The Streets of Ascalon Part 40

"You will be sorrier when you hear that about all of Strelsa's money was in that miserable Adamant Trust Company which is causing so much scandal. You didn't know Strelsa's money was in it, did you?"

"No," he said gravely.

"Isn't it dreadful? The child doesn't know whether she will ever get a penny or not. Some of those disgusting men have run away, one shot himself--you read about it!--and now they are trying to pretend that the two creatures they have arrested are insane and irresponsible. I don't care whether they are or not; I'd like to kill them. How does their insanity concern Strelsa? For three weeks she hasn't known what to think, what to expect--and even her lawyers can't tell her. I hate lawyers. But _I_ think the chances are that her pretty house will be for sale before long.... Wouldn't it be too tragic if it came into your office----"

"Don't say such things, Molly," he said, bending his head over the desk and fumbling with his pen.

"Well, I knew you'd be sympathetic. It's a shame--a crime!--it's absolutely disgusting the way that men gamble with other people's money and cheat and lie and--and--oh, it's a perfectly rotten world and I'm tired of it!"

"Where is Mrs. Leeds?" he asked in a low voice.

"At Witch-Hollow--in town for this afternoon to see her stupid lawyers.

They don't do anything. They say they can't just yet. They're lazy or--something worse. That's my opinion. We go out on the five-three train--Strelsa and I----"

"Is she--much affected?"

"No; and that's the silly part of it. It would simply wreck me. But she hasn't wept a single tear.... I suppose she'll have to marry, now--"

Mrs. Wycherly glanced askance at Quarren, but his face remained gravely expressionless.

"Ricky dear?"

"Yes."

"I had a frightful row, on your account, with Mrs. Sprowl."

"I'm sorry. Why?"

"I told her I was going to ask you and Strelsa to Witch-Hollow."

Quarren said calmly:

"Don't do it then, Molly. There's no use of your getting in wrong with Mrs. Sprowl."

Mrs. Wycherly laughed:

"Oh, I found a way around. I asked Mrs. Sprowl and Sir Charles at the same time."

"What do you mean?" he said, turning a colourless face to hers.

"What I say. Ricky dear, I suppose that Strelsa _will_ have to marry a wealthy man, now--and I believe she realises it, too--but I--I _wanted_ her to marry you, some day----"

He swung around again, confronting her.

"You darling!" he said under his breath.

Mrs. Wycherly's lip trembled and she dabbed at her eyes.

"I wish I could express my feelings like Mrs. Sprowl, but I can't," she said navely. "Sir Charles will marry her, now; I know perfectly well he will--unless Langly Sprowl----"

Quarren drew his breath sharply.

"Not that man," she said.

"G.o.d knows, Ricky. He's after Strelsa every minute--and he can make himself agreeable. The worst of it is that Strelsa does not believe what she hears about him. Women are that way, often. The moment the whole world pitches into a man, women are inclined to believe him a martyr--and end by discrediting every unworthy story concerning him....

I don't know, but I think it is already a little that way with Strelsa.... He's a clever brute--and oh! what a remorseless man!... I said that once to Strelsa, and she said very warmly that I entirely misjudged him.... I wish Mary Ledwith would come back and bring things to a crisis--I do, indeed."

Quarren said, calmly;

"You don't think Mrs. Leeds is engaged to Sprowl, do you?"

"No.... I don't think so. Sometimes I don't know what to think of Strelsa. I'm certain that she was not engaged to him four weeks ago when she was at Newport."

Quarren gazed out into the sunlit street. It was just four weeks ago that her letters ceased. Had she stopped writing because of worry over the Adamant Trust? Or was there another reason?

"I suppose," said Molly, dabbing at her eyes, "that Strelsa can't pick and choose now. I suppose she's got to marry for sordid and sensible and material reasons. But if only she would choose Sir Charles--I think I could be almost reconciled to her losing you----"

Quarren laughed harshly.

"An irreparable loss to any woman," he said. "I doubt that Mrs. Leeds survives losing me."

"Ricky! She cares a great deal for you! So do I. And Strelsa _does_ care for you----"

"Not too rashly I hope," he said with another disagreeable laugh.

"Oh, that isn't like you, Ricky! You're not the sneering, fleering nasty kind. If you are badly hurt, take it better than that----"

"I can't!" he said between set teeth. "I care for her; she knows it. I guess she knows, too, that what she once said to me started me into what I'm doing now--working, waiting, living like a dog--doing my best to keep my self-respect and obtain hers--" He choked, regained his self-control, and went on quietly:

"Why do you think I dropped out of everything? To try to develop whatever may be in me--so that I could speak to her as an equal and not as the court jester and favourite mountebank of the degenerate gang she travels with----"

"Ricky!"

"I beg your pardon," he said sullenly.

"I am not offended, you poor boy.... I hadn't realised that you were so much in love with her--so deeply concerned----"

"I have always been.... She knows it...." He cleared his eyes and turned a dazed gaze on the sunny street once more.

"If I could--" he stopped; a hopeless look came into his eyes. Then he slowly shook his head.

"Oh, Ricky! Ricky! Can't you do something? Can't you make a lot of money very quickly? You see Strelsa has simply got to marry money. Be fair; be just to her. A girl can't exist without money, can she? You know that, don't you?"

"I've heard your world say so."

"You know it's true!"

"I don't know what is true. I don't know truth from falsehood. I suppose that love requires money to keep it nourished--as roses require manure----"

"Ricky!"