to him.'
'We will see; you will see; they all will see. Be still! Let me speak.He has told me about your uncle's will--about the ruby which MissBewicke has. How, if you get it from her, you are to have all themoney; how, if you don't, he is to have it all. I know! Very well; youwill get the ruby. That's what you will do to him. He will be ruined,body and soul; though, for his soul, that was lost long ago. If hewishes to keep his body out of prison he will have to be quick out ofEngland. He will not find it easy. There are those who are watchingfor him too well.'
'Are you sure of what you say?'
'Am I sure! Do I not know? It is only because they think he will gethis uncle's money that he has not been in prison before. I tell youthere is a convict's uniform waiting for him in more than one place.You will fit it on his back. I shall be revenged. I will go and seehim when he is in gaol. Every three months he will be allowed toreceive a visit. I will be his visitor. To see me will give himpleasure. I shall have such nice things to say. Oh, yes!'
Mr Holland shivered. There was that about this woman which filled himwith a sense of vague discomfort.
'I don't like your way of putting things at all!'
'What does it matter what you like? To get the ruby--that is youraffair.'
'How do you suggest that I am, as you phrase it, "to get the ruby"?'
'You will have to take it.'
'Take it?'
'She will never give it to you--never. She hates you. She also hasbeen looking for revenge. Now she has her chance. You behaved badly toher. Now she will behave badly to you.'
'I deny that I behaved badly to her. If you were acquainted with allthe facts you would not judge me with such hard judgment.'
'She thinks that you behaved badly to her, and, for a woman, that isenough.'
'Then am I to take it that you only think that Horace Burton hasbehaved badly to you?'
The woman favoured him with a look which made him realise more clearlythan anything which had gone before what a Tartar his cousin hadencountered. She was silent for a moment or two. When she did speak,she spoke quietly; but it was a quietude in which there was a qualitywhich was not peace.
'You think to get me in a rage. I am not such a fool. When I am inearnest I am not so easily angered. It is no affair of yours if it isonly that I think he has treated me badly. It is your affair to getthe ruby; and I tell you that to get it you must take it.'
'I am so dull as not to understand what you mean when you say that Imust take it.'
'I will make it clear. You have four days--four only. Good! At oneo'clock to-morrow night you will come to Miss Bewicke's rooms. Shewill be out. It is Saturday. She goes by the midnight train toBrighton until Monday. All will be dark. The front door you will findopen. You will have but to push it to enter. You will go to herbedroom; it is in front of you, the second door on the right as you goin. That door, also, will be open. The dressing-table is before thewindow on the left. It has many little drawers. In them are a greatnumber of her jewels. In the bottom little drawer on the right-handside facing the glass there is one thing only; it is your uncle's rubysignet ring. I know. I have seen it very often. She is not proud ofthe way in which she got it; she calls it "old Burton's scalp." It isto her a trophy which she won in battle, so she keeps it all by itselfin that little bottom drawer. You have but to put your hand in; it isyours. You go away; you close the doors behind you; for you the gameis won.'
Mr Holland stared. The matter-of-fact air with which the proposal wasmade almost took his breath away.
'You are suggesting that I should commit burglary.'
She made a contemptuous movement with her head and hands.
'It is but a word; what does it matter--a word? It is a burglary ofwhich you will hear nothing more. I promise you that Miss Bewicke willdo nothing.'
'And the morality of the proceeding, what of that?'
'Morality!' She laughed. 'The morality! Do not talk to me suchnonsense! Bah! As if anyone cared for morality except for the sake ofa----. But I shall not contend with you; you but amuse yourself. Youunderstand what I have said?'
'Perfectly. Too well.'
'Very good. Then I shall see you to-morrow night at one o'clock.'
'You will do nothing of the kind.'
'No, I shall not see you, because it will be dark; but you will bethere. You will find the doors open, and everything as I have said. Itis already late; I must go. Good-bye.'
She went, fluttering from him up the street at a gait which was halfwalk, half run. He stood looking after her, a little taken aback bythe abruptness of her departure.
'That woman appears to have formed a high opinion of my character. Sheflatters me.'