"MR. WINGRAVE FROM AMERICA"
"Four years ago tonight," Aynesworth said, looking round the clubsmoking room thoughtfully, "we bade you farewell in this same room!"
Lovell, wan and hollow-eyed, his arm in a sling, his once burly framegaunt and attenuated with disease, nodded.
"And I told you the story," he remarked, "of--the man who had been myfriend."
"Don't let us talk of Wingrave tonight!" Aynesworth exclaimed withsudden emphasis.
"Why not?" Lovell knocked the ashes from his pipe, and commencedleisurely to refill it. "Why not, indeed? I mean to go and see him assoon as I can get about a little better."
"If your description of him," Aynesworth said, "was a faithful one, youwill find him changed."
Lovell laughed a little bitterly.
"The years leave their mark," he said, "upon us all--upon all of us,that is, who step out into the open where the winds of life are blowing.Look at me! I weighed eighteen stone when I left England. I had themuscles of a prize fighter and nerves of steel. Today I turn the scaleat ten stone and am afraid to be alone in the dark."
"You will be yourself again in no time," Aynesworth declared cheerfully.
"I shall be better than I am now, I hope," Lovell answered, "but Ishall never be the man I was. I have seen--God grant that I may someday forget what I have seen! No wonder that my nerves have gone! I sawa Russian correspondent, a strong brutal-looking man, go off intohysterics; I saw another run amuck through the camp, shooting rightand left, and, finally, blow his own brains out. Many a night I sobbedmyself to sleep. The men who live through tragedies, Aynesworth, agefast. I expect that I shall find Wingrave changed."
"I would give a good deal," Aynesworth declared, "to have known him whenyou did."
Lovell nodded.
"You should be able to judge of the past," he said, "by the present.Four years of--intimate companionship with any man should be enough!"
"Perhaps!" Aynesworth declared. "And yet I can assure you that I knowno more of Wingrave today than when I was first attracted to him by yourstory and became his secretary. It is a humiliating confession, but itis the truth."
"That is why you remain with him," Lovell remarked.
"I suppose so! I have often meant to leave, but somehow, when the timecomes, I stay on. His life seems to be made up of brutalities, small andlarge. He ruins a man with as little compunction as one could fancy him,in his younger days, pulling the legs from a fly. I have never seen himdo a kindly action. And yet, all the time I find myself watching forit. A situation arises, and I say to myself: 'Now I am going to seesomething different.' I never do, and yet I always expect it. Am Iboring you, Lovell?"
"Not in the least! Go on! Anything concerning Wingrave interests me."
"It is four years ago, you know, since I went to him. My first glimpseof his character was the cold brutality with which he treated Lady Ruthwhen she went to see him. Then we went down to his country place inCornwall. There was a small child there, whose father had been theorganist of the village, and who had died penniless. There was no one tolook after her, no one to save her from the charity schools and domesticservice afterwards. The church was on Wingrave's estate, it shouldhave been his duty to augment the ridiculous salary the dead man hadreceived. Would you believe it, Wingrave refused to do a single thingfor that child! He went down there like a vandal to sell the heirloomsand pictures which had belonged to his family for generations. He had notime, he told me coldly, for sentiment."
"It sounds brutal enough," Lovell admitted. "What became of the child?"
"One of her father's relations turned up after all and took care ofher," Aynesworth said. "Wingrave knew nothing about that, though. Thenon the voyage across the Atlantic, there was a silly, pretty littlewoman on board who was piqued by Wingrave's indifference and tried toflirt with him. In a few days she was his slave. She was going home toher husband, and you would have thought that any decent fellow wouldhave told her that she was a little fool, and let her go. But notWingrave! She was landing with him at New York, but someone amongst thepassengers, who guessed what was up, sent a Marconigram to her husband,and he met us at the landing stage."
"Nothing came of that, then?"
"No, but it wasn't Wingrave's fault. Then he began dealing withsome shares in a mine--THE mine, you know. They were supposed to beworthless, and one boy, who was a little young to the game, sold him toomany. Wingrave was bleeding these brokers for hundreds of thousands ofdollars, and the boy came and asked to be let off by paying his wholefortune to escape being hammered. Wingrave refused. I believe if the boyhadn't just been married, he'd have blown his brains out!"
Lovell laughed.
"I don't envy you your job," he remarked. "Is there nothing to set downon the credit side of the ledger?"
"Not much," Aynesworth answered. "He is a fine sportsman, and hesaved my life in the Rockies, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortablesometimes. He has a sense of justice, for he heard of this mine from aman in prison, and he has kept accounts showing the fellow's share downto the last halfpenny. But I have never yet known him to speak a kindlyword or do a kindly deed. He seems intent upon carrying out to theletter his own principles--to make as many people as possible suffer forhis own broken life. Now he is back here, a millionaire, with immensepower for good or for evil, I am almost afraid of him. I wouldn't beLady Ruth or her husband for something."
Lovell smoked thoughtfully for a time.
"Wingrave was always a little odd," he remarked, "but I never thoughtthat he was a bad chap."
"Go and see him now!" Aynesworth said. "Tell me if you think he wears amask or whether he is indeed what he seems."
The hall porter entered the room and addressed Aynesworth.
"Gentleman called for you, sir," he announced.
"It is Wingrave," Aynesworth declared. "Come and speak to him!"
They descended the stairs together. Outside, Wingrave was leaning backin the corner of an electric brougham, reading the paper. Aynesworth puthis head in at the window.
"You remember Lovell, Mr. Wingrave?" he said. "We were just talking whenyour message came up. I've brought him down to shake hands with you."
Wingrave folded his paper down at the precise place where he had beenreading and extended a very limp hand. His manner betrayed not theslightest interest or pleasure.
"How are you, Lovell?" he asked. "Some time since we met!"
"A good many years," Lovell answered.
"Finished your campaigning?" Wingrave inquired. "Knocked you about abit, haven't they?"
"They very nearly finished me," Lovell admitted. "I shall pick up allright over here, though."
There was a moment's silence. Lovell's thoughts had flashed backwardsthrough the years, back to the time when he had sat within a few feetof this man in the crowded court of justice and listened through thepainful stillness of that heavy atmosphere, charged with tragedy, to theslow unfolding of the drama of his life. There had been passion enoughthen in his voice and blazing in his eyes, emotion enough in histwitching features and restless gestures to speak of the fire below. Andnow, pale and cold, the man who had gripped his fingers then and held onto them like a vise, seemed to find nothing except a slight boredom inthis unexpected meeting.
"I shall see you again, I hope," Wingrave remarked at last. "By thebye, if we do meet, I should be glad if you would forget our pastacquaintance. Sir Wingrave Seton does not exist any longer. I prefer tobe known only as Mr. Wingrave from America."
Lovell nodded.
"As you wish, of course," he answered. "I do not think," he added,"that you need fear recognition. I myself should have passed you in thestreet."
Wingrave leaned back in the carriage.
"Aynesworth," he said, "if you are ready, will you get in and tell theman to drive to Cadogan Square? Good night, Mr. Lovell!"
Lovell re-entered the club with a queer little smile at his lips. Thebrougham glided up into the Strand, and turned westwards.
"We
are going straight to the Barringtons'?" Aynesworth asked.
"Yes," Wingrave answered. "While I think of it, Aynesworth, I wish youto remember this. Both Lady Ruth and her husband seem to think it partof the game to try and make a cat's paw of you. I am not suggesting thatthey are likely to succeed, but I do think it possible that one ofthem may ask you questions concerning certain investments in which I aminterested. I rely upon you to give them no information."
"I know very little about your investments--outside the mine,"Aynesworth answered. "They couldn't very well approach a more ignorantperson. Are you going to help Barrington to make a fortune?"
Wingrave turned his head. There was a slight contraction of theforehead, an ominous glitter in his steel grey eyes.
"I think," he said, "you know that I am not likely to do that."
The two men did not meet again till late in the evening. Lady Ruth'srooms were crowded for it was the beginning of the political season, andher parties were always popular. Nevertheless, she found time to beckonWingrave to her before they had been in the room many minutes.
"I want to talk to you," she said a little abruptly. "You might havecome this afternoon as you promised."
Lady Ruth was a wonderful woman. A well-known statesman had just asked afriend her age.
"I don't know," was the answer, "but whatever it is, she doesn't lookit."
Tonight she was almost girlish. Her complexion was delicate andperfectly natural, the graceful lines of her figure suggested more theimmaturity of youth than any undue slimness. She wore a wonderful collarof pearls around her long, shapely neck, but very little other jewelry.The touch of her fingers upon Wingrave's coat sleeve was a carefullycalculated thing. If he had thought of it, he could have felt the slightappealing pressure with which she led him towards one of the smallerrooms.
"There are two chairs there," she said. "Come and sit down. I havesomething to say to you."