Half A Chance Part 31

"You did not have any such paper at Strathorn."

"No?" John Steele smiled but he did not feel like smiling. "Not there certainly."

"I mean no such paper existed then, or you would have taken advantage of it."

John Steele did not answer; he looked at the drawer. The affidavit was not there; but something else was.

"You are resourceful, that is all."

Lord Ronsdale had now quite recovered himself; he sank back into his chair. "You have, out of fancy, constructed a libelous theory; one that you can not prove; one that you would be laughed at for advancing. A c.o.c.k-and-bull story about a witness who was not a witness; a paper that doesn't exist, that never existed."

A sound at the door caused him to turn sharply; a knocking had pa.s.sed unheeded. The door opened, closed. Mr. Gillett, a troubled, perturbed look on his face, stood now just within. "Your lords.h.i.+p!"

"Well?" the n.o.bleman's manner was peremptory.

The police agent, however, came forward slowly. "I have here something that one of our men has just turned over to me." John Steele started; but neither of the others noticed. "He found it at the last place we were; evidently it had been dropped by the fellow who was there and who fled at our coming." As he spoke, he stepped nearer the desk, in his hand a paper.

"What is it?" Lord Ronsdale demanded testily.

Mr. Gillett did not at once answer; he looked at John Steele; the latter stood like a statue; only his eyes were turned toward the n.o.bleman, to the thin aristocratic hand yet resting on the edge of the drawer.

"If your lords.h.i.+p will glance at it?" said Mr. Gillett, proffering the sheet.

The n.o.bleman did so; his face changed; his eyes seemed unable to leave the paper. Suddenly he gave a smothered explanation; tore the sheet once, and started up, took a step toward the fire.

"Stop!" The voice was John Steele's; he stood now next to the partly-opened drawer, in his hand that which had been concealed there, something bright, s.h.i.+ning. Lord Ronsdale wheeled, looked at the weapon and into the eyes behind it. "Place those two bits of paper there--on the edge of the desk!"

CHAPTER XXI

A CONDITION

Lord Ronsdale hesitated; his thin jaws were set so that the bones of the cheek showed; his eyes gleamed. When he did move it was as if blindly, precipitately, to carry out his first impulse.

"I wouldn't!" What John Steele held vaguely included, in the radius of its possibilities, Mr. Gillett. "Unless--"

"You wouldn't dare!" Lord Ronsdale trembled, but with impotent pa.s.sion, not fear. "It would be--"

"Self-defense! The paper would remain--full vindication. In fact the paper already is mine. Whether I kill you or not is merely incidental.

And to tell you the truth I don't much care how you decide!"

Again Lord Ronsdale seemed almost to forget caution; almost, but not quite; perhaps he was deterred by the look on John Steele's face, scornful, mocking, as half-inviting him to cast all prudence to the winds. This bit of evidence that he had not calculated upon, it was hard to give it up; but no other course remained. Besides, another, Gillett, knew of its existence; Lord Ronsdale felt he could not depend on that person in an emergency of this kind; the police agent's manner was not rea.s.suring. He seemed inclined to be more pa.s.sive than aggressive; perhaps he had been somewhat overcome by this unexpected revelation and the deep waters he who boasted of an "eminently respectable and reputable agency" had unwittingly drifted into; in climaxes of this character one's thoughts are likely to center on self, to the exclusion of patron or employer, however n.o.ble. The police agent looked at Ronsdale and waited to see what he would do.

The n.o.bleman moved toward the desk; the paper fluttered from his cold fingers; when once more John Steele b.u.t.toned his coat the affidavit had again found lodgment in his waistcoat pocket.

It seemed a tame, commonplace end; but it was the end; all three men knew it. John Steele's burning glance swept from Lord Ronsdale to Gillett; lingered with mute contemplation. What now remained to be done should be easily, it seemed almost too easily, accomplished. He felt like one lingering on the stage after the curtain had gone down; the varied excitement, the fierce play of emotion was over; the actors hardly appeared interesting.

What he said was for Lord Ronsdale alone; after Gillett had gone, he laid down a condition. In certain respects it was a moment of triumph; but he experienced no exultation, only a supreme weariness, an anxiety to be done with the affair, to go. But the one point had first to be made, emphasized; to be accepted by the other violently, quietly, resignedly,--John Steele did not care what his att.i.tude might be; what he chiefly felt was that he did not wish to waste much time on him.

"And if I refuse to let you dictate in a purely private concern?" Lord Ronsdale, white with pa.s.sion, had answered.

"The end will be the same for you. As matters stand, Sir Charles no doubt thinks still that you would make a desirable _parti_ for his niece. His wife, Lady Wray, unquestionably shares that opinion. Their combined influence might in time prevail, and Jocelyn Wray yield to their united wishes. This misfortune," with cutting deadliness of tone, "it is obvious must be averted. You will consent to withdraw all pretensions in that direction, or you will force me to make public this paper. A full exposition of the case I think would materially affect Sir Charles and Lady Wray's att.i.tude as to the desirability of an alliance between their family and yours."

"And yourself? You forget," with a sneer, "how it would affect you!"

"Myself!" John Steele laughed. "You fool! Do you imagine I would hesitate for that reason?"

The n.o.bleman looked at him, at the glowing, contemptuous eyes.

"Hesitate? Perhaps not! You love her yourself, and--"

John Steele stepped toward him. "Stop, or--I have once been almost on the point of killing you to-night--don't--" he broke off. "The condition? You consent or not?"

"And if I--? You would--?"

"Keep your cowardly secret? Yes!"

To this the other had replied; of necessity the scene had dragged along a little farther; then John Steele found himself on the stairway, going down.

It was over, this long, stubborn contest; he hardly heard or saw a cab drive up and stop before the house as he went out to the street, was scarcely conscious of some one leaving it, some one about to enter who suddenly stopped at sight of him and exclaimed eagerly, warmly. He was not surprised; with apathy he listened to the new-comer's words; rambling, disconnected, about a letter that had intercepted him at Brighton and brought him post-haste to London.

A letter? John Steele had entered the cab; he sank back; when had he written a letter? Weeks ago; he looked at this face, familiar, far-off; the fog was again rising around him. He could hardly see; he was glad he did not have to stir; he seemed to breathe with difficulty.

"Where--are we going?"

"To Rosemary Villa."

"I--should prefer--my own chambers"--John Steele spoke with an effort--"it is nearer--and I'm a bit done up. Besides, after a little rest, there are--some business matters--to be attended to--that will need looking after as soon as--"

His head fell forward; Captain Forsythe looked at him; called up loudly, excitedly to the driver.

CHAPTER XXII

NEAR THE RIVER

A dubious sort of day, one that seemed vainly trying to appear cheerful!

A day that threw out half-promises, that showed tentatively on the sky a mottled blur where the sun should have been! On such a day, a month after that night in Lord Ronsdale's rooms, Captain Forsythe, calling on John Steele, found himself admitted to the sitting-room. While waiting for an answer to his request to see Mr. Steele, he gazed disapprovingly around him. The rooms were partly dismantled; a number of boxes littering the place indicating preparations to move. Captain Forsythe surveyed these cases, more or less filled; then he shook his head and lighted a cigar. But as he smoked he seemed asking himself a question; he had not yet found the answer when a footstep was heard and the subject of his ruminations entered the room. John Steele's face was paler than it had been; thinner, like that of a man who had recently suffered some severe illness.