A Master Of Deception Part 19

"In order to avoid misunderstanding, I wish to state that, since I have reason to believe that my services would not be welcome--and, indeed, learn that another solicitor has already been retained, whom I see present--I wish to withdraw at the earliest possible moment from all connection with Mr. Patterson's estate and affairs, and also that I renounce administration. I will not act as executor."

When the lawyer stopped, Mr. Andrews had his say:

"I'm very much in the same position as Mr. Wilkes. If Miss Patterson would rather I did not act as manager, I have not the slightest wish to press my claim. I'm given to understand, Miss Patterson, that Mr.

Elmore here is likely to become your husband. From a conversation I had with him this morning, I--I'm inclined to think that I am older than I supposed, and that it would be to your advantage and to the advantage of the business that the management of affairs should be in his hands. Also, if you wish it, so as not to be a clog on you in any way, I will not act as executor."

Rodney answered for his cousin:

"You must act as executor, Mr. Andrews; Miss Patterson will very unwillingly release you from that duty. The other point she will discuss with you later; you will find that she is as anxious to consider your wishes as you are to consider hers. I may remark to you, Mr. Wilkes, as well as to Mr. Andrews, that Miss Patterson is grateful for the delicate thought which prompts your proposed action, and she will endeavour in all she does to show that she appreciates at its full value all that you have done for her father, and, by consequence, for her. I think, gentlemen, that, at present, that is all."

The meeting was dissolved. The three gentlemen dismissed. The cousins were left together. Kneeling before the armchair on which Miss Patterson was seated, Rodney drew her towards him and kissed her with a sort of mock solemnity.

"My congratulations, lady! if I may venture to kiss one who is now a person of property and importance. I hope you won't mind, but I almost wish, for my sake, that you hadn't quite so much money."

She put out her hand and softly stroked his hair.

"That's nonsense. How much money have I got?"

"Roughly, I suppose that the business brings in four or five thousand a year, and you've forty or fifty thousand pounds in what represents cash. You're a rich woman."

"Then, if you do marry me, you'll be a rich man."

"There's one thing--put the business at its highwater mark, say that in its best year it brings in five thousand pounds--in ten years it shall bring in fifty thousand."

"Rodney, don't be too speculative. We've enough to get along with; let's be sure of having a good time with what there is."

"My dear lady, I'm no speculator--not such a fool; but I don't want to see a gold-mine producing only copper. You've twice the head your father had, and keener, because younger, eyes. Shortly I shall hope to lay my ideas before you; when you have a.s.similated them, you will be able to judge for yourself whether or not they're speculative. You'll see, what even old Andrews already sees, that you're the possessor of a gold-mine--a veritable gold-mine--which hitherto has been worked as if it were merely a copper-mine. When you begin to work it as a gold-mine, in less than ten years it will be bringing you in fifty thousand pounds a year; I shouldn't be surprised if it brings you twice as much--honestly."

"A hundred thousand pounds a year, Rodney!"

"Wait--you'll see! This is the age of miracles, which, when you look into them, have the simplest natural causes. Seriously, Gladys, there's no reason why, properly handled, the business of which you are now the sole proprietress--because you can easily get rid of Andrews--should not make you rich beyond the dreams of avarice. Wilkes has been quick in taking the hint, hasn't he?"

"I don't like him--I never did. I think I shall like Mr. Parmiter much better."

"I'm sure you will. He's an awfully good sort and as clever as they make them--and straight! He'll make your interests his own."

There was a momentary pause. The gentleman was still kneeling in front of the armchair, and the lady was still stroking his hair. There was a look on her face which was half comical and half something else as she changed the topic.

"Rodney, who's Agnes Sybil Armstrong?"

"I don't know, and don't you ask. Let her have her hundred a year, and go hang!"

"Does every man have an Agnes Sybil Armstrong?"

"Emphatically no; only--I was going to say only men like your father, but perhaps you wouldn't like it."

"I wonder--will you ever have one?"

"Gladys! Lady, if a man loves one woman, that's all the feminine kind he'll ever want, especially--if she's a woman like you. Doesn't your instinct tell you that when you're my wife, I'll--be satisfied, in every sense?"

"I hope so. If you weren't, I--I shouldn't like it."

"I should say not. May I hope that there is some possibility of your being my wife?"

"I have some ideas in that direction now, though on Sat.u.r.day I thought I never should. How prophetic you were? You almost foretold what has happened--almost as if you saw it coming. Did you know that he was ill?"

"I had a shrewd suspicion; but you don't suppose I foresaw what actually did happen?"

"I dare say that yours was not the prophetic vision quite to that extent. I wonder why he didn't like you?"

"I'm nearly sure that with him it was a case of Dr. Fell--the reason why he couldn't tell. When you came on the scene he hated me because you didn't."

"Didn't you do anything to ruffle him--to rub him the wrong way?"

"Never--consciously. I've a notion--it's only a notion, but my notions are apt to be pretty near the mark--that he had some idea of marrying you to Mr. Stephen Wilkes."

"Rodney! Good gracious! What a notion!"

"As I remarked, it's only a notion; but I can put two and two together, and something in the gentleman's manner this morning put the crown on my suspicions."

"I'd rather have died."

"Or married me? Well--do! How soon could you make it convenient?"

"How soon would you like it to be?"

"This is Monday. Say Thursday--next?"

"Rodney! How can you?"

"Then make it Friday--if you've no prejudice against the day."

"I'll never be married on a Friday."

"Then postpone it to that far-off date, Sat.u.r.day, or even Monday. I don't know if you want a smart wedding; if you do, what indefinite postponement may the conventions require?"

"I don't want a smart wedding."

"That sounds hopeful. You're all I want; I don't know if I'm all you want."

"Well; you are one thing."

"Am I? Thanks--you have a nice way. I tell you what, I'll get a special licence--hang the expense--and we'll be married on Monday."

"I won't be married in black, and I will have one bridesmaid; I'll have Cissie Henderson. She's my particular friend; she likes you; she's been on our side all through; and she'll strain a point--when I've put it to her as I shall, she'll have to. As a matter of fact, I believe she'll love to."

"And Clarence Parmiter shall be my best man, and old Andrews shall give you away."

"I don't know about old Andrews."