old home has passed into the possession of strangers and I am never likely to see it again. I shall be obliged if you will touch that topic as lightly as possible.”
“My dear Jasper, it is absolutely necessary to mention the past. I want you to recall the time when you fondly imagined yourself cut out for the role of a county gentleman. You were going to marry and settle down, when your father died. I daresay you would have done so, only unfortunately you fell into bad company and your weak disposition answered for the rest. You forgot the little girl to whom you had given your heart, and, no doubt, in time she forgot you. But she was only a child at the time, and youth speedily recovers from that kind of thing. Need I remind you of the fact that I am speaking of your old sweetheart, Lena Grey?”
Cleave smiled lightly, as one who recollects tolerantly the days of early folly.
“I have not thought of her for years,” he said. “She was but a child then, certainly not more than seventeen, though I believe she had the bad taste to be very fond of me. She also had an exceedingly narrow escape. But that is all by the way. It is a most extraordinary thing, Nellie, that you should have mentioned Lena’s name. I passed her to-night; nearly ran into her, in fact. I did collide with her companion, whom I recognised as Philip Hardy. What a conceited prig he used to be! I never used to see him without wanting to kick him. I hated that fellow.”
A peculiar smile passed over the listener’s face and her cheeks flushed slightly, but Cleave noticed nothing of this.
“Philip Hardy is by way of being a great man now,” she said. “He is one of the spoilt children of fortune. It is certain that he has lately inherited a huge fortune. To be perfectly candid with you, my dear Jasper, I am exceedingly fond of Philip Hardy. Up to a short time ago, I felt pretty well certain that I was going to be asked to share his distinguished career. Not that I care much for the career as long as I share the fortune. By a piece of ill-luck Lena Grey stepped in, and I understand their engagement will be announced to-morrow. This brings me to the point. You know my disposition, Jasper; you know how I can smile and smile when my heart is full of fury. I could kill that little pink-and-white doll; I could take her throat in my hands and squeeze the life out of her without remorse. It matters nothing that she has come between me and my ambition unwittingly; she is there, and she will have to be removed by fair means or foul. It maddens me when I think of it. Here I had the ball at my feet, and was on the verge of a marriage with a rich man, who can have a title whenever he wants it. In two years I should have been one of the recognised queens of Society. Nothing could have stopped me. Nothing could have barred my progress. If that little white cat had only kept out of the way for another two days my ambition would have been crowned. She must go, Jasper; she must be wiped out of existence. And you are the very man to help me to do it. Do you understand?”
The speaker had risen to her feet now and was pacing up and down the room, a picture of beautiful subdued fury. Cleave could see her eyes flashing like points of flame; he saw how the slim hands were clenched together; there was a deep intentness, too, in the tone of the woman’s voice which told of her iron determination. She paused in her restless stride presently and laid a shaking hand on Cleave’s shoulder. The strength and tenacity of the clutch fairly astonished him.
“I don’t want murder,” she hissed; “that kind of thing is so cheap—and dangerous. I have a far better scheme than that. If you will only listen to me, the part you have to play is no difficult one; you only want audacity and ability to lie with a perfectly solemn countenance. Now, tell me, in those days when you were going to play the part of the model squire with the little doll by your side, did no letters pass between you?”
“I have no doubt they did,” Cleave confessed. “Though I have not the remotest idea where they are. Probably I destroyed them.”
“Indeed, you didn’t,” the woman laughed. “I found them in one of your boxes, and they gave me a hint as to what I could do. Now sit down, and listen to my scheme, and don’t forget that there are five hundred pounds for you if you are successful.”
“Go on,” Cleave said hoarsely. “For a sum like that I would not stop at murder.”
VII. — PANGS OF CONSCIENCE
IF outward appearances counted for anything, Eleanor Marsh had every reason to be satisfied with her present surroundings. From the long, luxurious chair in which she was reclining, she could have looked, had it been daylight, over one of the fairest expanses of country in the south of England. The view from Court Royal extended away south from Reigate almost to the Channel. Indeed, out of all the many estates owned by the Duke of Daventry, Court Royal was easily the favourite with his beautiful Duchess.
A distinguished house-party had gathered in the historical mansion, ostensibly to enjoy a series of week-end festivities, which embraced a night fête in the gardens, but really the exclusive function was devised on behalf of Philip Hardy. Like most modem Society leaders, the Duchess took the keenest interest in rich young men. Philip Hardy was a great favourite of hers, and she had determined to push him by every means in her power.
To this aristocratic gathering Eleanor Marsh had contrived to be invited. She had done more than that, for she had also managed to obtain a card for Jasper Cleave, whom she had skilfully planted on some friends of hers living in the immediate neighbourhood.
The woman’s plans were all completely laid, and she had a willing and obliging tool in the man by her side. Yet, at the same time, there was a frown on Cleave’s face and a shrinking look in his eyes, as if he dreaded the task which lay before him.
The brilliant dinner party had been over for some little time, and there was a lull before the arrival of the numerous guests who were bidden to the subsequent reception. As the saffron light of evening faded to a dim, mystic purple, points of flame peeped out here and there in the grounds, till presently the gardens and lawns were one blaze of electric light. From a distant spot came the sound of a band softly playing.
“Well, I suppose you are satisfied now?” Eleanor Marsh said, as she turned to her companion. “Rather a different lot yours now compared with a month ago.”
Cleave shrugged his shoulders with assumed indifference. Certainly he looked very different to the tattered outcast who had been hanging about Courtville Square only the other day. Even an astute observer would have failed to detect any difference between Cleave and the ordinary well-groomed Society man. His tone was anything but grateful as he replied.
“Oh, that’s right enough,” he said. “But what does it lead to? It’s true that I have to thank you for a good deal, but I am very little the better off; of course, I have a wardrobe and a roof over my head; but frankly, my dear Nell, living on borrowed fivers of yours is not altogether to my taste. Besides my position here is a little bit invidious. It was all very well till Hardy and Lena Grey arrived this afternoon, but ever since then I have been dodging about keeping out of their way.”
“And why should you keep out of their way?” Eleanor asked scornfully. “What is there to be afraid of?”
“You don’t know Hardy as well as you profess to,” replied Cleave. “And you quite forget the fact that I knew him years ago. He is acquainted with my past, except possibly the little episode between myself and Lena Grey. Your would-be lover is a pretty hard man, like most strictly virtuous people, and if he recognised me here this evening, I should have to beat an ignominious retreat. If I refused to do so, he would most assuredly acquaint the Duchess with some of my purple patches, and then you would have to work this little thing on
