CHAPTER XXII.
MAN TO MAN.
The flat was in utter darkness when Harry arrived between nine and ten.He was disappointed, and yet not surprised. He knew that his mother wasto have returned from the sea by this time, but that was all he didknow. He found the porter, and asked him how he was redirecting theletters.
The man gave Mr. Walthew's address. Harry groaned.
"Mrs. Ringrose has never been back since she first went away?"
"No, sir."
"You have the key of the flat?"
"Yes, sir; my wife goes up there every day."
"Then get her to go up now and light the gas stove and lay the table.I'll bring in the provisions if she'll do that and make my bed for me.Tell her I know it's late, but----"
"That's all right, sir," interrupted the porter, a familiar butobliging soul; and when Harry returned in ten minutes, with his slicesof pressed beef and his French rolls and butter, from the delightfulshop round a couple of corners, the flat was lighted like apublic-house, and you lost sight of your breath in the minutedining-room where the asbestos was reddening in the grate.
Yet it was a sorry home-coming, that put Harry painfully in mind of hislast, and he felt very wistful and lonely when he had finished hissupper and written a few lines to his mother. He came in from postingthem with an ounce of birdseye, and dragged an easy chair from underits dust-sheet in the other room, and so arranged himself comfortablyenough in front of the gas stove. But his first pipe for several weeksdid no more for him than Weber's Last Waltz, which duly welcomed himthrough the ceiling. He was unused to solitude, and the morrow'sinterview with Lowndes sat heavily on his nerves. His one consolationwas that it would take place before his mother's return. She must knownothing until he knew all. And he had begged her not to hurry back onhis account.
In the sideboard that was so many sizes too large for the room--theschoolroom sideboard of the old home--he at last laid hands upon somewhisky, and in his loneliness and suppressed excitement he certainlydrank more than was good for him before going to bed. Immense andimmediate confidence accrued, only to evaporate before it was wanted;and morning found him nervous, depressed, and dearly wishing that hehad gone hot from Scrafton to Lowndes the day before. But the bravestman is he who goes trembling and yet smiling into action, and, afterall, it was a sufficiently determined face that Harry Ringrose carriedthrough the sloppy City streets that foggy forenoon.
In the outer office the same small clerk was perched on the same tallstool: but Bacchus sat solitary, in his top-coat and with a redder nosethan ever, at the desk in the inner office, the door of which wasstanding open.
"Good-morning, Mr. Backhouse," said Harry entering. "Mr. Lowndes isout?"
"Very much out."
"Doesn't he come here now?"
"No."
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mr. Backhouse, but can you tell me where Ican find him?"
"Offices of the Crofter Fisheries."
"Where are they?"
"Hartington House, Cornhill."
So brusque was his manner, so different from Harry's recollection ofthe red-nosed man, that the young fellow thanked him for hisinformation with marked stiffness, whereupon the other sprang up andclapped on his hat.
"I don't mean to be rude to you, Mr. Ringrose, but I'm sick of thatman's name," cried he: "it gives me a thirst every time I hear it.Didn't you know about the Company? It comes out next week--they'regoing to have a solid page in every morning paper on Monday--capitalone million, and everything but Royalty on the board! Lowndes has madehimself General Manager with God knows how many thousand a year, and Iwas to be Secretary with five hundred. He promised it to me again andagain--he had the use of these offices rent free for months--and usedto borrow from the housekeeper when I had nothing--and now he gives itover my head to one of his aristocratic pals. I tell you, Mr. Ringrose,it makes me dry to think of it! Come and let me buy you a drink."
Harry thanked him but declined, and, on the way downstairs, askedwhether Lowndes still lived at Richmond.
"He may be there still," said Bacchus, "but I hear he's going to moveinto an abbey or castle--I forget which--as soon as the Company comesout. He's renting it furnished from one of these belted blokes he's gotin with. So you won't have the least little split? Well, good-bye then,Mr. Ringrose, and may Gordon Lowndes prove a better friend to you thanhe has to me!"
Harry could not help smiling grimly as he headed for Cornhill. Thegrievance of Bacchus was as much his own. Most heartily he wished hehad no worse.
Hartington House proved to be a modern pile with a lift worked by asmart boy in buttons; and the offices of the Crofter Fisheries,Limited, occupied the whole of one floor. If Harry had felt nervouswhen climbing the familiar stairs in Leadenhall Street, he might wellhave been overpowered by the palatial character of the new premises. Acommissionaire with as many medals as a Field-Marshal handed his cardto one gentleman, who passed it on to another gentleman, who carried itthrough a ground-glass door. Harry was then conducted into a luxuriouswaiting-room in which two or three busy-looking men were glancingalternately at their watches and at the illustrated papers whichstrewed the table. A single gigantic salmon occupied a glass caserunning the length of the mantelpiece, while several new oil paintingshung upon the walls. Harry noticed that the subjects were exclusivelyScottish, and that one at least was by a distinguished Academician, ofwhose name the most was made in black letters on a gilt tablet.
In such surroundings the visitor found it a little difficult torehearse what he had determined to say to Lowndes, and it was nomisfortune that kept him waiting the better part of an hour. The delaygave him time to gather his wits and to recollect his points. Itprepared him for a new Gordon Lowndes. It steadied his feet when theysank into the rich carpet of a still more sumptuous apartment, in themiddle of which stood the most magnificent desk he had ever seen; itkept his eye from being distracted from the resplendent gentleman whosat at the desk, the gentleman with the orchid in the silken lapel ofhis frock-coat, and with everything new upon him but the goldeye-glasses that bridged the twitching nose.
Before his mouth opened beneath his waxed moustache, Harry feltconvinced that Lowndes had seen Scrafton, and was fully prepared forthis visit.
"Well, Ringrose, what can I do for you?" he cried, as Harry advanced,and his tone was both cold and sharp.
"Ask your typist to step into another room," replied Harry, glancingtowards the young girl at the clicking Remington.
Lowndes opened his eyes. Indeed, Harry had begun better than he himselfexpected, and his confidence increased as the other turned to histypist.
"Be good enough to leave us for a minute, Miss Neilson; we shan't belonger," said Lowndes pointedly. "Now," he added, "kindly take a seat,Ringrose."
But Harry came and stood at the other side of the magnificent desk.
"I want to ask you two or three questions, Mr. Lowndes," said hequietly.
"About the Company, eh?"
"No, not about the Company, Mr. Lowndes."
"Then this is neither the time nor place, and it will have to be a veryshort minute. But blaze away."
"What is there between you and that man Scrafton?" asked Harry, and forthe life of him he could steady his voice no longer. His very lip wastrembling now.
"Which man Scrafton?" asked Lowndes, beginning to smile.
"You know as well as I do!" Harry almost shouted. "The other master inthe school at Teddington--the man whose existence you pretended not toknow of when I met you that afternoon on Ham Common. I ask you whatthere is between you. I ask you why you pretended there was nothingthat Saturday afternoon--that Monday morning when you came to intercepthim and pretended you had come to see me. I ask you what there wasbetween that ruffian and--my father!"
His voice was almost breaking in his passion and his agony, but he wasno longer nervous and self-conscious. That agony of doubt and ofsuspicion--that passionate determination to know the truth--had alreadyfloated him beyond the shoals of self. Lo
wndes waved a soothing hand,and his tone altered instantly. It was as though he realised that hewas dealing with a dangerous fellow.
"Steady, Ringrose, steady!" said he. "You must answer me one questionif you want answers to all those."
And there was a touch of the old kindness in his tone, a strange anddisconcerting touch, for it sounded genuine.
"As many as you like--_I_ have nothing to hide," cried Harry. And hehad the satisfaction of making Lowndes wince.
"What makes you think I am acquainted with the man you mention?"
"What makes me think it?" echoed Harry, with a hard laugh. "Why, I'veseen you together!"
"When?" cried Lowndes.
"The very day I saw you last. I came over to tell you something I'dheard the fellow say. I wanted to consult you of all men! And therewere the two of you walking up and down your garden path."
"Was it the evening?"
"Yes, it was, and you walked up and down by the hour--likeconspirators--like confederates!"
Lowndes had started up and was leaning across his desk. His handsgripped the edge of it. His face was ghastly.
"Spy!" he hissed. "You listened to what we were saying."
"I didn't," retorted Harry. "You knew one gentleman even then."
There were several sorts of folly in this speech: no sooner was ituttered than Harry saw one. Had he been less ready to deny theeavesdropping he might have learnt something now. By pretending to knowmuch he might have learnt all. He had lost a chance.
And Gordon Lowndes--that arch-exponent of the game of bluff--was quickas lightning to appreciate his good fortune. The blood rushed back tohis face, his hands came away from the mahogany (two little tell-taledabs they left behind them), and he sank back into his luxuriouschair--with a droop of the eyelids and ever so slight a shake of thehead--an artist deploring the inartistic for art's sake while hewelcomed it for his own.
Harry was furious at his false move, and at this frank though tacitrecognition of the lost advantage.
"I wish I had listened!" he cried. "God knows what I should have heard,but something you dare not tell me, that I can see. There! I have beenfool enough to answer your questions; now it's your turn to answermine, and to tell me what there is between you and Scrafton."
"Well, he's a man I've had a slight acquaintance with for a year ortwo. He lodges--or he did lodge--in Richmond. I scraped acquaintancewith him because his face interested me. But it isn't more interestingthan the man himself, who is the one genius I know--the one walkinganachronism----"
"I know all about that," interrupted Harry. "Why did you pretend youknew nothing about him? That's what I want to get at. You don't denyyou led me to think you had never heard of him?"
"No--I did my best to do so."
"You admit it now! And why did you do your best? What was the meaningof it? What had you to gain?"
"Nothing."
"Then why did you do it?"
"My good fellow, that's my business."
"Mine too," said Harry thickly. "This man knows something of my father;you know something of this man; and first you pretend you don't--andthen you try to prepare him for meeting me. I suppose you admit it wasScrafton you came to see that morning?"
"Well, I confess I wanted to put salt on the fellow; and, as he'd leftRichmond, that was my only way."
"Exactly!" cried Harry. "You wanted to put salt on him because therewas some mystery between the two of you and my father, and you werefrightened he'd let something out. By God, Lowndes, there's sometreachery too, if there isn't crime! Sit still. I'm not going to stop.Ring your bell if you like, and I'll tell every man in the office--I'lltell every big-wig on the board. There's treachery somewhere--there maybe crime--and I've suspected it from the beginning. Yes, I suspectedyou the first time I set eyes upon you. I suspected you when we talkedabout my poor father in his own room and in the train. You looked aguilty man then--you look a guilty man now. Confess your guilt, or, bythe living Lord, I'll tell every director of this Company! Ah, you maylaugh--that's your dodge when you're in a corner--you've told me sooften enough--but you were white a minute ago!"
The laugh had stopped and the whiteness returned as Lowndes sprang upand walked quickly round the desk to where Harry stood. He laid a handon Harry's arm. The boy shook it off. And yet there was a kindnessbehind the other's glasses--the old kindness that had disconcertedHarry once already.
"Consider what you are saying, Ringrose," said Lowndes quietly. "You'regoing on like a young madman. Pull yourself together and just consider.You talk of telling tales in a way that is neither nice nor wise. Whatdo you know to tell?"
This simple question was like ice on the hot young head.
"Enough, at any rate," he stammered presently, "to put me on the trackof more."
"Then I advise you to find out the more before you make use ofthreats."
"I intend to do so. I'll be at the bottom of your villainy yet!"
Lowndes darkened.
"Do you want to force me to have you turned out?" he asked fiercely."Upon my word, Ringrose, you try the patience of the best friend youever had. Didn't I stand by you when you landed? Didn't I do the best Icould for you when I was on the rocks myself? Now I'm afloat again Iwant to stand by you still, but you make it devilish difficult. Ihonestly meant to make you Secretary of this Company, but when the chapwho helped me to pull it through asked for the billet, what could I do?Here's an envelope that will show you I haven't forgotten you; take it,Ringrose, and look at it at your convenience, and try to think morecharitably of an old friend. Recollect that I was your father's friendfirst."
"So you say," said Harry, taking the long thick envelope and lookingstraight through the gold-rimmed glasses. "I will believe you when youtell me where he is."
"I know no more than the man in the moon."
"You were at the bottom of his disappearance!"
"I give you my word that I was not."
"You know whether he is dead or alive!"
"I do not, Ringrose."
"Then tell me where you saw him last!"
"You sicken me," cried Lowndes, losing his temper suddenly. "I told youthe whole story six months ago, and now you want me to tell it youagain so that you may challenge every point. I'll answer no more ofyour insolent questions, and I'll tell the commissionaire to mark youdown and never to admit you again. You hold in your hand fifty sharesin this Company. Next week they will be worth a hundred pounds--nextmonth perhaps a thousand--next year very likely five. Take them foryour mother's sake, if not for your own, and for God's sake let menever see your face again!"
"From the man who may be at the bottom of our disgrace? No, thankyou--not until you tell me what you did with my father--you andScrafton between you!"
"I have already answered you."
"Then so much for your fifty shares."
The long envelope spun into the fire. Lowndes darted to his desk,caught the electric bell that dangled over it, and pressed the button.Harry stalked to the door, turned round, and faced him for the lasttime.
"You will not tell me the truth; very well, I will find it out. I willfind it out," cried Harry Ringrose in a breaking voice, "if I have tospend my whole life in doing so. And if you have wronged my father Iwill have no mercy on you; and if you have not--all I ask is--thatyou--have no mercy on me!"