The Master of the Shell Part 28

"Certainly? I've nothing to do-- Won't you take a seat?"

Mr Bickers took a seat, a little disconcerted by Railsford's determined good-humour. He had not counted upon that.

"The last time I saw you you were hardly so polite," said he, with a sneer.

"When was that? I'm very sorry if I was rude; I had no intention, I a.s.sure you."

Railsford began to feel a little like the lamb in the fable. This wolf had evidently come bent on a quarrel, and Railsford, lamb and all as he was, would have liked to oblige him. But he was quick enough to see-- with the memory of more than one failure to warn him--that his only chance with Mr Bickers was, at all costs, not to quarrel.

"You are fortunate in your short memory; it is a most convenient gift."

"It's one, at any rate, I would like to cultivate with regard to any unpleasantness there may have been between you and me, Bickers," said Railsford.

This was not a happy speech, and Mr Bickers accepted it with a laugh.

"Quite so; I can understand that. It happens, however, that I have come to a.s.sist in prolonging your memory with regard to that unpleasantness.

I'm sorry to interfere with your good intentions, but it cannot be helped this time."

"Really," said Railsford, feeling his patience considerably taxed, "all this is very perplexing. Would you mind coming to the point at once, Bickers?"

"Not at all. When I saw you yesterday I asked you to look at a letter I had with me."

"Oh, yes; I remember now. I was greatly taken up with the sports, and had no time then. I felt sure you would understand."

"I understood perfectly. I have brought the letter for you now," and he held it out.

Railsford took it with some curiosity, for Mr Bickers's manner, besides being offensive, was decidedly mysterious.

"Am I to read it?"

"Please."

The letter was a short one, written in an evidently disguised hand:

"Sir,--The name of the person who maltreated you lately is perfectly well-known in Railsford's house. No one knows his name better than Mr Railsford himself. But as the house is thriving by what has occurred, it is to n.o.body's interest to let out the secret. The writer of this knows what he is speaking about, and where to find the proofs.--A Friend."

Railsford read this strange communication once or twice, and then laughed.

"It's amusing, isn't it?" sneered Mr Bickers.

"It's absurd!" said Railsford.

"I thought you would say so," said Bickers, taking back the letter and folding it up. "For all that, I should like to know the name of the person referred to."

"You surely do not mean, Bickers, that you attach any importance to a ridiculous joke like that?"

"I attach just the importance it deserves, Railsford."

"Then I would put it in the fire, Bickers."

Mr Bickers's face darkened. Long ere now he had calculated on reducing the citadel of his adversary's good-humour, and now that it still held out, he felt his own self-possession deserting him.

"Allow me to tell you, Railsford, that I believe what that letter states!"

"Do you really? I hope when I tell you that every word of it which relates to myself is a grotesque falsehood, you will alter your opinion."

"Even that would not convince me," said Bickers.

Railsford stared at him blankly. He had surely misunderstood his words.

"I said," he repeated, and there was a tremor of excitement in his voice, which afforded his enemy the keenest pleasure--"I said that every word in that letter which refers to me is false. You surely don't believe it after that?"

"I said," repeated Mr Bickers, with a fine sneer, "that even that would not convince me."

Surely the longed-for explosion would come now! He saw Railsford's face flush and his eyes flash. But before the furious retort escaped from his lips, a wise whisper from somewhere fell between them and robbed the wolf of his prey.

"Then," said the Master of the Sh.e.l.l, forcing his lips to a smile, "there is not much to be gained by prolonging this interview, is there?"

Mr Bickers was deeply mortified. There was nothing for it now but for him to a.s.sume the _role_ of aggressor. He would so much have preferred to be the aggrieved.

"Yes, Railsford," said he, rising from his chair and standing over his enemy. "I dare you to say that you neither know nor suspect the person who a.s.saulted me!"

Railsford felt devoutly thankful he had kept his head. He now dug his hands into his pockets, stretched himself, and replied,--

"You may very safely do that, Bickers."

It was hard lines for poor Bickers, this. He had worked so hard to get himself an adversary; and here was all his labour being lost!

"You're paltering," snarled he. "I dare you to say you did not do the cowardly deed yourself!"

Railsford could not imagine how he had ever been so foolish as to be in a rage with the fellow. He laughed outright at the last piece of bl.u.s.ter. Bickers was now fairly beside himself, or he would never have done what he did. He struck Railsford where he sat a blow on the mouth, which brought blood to his lips. This surely was the last card, and Railsford in after years never knew exactly how it came about that he did not fly there and then at his enemy's throat, and shake him as a big dog shakes a rat. It may have been he was too much astonished to do anything of the sort; or it may have been that he, the stronger man of the two, felt a sort of pity for the poor bully, which kept him back.

At any rate, his good genius befriended him this time, and saved him both his dignity and his moral vantage. He put his handkerchief to his lips for a moment, and then said quietly--

"There are two ways of leaving this room, Bickers: the door and the window. I advise you to choose the door."

Mr Bickers was too cowed by his own act to keep up the contest, and hating himself at that moment almost as much--but not quite--as he hated his enemy, he slunk out of the door and departed to his own house.

Railsford sat where he was, and stared at the door by which his visitor had left, in a state of bewildered astonishment.

The more Railsford thought the matter over, the less he liked it. For it convinced him that there was someone desirous of doing him an injury by means of the very master who was already predisposed to believe evil of him. It was rather a damper after the glorious result of the sports, and Railsford tried to laugh it off and dismiss the whole matter from his mind.

"At least," said he to himself, "if the accusation comes in no more likely a form than I have seen to-night, I can afford to disregard it.

But though Bickers made a fool of himself for once in a way, it does not at all follow that he will not return to the attack, and that I may actually have to answer to Grandcourt the charges of that precious letter. It's too absurd, really!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE TESTIMONIAL.