rate, that, as I have you on the hook, I can’t help playing you a little.”
“Oh!” snarled Glyddyr furiously.
“But, all the same, I am the best friend you have in the world.”
“It’s a lie!”
“Is it? Well, we shall see. I want you to marry King Gartram’s daughter, and I’ll let you have all you want to carry it out. And by the way, here are three letters for you.”
He took the letters out of his pocket-book, and handed them.
“There you are: Parry Glyddyr, Esq, care of Reuben Gellow, Esq, 209 Cecil Street, Strand.”
“Why, they’ve been opened!”
“Yes, all three – and read.”
“You scoundrel!” roared Glyddyr. “Do you dare to sit there and tell me that you have had the effrontery to open my letters and read them?”
“I didn’t tell you so.”
“But you have read them?”
“Every line.”
“Look here, sir,” cried Glyddyr, rising fiercely, “I found it necessary to have my letters sent to an agent.”
“Reuben Gellow.”
“To be forwarded to me where I might be yachting.”
“So as to throw your creditors off the scent.”
“And you, acting as my agent, have read them.”
“In your interest, dear boy.”
“Curse you! I don’t care what happens now. All is at an end between us, you miserable – ”
“Go it, old fellow, if it does you good; but I didn’t open the letters.”
“Then who did?”
“Denise.”
Glyddyr’s jaw dropped.
“Now, then, you volcanic eruption of a man; who’s your friend, eh? I went down to the office yesterday morning. ‘Lady waiting in your room, sir,’ says my clerk. ‘Who is it?’ says I. ‘Wouldn’t give her name,’ says my clerk. ‘Wants money then,’ says I to myself; and goes up, and there was Madame Denise just finishing reading number three.”
“Good heavens!” muttered Glyddyr, blankly.
“‘I came, sare,’ she says, with one of her pretty, mocking laughs, ‘to ask you for ze address of my hosband, but you are absent, it ees no mattair. I find tree of my hosband’s lettaires, and one say he sup-poz my hosband go to Danmout. Dat is all.’”
“Then she’ll find me out, and come down here and spoil all.”
“Divil a doubt of it, me boy, as Paddy says.”
“But you – you left the letters lying about.”
“Not I. They came by the morning’s post. How the deuce could I tell that she would hunt me up, and then open her ‘hosband’s’ letters.”
“I am not her husband;” cried Glyddyr furiously. “That confounded French marriage does not count.”
“That’s what you’ve got to make her believe, my dear boy.”
“And if it did, I’d sooner smother myself than live with the wretched harpy.”
“Yes; I should say she had a temper Glyddyr. So under the circumstances, dear boy, I thought the best thing I could do was to come down fast as I could and put you on your guard.”
“My dear Gellow.”
“Come, that’s better. Then we are brothers once again,” cried Gellow, with mock melodramatic fervour.
“Curse the woman!”
“Better still; much better than cursing me.”
“Don’t fool, man. Can’t you see that this will be perfect destruction?”
“Quite so, dear boy; and now that this inner man is refreshed with food, so kindly and courteously supplied by you, he is quite ready for action. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Think she will come down?”
“Think? No, I don’t. Ah, Parry Glyddyr, what a pity it is you have been such a wicked young man!”
“Do you want to drive me mad with your foolery?”
“No; only to act. There, don’t make a fuss about it. The first thing is to throw her off the scent. She knows you may be here.”
“Yes.”
“Well, she’ll come down and inquire for you. She is not obliged to know about the people at the Fort; your yacht put in here for victualling or repairs.”
“Well?”
“When she comes, she finds you have sailed, and if we are lucky she will feel that she has missed you, and go back.”
“If she would only die!” muttered Glyddyr, but his visitor caught his words.
“Not likely to. Sort of woman with stuff enough in her to last to a hundred. It strikes me, dear boy, that you are in a fix.”
Glyddyr sat frowning.
“And now you see the value of a friend.”
“Yes,” said Glyddyr thoughtfully. “I must go.”
“And you must take me too. If she sees me, she will smell a rat.”
“Yes, confound you, and one of the worst sort. There, ring that bell.”
“What for – brandy? Plenty here.”
“No, man, for the bill; I must be off at once.”
Volume One – Chapter Eleven.
How to Reach the Fair Star
As Burns said, matters go very awkwardly sometimes for those who plot and plan – as if some malicious genius took delight in thwarting the most carefully-laid designs, and tangling matters up, till the undoing seems hopeless.
Chris Lisle had had a bad time mentally. He was wroth against Gartram and Glyddyr, and far more wroth with himself for letting his anger get the better of him.
“It was as if I had made up my mind to fight against my own interests, for I could not have done that man a greater service than to strike him.”
“That’s it, sure enough,” he said. “This good-looking yachting dandy is the man, and it was enough to make poor Claudie think me a violent ruffian, upon whom she must never look again. But I will not give her up. I’d sooner die; and, bless her, she will never allow herself to be forced into
