got no further. There was the sound of voices in the corridor outside, the door was flung open, and Tresidder, his butler, entered, but not in his usual decorous fashion. He was being pushed in backwards by, of all people, young Allinson. He was not only shouting in Tresidder’s face but was also threatening him with a pistol.
‘M’lord,’ gasped Tresidder, made voluble by fright, ‘I dare not stop him. He insisted on seeing you, even when I told him that you had given orders not to be disturbed, and then he pulled out a pistol and threatened me with it if I did not do as he wished.’
‘Quite right,’ raved Allinson, releasing him. ‘And now I am here, you may go.’ He waved his pistol at Devenish who had risen, had walked round his desk and was advancing on him.
‘Tell him to leave us, damn you, Devenish. My quarrel is with you, not with him. And if you come a step further I’ll shoot you.’
Devenish retreated and leaned back against the desk, his arms folded, the picture of undisturbed indolence.
‘Yes, do leave us, Tresidder,’ he drawled. ‘I am sure that you have no wish to take part in this unseemly farce which Allinson thinks is a tragedy! Really, you young fool, you should be writing this fustian for Drury Lane, not trying to live it!’
‘Damn you, Devenish,’ shrieked Allinson, waving the pistol dangerously about. ‘First you ruin me, and then you mock me. I came here to make you give me back my IOUs, but I’ve a mind to kill you out of hand if you don’t mend your manners to me! You’ve ruined me, so I’ve nothing to lose.’
If he had thought to frighten the man before him by threatening his life, he was much mistaken. However dangerous the situation in which he found himself, Devenish was determined not to allow the young fool to intimidate him.
‘Oh, I might take you seriously, Allinson, if you were prepared to admit that you ruined yourself. Do stop waving that firearm about. Did no one ever teach you that it’s bad form to point a loaded pistol at people? I suppose it is loaded—or did you forget before you embarked on these histrionics?’
Devenish’s insults set Allinson choking with rage. He recovered himself with difficulty and ground out, ‘Of course it’s loaded—something you’d do well to remember. So, do as I ask, hand over my IOUs and I’ll not shoot you, although it’s all you deserve—’
‘Oh, very well. Anything to oblige a man who’s threatening my life. I’ve no desire to bleed to death on my best Persian carpet. It came from Constantinople, you know. It’s supposed to be nearly five hundred years old. My heir—God knows who he might be, I’ve never taken the trouble to find out—wouldn’t like it to be ruined,’ Devenish remarked chattily, making no move to do as he was bid. ‘It’s one of the house’s greatest treasures, you know.’
His frivolity nearly had Allinson gibbering. ‘Stow that nonsense at once, and give me my IOUs. I mean it.’
Still waving his pistol about, he advanced on his enemy until they were almost face to face.
Devenish said with a weary smile, which merely served to enrage Allinson the more, ‘Bound and determined to swing for me, are you?’
To which Allinson made no answer: only bared his teeth at him, and waved the pistol about threateningly.
‘Oh, very well,’ Devenish drawled, ‘I see that I shall have to oblige you. Needs must—if only to save the carpet.’
He slowly turned toward his desk as if to pick up the IOUs lying there. And then, like lightning—or a snake striking—he swung round with the heavy glass paperweight he had snatched up in his hand, and struck Allinson full in the face with it before his tormentor could grasp what he was doing.
Startled, and letting out a shriek of pain as he threw his arms up in an instinctive gesture to ward off what had already hit him, young Allinson’s finger tightened on the trigger so that he fired his pistol into the air.
The ball made a neat hole in the face of a bad portrait of the Third Earl which had been hung considerately high.
Between fright and pain Allinson dropped the pistol before falling to his knees, and protecting his damaged face by clasping his hands over it; blood was running from his nose.
Devenish picked up the pistol and laid it carefully on his desk before pulling him roughly to his feet.
‘You incompetent young fool,’ he said, still chatty. ‘You are as inconsiderate as I might have expected. I don’t object to you ruining a damned bad painting, but I don’t want your blood all over the carpet. Here.’
He handed the moaning boy a spotless handkerchief, just as the library door burst open and a posse of footmen entered led by his chief groom, Jowett.
‘A bit slow, lads, weren’t you?’ was his only remark. ‘I might have been cat’s meat by now.’
Jowett, who knew his master, grinned, and said, ‘But you ain’t, m’lord, are you, so all’s well. That ass, Tresidder, beggin’ your pardon, m’lord, was so frightened out of his wits it took some time for him to tell us what was to-do. I see you’ve got things well in hand, as per usual. Send for the Runners to deal with him, shall I?’
‘By no means. A mad doctor to treat him might be more useful. On the other hand, I think you can safely leave this matter to me to clear up. Let me think. Hmm, ah, yes, Mr Allinson discharged his pistol whilst inviting me to admire it. Why call the Runners in for that? Crime, not incompetence, is their game, eh, Allinson?’
‘If you say so, m’lord,’ came in a muffled wail through Devenish’s ruined handkerchief.
‘Oh, I do say so, and more beside when my belated saviours depart. You may go, Jowett. Oh, and take the pistol you will find on my desk with you. I don’t think that Mr Allinson will be needing it again. It’s quite safe. It’s not loaded now.’
‘I know, m’lord.’ Jowett was cheerful. ‘I heard the shot just before we came in. Knowing you, I couldn’t believe that aught was amiss.’
‘Your faith in me is touching—and one day may be unjustified—but not today. Silly boys are fair game for a man of sense.’
Allinson raised his head. His nose had stopped bleeding. He said mournfully, ‘I suppose that you are right to mock me.’
‘No suppose at all. Had you succeeded in killing me, you would have met a nasty end on Tyburn Tree. Had you made me give you back your IOUs, you would have ended up a pariah, gambling debts being debts of honour. Think yourself lucky that all you have to show for your folly is a bloody nose.
‘And do stand up straight instead of cringing like a gaby. I’ve a mind to lecture you, and I want your full attention.’
‘You have it, m’lord. I must have run mad to do what I did. But to lose everything—you understand—’
‘Indeed, not. I am quite unable to understand that I should ever gamble away money which I didn’t possess and a house which I did. As for compounding my folly by threatening to commit murder! No, no, I don’t understand—and nor should you.’
Allinson hung his head. Whether coming to his senses had brought him repentance was hard to tell. He muttered, ‘And after all, I am still ruined. I cannot expect you to show me any mercy now
