CHAPTER XXXIV
SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART
"Well, you and your friend Felix have placed me in a very pleasantposition, haven't you?" asked Lady Heyburn of Flockart, who had justentered the green-and-white morning-room at Park Street. "I hope nowthat you're satisfied with your blunder!"
The man addressed, in a well-cut suit of grey, a fancy vest, andpatent-leather boots, still carrying his hat and stick in his hand,turned to her in surprise.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "I arrived from Paris at five thismorning, and I've brought you good news."
"Nonsense!" cried the woman, starting from her chair in anger. "Youcan't deceive me any longer."
"Krail has discovered the whole game. The syndicate held a meeting atthe office in Paris. He and I watched the arrivals. We now know who theyare, and exactly what they are doing. By Jove! we never dreamed thatyour husband, blind though he is, is head of such a smart andinfluential group. Why, they're the first in Europe."
"What does that matter? Krail wants money, so do we; but even with allyour wonderful schemes we get none!"
"Wait, my dear Winnie, remain patient, and we shall obtain plenty."
It was indeed strange for a woman within that smart town-house, and withher electric brougham at the door, to complain of poverty. The house hadbeen a centre of political activity in the days before Sir Henry metwith that terrible affliction. The room in which the pair stood had beenthe scene of many a private and momentous conference, and in the bigdrawing-room upstairs many a Cabinet Minister had bent over the hand ofthe fair Lady Heyburn.
Into the newly decorated room, with its original Adams ceiling, itsdead-white panelling and antique overmantel, shone the morning sun, weakand yellow as it always is in London in the spring-time.
Lady Heyburn, dressed in a smart walking-gown of grey, pushed her fluffyfair hair from her brow, while upon her face was an expression whichtold of combined fear and anger.
Her visitor was surprised. After that watchful afternoon in theBoulevard des Capucines, he had sat in a corner of the Cafe Terminuslistening to Krail, who rubbed his hands with delight and declared thathe now held the most powerful group in Europe in the hollow of his hand.
For the past six years or so gigantic _coups_ had been secured by thatunassuming and apparently third-rate financial house of Lenard etMorellet. From a struggling firm they had within a year grown into onewhose wealth seemed inexhaustible, and whose balances at the CreditLyonnais, the Societe Generale, and the Comptoir d'Escompte werepossibly the largest of any of the customers of those greatcorporations. The financial world of Europe had wondered. It was amystery who was behind Lenard et Morellet, the pair of steady-going,highly respectable business men who lived in unostentatious comfort, theformer at Enghien, just outside Paris, and the latter out in the countryat Melum. The mystery was so well and so carefully preserved that noteven the bankers themselves could obtain knowledge of the truth.
Krail had, however, after nearly two years of clever watching andingenious subterfuge, succeeded, by placing the group in a "hole" incalling them together. That they met, and often, was undoubted. Butwhere they met, and how, was still a complete mystery.
As Flockart had sat that previous afternoon listening to Krail'sunscrupulous and self-confident proposals, he had remained in silentwonder at the man's audacious attitude. Nothing deterred him, nothingdaunted him.
Flockart had returned that night from Paris, gone to his chambers inHalf-Moon Street, breakfasted, dressed, and had now called upon herladyship in order to impart to her the good news. Yet, instead ofwelcoming him, she only treated him with resentment and scorn. He knewthe quick flash of those eyes, he had seen it before on other occasions.This was not the first time they had quarrelled, yet he, keen-witted andcunning, had always held her powerless to elude him, had alwayscompelled her to give him the sums he so constantly demanded. Thatmorning, however, she was distinctly resentful, distinctly defiant.
For an instant he turned from her, biting his lip in annoyance. Whenfacing her again, he smiled, asking, "Tell me, Winnie, what does allthis mean?"
"Mean!" echoed the Baronet's wife. "Mean! How can you ask me thatquestion? Look at me--a ruined woman! And you----"
"Speak out!" he cried. "What has happened?"
"You surely know what has happened. You have treated me like the cur youare--and that is speaking plainly. You've sacrificed me in order to saveyourself."
"From what?"
"From exposure. To me, ruin is not a matter of days, but of hours."
"You're speaking in enigmas. I don't understand you," he criedimpatiently. "Krail and I have at last been successful. We know now thetrue source of your husband's huge income, and in order to preventexposure he must pay--and pay us well too."
"Yes," she laughed hysterically. "You tell me all this after you'veblundered."
"Blundered! How?" he asked, surprised at her demeanour.
"What's the use of beating about the bush?" asked her ladyship. "Thegirl is back at Glencardine. She knows everything, thanks to yourfoolish self-confidence."
"Back at Glencardine!" gasped Flockart. "But she dare not speak. Byheaven! if she does--then--then--"
"And what, pray, can you do?" inquired the woman harshly. "It is I whohave to suffer, I who am crushed, humiliated, ruined, while you and yourprecious friend shield yourselves behind your cloaks of honesty. You areSir Henry's friend. He believes you as such--you!" And she laughed thehollow laugh of a woman who was staring death in the face. She washaggard and drawn, and her hands trembled with nervousness which shestrove in vain to repress. Lady Heyburn was desperate.
"He still believes in me, eh?" asked the man, thinking deeply, for hisclever brain was already active to devise some means of escape from whatappeared to be a distinctly awkward dilemma. He had never calculated thechances of Gabrielle's return to her father's side. He had believed thatimpossible.
"I understand that my husband will hear no word against you," repliedthe tall, fair-haired woman. "But when I speak he will listen, dependupon it."
"You dare!" he cried, turning upon her in threatening attitude. "Youdare utter a single word against me, and, by Heaven! I'll tell what Iknow. The country shall ring with a scandal--the shame of your attitudetowards the girl, and a crime for which you will be arraigned, with me,before an assize-court. Remember!"
The woman shrank from him. Her face had blanched. She saw that he wasequally as determined as she was desperate. James Flockart always kepthis threats. He was by no means a man to trifle with.
For a moment she was thoughtful, then she laughed defiantly in his face."Speak! Say what you will. But if you do, you suffer with me."
"You say that exposure is imminent," he remarked. "How did the girlmanage to return to Glencardine?"
"With Walter's aid. He went down to Woodnewton. What passed between themI have no idea. I only returned the day before yesterday from the South.All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knowsmuch more than he ought to know."
"Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "Theold man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe."
"How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may havedone. The old man dotes upon the girl."
"I know all that."
"And she may have turned upon you, and told the truth about the safeincident. That's more than likely."
"She dare not utter a word."
"You're far too self-confident. It is your failing."
"And when, pray, has it failed? Tell me."
"Never, until the present moment. Your bluff is perfect, yet there aremoments when it cannot aid you, depend upon it. She told me one nightlong ago, in my own room, when she had disobeyed, defied, and annoyedme, that she would never rest until Sir Henry knew the truth, and thatshe would place before him proofs of the other affair. She has longintended to do this; and now, thanks to your attitude of passiveinertness, she has accomplished her intention
s."
"What!" he gasped in distinct alarm, "has she told her father thetruth?"
"A telegram I received from Sir Henry late last night makes it only tooplain that he knows something," responded the unhappy woman, staringstraight before her. "It is your fault--your fault!" she went on,turning suddenly upon her companion again. "I warned you of the dangerlong ago."
Flockart stood motionless. The announcement which the woman had madestaggered him.
Felix Krail had come to him in Paris, and after some hesitation, andwith some reluctance, had described how he had followed the girl alongthe Nene bank and thrown her into the deepest part of the river, knowingthat she would be hampered by her skirts and that she could not swim."She will not trouble us further. Never fear!" he had said. "It will bethought a case of suicide through love. Her mental depression is thecommon talk of the neighbourhood."
And yet the girl was safe and now home again at Glencardine! Hereflected upon the ugly facts of "the other affair" to which herladyship sometimes referred, and his face went ashen pale.
Just at the moment when success had come to them after all theiringenuity and all their endeavours--just at a moment when they coulddemand and obtain what terms they liked from Sir Henry to preserve thesecret of the financial combine--came this catastrophe.
"Felix was a fool to have left his work only half-done," he remarkedaloud, as though speaking to himself.
"What work?" asked the hollow-eyed woman eagerly. But he did not satisfyher. To explain would only increase her alarm and render her even moredesperate than she was.
"Did I not tell you often that, from her, we had all to fear?" cried thewoman frantically. "But you would not listen. And now I am--I'm face toface with the inevitable. Disaster is before me. No power can avert it.The girl will have a bitter and terrible revenge."
"No," he cried quickly, with fierce determination. "No, I'll save you,Winnie. The girl shall not speak. I'll go up to Glencardine to-night andface it out. You will come with me."
"I!" gasped the shrinking woman. "Ah, no. I--I couldn't. I dare not facehim. You know too well I dare not!"