Vice Versa Part 46

The Doctor was more angry than an impartial lover of justice might perhaps approve of, but then it must be remembered that he had seen himself completely outwitted and his authority set at nought in a very humiliating fas.h.i.+on.

However, his excessive wrath cooled Paul's own resentment instead of inflaming it; it made him reflect that, after all, it was he who had the best right to be angry.

"Well," he said, rather coldly, "we must find him first, and then consider what shall be done to him. If you will allow me I will ring and----"

But before he could lay his hand upon the bell the library door opened, and Uncle Marmaduke made his appearance, dragging with him the unwilling d.i.c.k: the unfortunate boy was effectually sobered now, pale and trembling and besmirched with coal-dust--in fact, in very much the same plight as his ill-used father had been in only three hours ago.

There was a brazen smile of triumph on Mr. Paradine's face as he met Paul's eyes with a knowing wink, which the latter did not at all understand.

Such audacity astonished him, for he could hardly believe that Paradine, after his perfidious conduct in the billiard-room, could have the clumsy impudence to try to propitiate him now.

"Here he is, my boy," shouted Paradine; "here's the scamp who has given us all this trouble! He came into the billiard-room just now and told me who he was, but I would have nothing to do with him of course. Not my business, as I told him at the time. Then--(I think I have the pleasure of seeing Dr. Grimstone? just so) well, then you, sir, arrived--and he made himself scarce. But when I saw him in the act of making a bolt up the area, where he had been taking shelter apparently in the coal-cellar, I thought it was time to interfere, and so I collared him.

I have much pleasure in handing him over now to the proper authorities."

And, letting d.i.c.k go, he advanced towards his brother-in-law, still with the same odd expression of having a secret understanding with him, which made Paul's blood boil.

"Stand where you are, sir," said Paul to his son. "No, Dr. Grimstone, allow me--leave him to me for the present, please."

"That's much better," whispered Paradine approvingly; "capital. Keep it up, my boy; keep it up! Papa's as quiet as a lamb now. Go on."

Then Paul understood; his worthy brother-in-law had not been present at the last transformation and was under a slight misapprehension: he evidently imagined that he had by this last stroke made himself and d.i.c.k masters of the situation--it was time to undeceive him.

"Have the goodness to leave my house at once, will you!" he said sternly.

"You young fool!" said Marmaduke, under his breath, "after all I have done for you, too! Is this your grat.i.tude? You know you can't get on without me. Take care what you're about!"

"If you can't see that the tables are turned at last," said Paul slowly, "you're a duller knave than I take you to be."

Marmaduke started back with an oath: "It's a trick," he said savagely; "you want to get rid of me."

"I certainly intend to," said Paul. "Are you satisfied? Do you want proofs--shall I give them--I did just now in the billiard-room?"

Paradine went to d.i.c.k and shook him angrily: "You young idiot!" he said, in a furious aside, "why didn't you tell me? What did you let me make a fool of myself like this for, eh?"

"I did tell you," muttered d.i.c.k, "only you wouldn't listen. It just serves you right!"

Marmaduke soon collected himself after this unexpected shock; he tried to shake Paul's hands with an airy geniality. "Only my little joke," he said, laughing; "ha, ha, I thought I should take you in!... Why, I knew it directly.... I've been working for you all the time--but it wouldn't have done to let you see my line."

"No," said Paul; "it was not a very straight one, as usual."

"Well," said Marmaduke, "I shouldn't have stopped Master d.i.c.k there if I hadn't been on your side, should I now? I knew you'd come out of it all right, but I had a difficult game to play, don't you know? I don't wonder that you didn't follow me just at first."

"You've lost your game," said Paul; "it's no use to say any more. So now, perhaps, you'll go?"

"Go, eh?" said Paradine, without showing much surprise at the failure of so very forlorn a hope, "oh, very well, just as you please, of course. Let your poor wife's only brother go from your doors without a penny in the world!--but I warn you that a trifle or so laid out in stopping my mouth would not be thrown away. Some editors would be glad enough of a sensation from real life just now, and I could tell some very odd tales about this little affair!"

"Tell them, if a character for sanity is of no further use to you," said Paul. "Tell them to anyone you can get to believe you--tell the crossing-sweeper and the policemen, tell your grandmother, tell the horse-marines--it will amuse them. Only, you shall tell them on the other side of my front door. Shall I call anyone to show you out?"

Paradine saw his game was really played out, and swaggered insolently to the door: "Not on my account, I beg," he said. "Good-bye, Paul, my boy, no more dissolving views. Good-bye, my young friend Richard, it was good fun while it lasted, eh? like the Servian crown--always a pleasant reminiscence! Good evening to you, Doctor. By the way, for educational purposes let me recommend a 'Penang lawyer'--buy one as you go back for the boys--just to show them you haven't forgotten them!"

And, having little luggage to impede him, the front door closed upon him shortly afterwards--this time for ever.

When he had gone, d.i.c.k looked imploringly at his father and then at the Doctor, who, until Paradine's parting words had lashed him into fury again, had been examining the engravings on the walls with a studied delicacy during the recent painful scene, and was now leaning against the chimney-piece with his arms folded and a sepulchral gloom on his brow.

"Richard," said Mr. Bult.i.tude, in answer to the look, "you have not done much to deserve consideration at my hands."

"Or at mine!" added the Doctor ominously.

"No," said d.i.c.k, "I know I haven't. I've been a brute. I deserve a jolly good licking."

"You do," said his father, but in spite of his indignation, the broken-down look of the boy, and the memory of his own sensations when waiting to be caned that morning, moved him to pity. And then d.i.c.k had shown some compunction in the billiard-room: he was not entirely lost to feeling.

"Well," he said at last, "you've acted very wrongly. Because I thought it best that you should not--ahem, leave your studies for this party, you chose to disobey me and alarm your master by defying my orders and coming home by stealth--that was your object, I presume?"

"Y--yes," said d.i.c.k, looking rather puzzled, but seeing that he was expected to agree; "that was it."

"You know as well as I do what good cause I have to be angry; but, if I consent to overlook your conduct this time, if I ask Dr. Grimstone to overlook it too" (the Doctor made an inarticulate protest, while d.i.c.k stared, incredulous), "will you undertake to behave better for the future--will you?"

d.i.c.k's voice broke at this, and his eyes swam--he was effectually conquered. "Oh, I will!" he cried, "I will, really. I never meant to go so far when I began."

"Then, Dr. Grimstone," said Paul, "you will do me a great favour if you will take no further notice of this. You see the boy is sorry, and I am sure he will apologise to you amply for the grave slight he has done you. And by the way--I should have mentioned it before--but he will have to leave your care at the end of the term for a public school--I intend to send him to Harrow, so he will require some additional preparation, perhaps: I may leave that in your hands?"

Dr. Grimstone looked deeply offended, but he only said, "I will see to that myself, my dear sir. I am sorry you did not tell me this earlier.

But, may I suggest that a large public school has its pitfalls for a boy of your son's disposition? And I trust this leniency may not have evil consequences, but I doubt it--I greatly doubt it."

As for d.i.c.k, he ran to his father, and hung gratefully on to his arm with a remorseful hug, a thing he had never dared to do, or thought of attempting, in his life till then.

"Dad," he said in a choked voice, "you're a brick! I don't deserve any of it, but I'll never forget this as long as I live."

Mr. Bult.i.tude too, felt something spring up in his heart which drew him towards the boy in an altogether novel manner, but no one will say that either was the worse for it.

"Well," he said mildly, "prove to me that I have made no mistake. Go back to Crichton House now, work and play well, and try to keep out of mischief for the rest of the term. I trust to you," he added, in a lower tone, "while you remain at Market Rodwell, to keep my--my connection with it a secret; you owe that at least to me. You may probably have--ahem, some inconveniences to put up with--inconveniences you are not prepared for. You must bear them as your punishment."

And soon afterwards a cab was called, and Dr. Grimstone prepared to return to Market Rodwell, with the deserter, by the last train.

As Paul shook hands through the cab window with his prodigal son, he repeated his warning. "Mind," he said, "_you_ have been at school all this past week; you have run away to attend this party, you understand?

Good-bye, my boy, and here's something to put in your pocket, and another for Jolland; but he need not know it comes from me." And when d.i.c.k opened his hand afterwards, he found two half-sovereigns in it.

So the cab rolled away, and Paul went up to the drawing-room, where, although he certainly allowed the fireworks on the balcony and in the garden to languish forgotten on their sticks, he led all the other revels up to an advanced hour with jovial _abandon_ quite worthy of d.i.c.k, and none of his little guests ever suspected the change of host.

When it was all over, and the sleepy children had driven off, Paul sat down in an easy chair by the bright fire which sparkled frostily in his bedroom, to think gratefully over all the events of the day--events which were beginning already to take an unreal and fantastic shape.

Bitterly as he had suffered, and in spite of the just anger and thirst for revenge with which he had returned, I am glad to say he did not regret the spirit of mildness that had stayed his hand when his hour of triumph came.

His experiences, unpleasant as they had been, had had their advantages: they had drawn him and his family closer together.

In his daughter Barbara, as she wished him good-night (knowing nothing, of course, of the escape), he had suddenly become aware of a girlish freshness and grace he had never looked for or cared to see before. Roly after this, too, had a claim upon him he could never wish to forget, and even with the graceless d.i.c.k there was a warmer and more natural feeling on both sides--a strange result, no doubt, of such unfilial behaviour, but so it was.

Mr. Bult.i.tude would never after this consider his family as a set of troublesome and thankless inc.u.mbrances; thanks to d.i.c.k's offices during the interregnum, they would henceforth throw off their reserve and constraint in their father's presence, and in so doing, open his eyes to qualities of which he had hitherto been in contented ignorance.