The Masqueraders · Chapter 20 (2/2)

It was quite evident that Mr. Markham was visualizing this particular possibility. “You wouldn’t do it,” he said.

“But of course I should! I am not a fool, my dear Markham. I do not say that I have your brain, but still I am not a fool. If you walk out of this room with the paper still in that pocket of yours⁠—you must show me how that is contrived⁠—what can I do but fly the country? I am in the hollow of your hand, as you so aptly phrased it.”

Mr. Markham began to entertain doubts of the truth of this. It had certainly seemed true enough at the outset, but things were taking an unfortunate turn. “I know very well you don’t mean to give up your claim. You’ll pay, safe enough!”

“Still you follow me,” admired my lord. “I have an ardent wish to pursue my claim, and certainly I will pay. But within reason, my dear Markham, within reason! I give you my paper, and⁠—unless you are a man of very clumsy address, which I will not, nay, cannot believe⁠—you are bound to prevail with Miss Letty. You become thus the master of the fortune you require, and I am rid of a menace. That talk of written promises⁠—no, no, my dear sir, it’s not worthy of you! I, who am not even sure yet of the success of my claim, am to purchase your paper from you at the cost of fresh documentary evidence? You cannot, I beg you will not believe me to be so big a fool! Credit me with a preference for a free gamester’s life to a bound Viscount’s.” He ended on a little laugh. His arresting eyes were glowing with a light of triumph.

There fell a silence. Bit by bit the force of my lord’s argument sank deep into Markham’s brain. He cursed himself for not having taken his paper to Rensley, and made sure of a snug ten thousand pounds. He began to see that he had snatched at a shadow. His glance fell on the paper that my lord held between his thin fingers. Involuntarily he started to form plans for its use. Certainly it had some value. Miss Letty would not be hard to terrify with threats; he could find the opportunity. She was worth more than ten thousand pounds, to be sure, if the scheme worked.

He pondered moodily, and realized that the letter and the chance it held was all that he could now hope to gain out of the affair. He began to arrive at the discovery that somehow or other it was he who seemed to be in the hollow of my lord’s hand. “You’re a damned trickster!” he said.

“You pain me,” my lord said reproachfully.

Mr. Markham relapsed into silence. If he did snare Letty⁠—Gad, she was a dainty piece!⁠—there might still be something to be got out of my lord. Even a verbal accusation could be unpleasant and might lead to disaster. He reflected that if he had Letty he would no longer be in need of large monetary assistance. Still, it would be useful to hold that weapon; to feel it to be within his power to squeeze my Lord Barham⁠—if this smiling man were indeed Tremaine, though it now seemed doubtful. He perceived that his lordship had omitted to follow his own advice of looking far ahead, and smiled inwardly. He would take that letter in exchange for the one he held, and if he got Letty⁠—well, he would be fairly satisfied, for after all, he wanted her, had always wanted her, even apart from her fortune. If he failed, if she would not be frightened by a threat to expose her father, then my lord would find he had not bought his dear friend’s tongue, though he might have bought his letter. “I’ll take it!” he announced.

“You are always so wise,” said my lord. “It is a pleasure to have to do with you, sir.”

The exchange was effected. Mr. Markham refused an offer of more claret brusquely, and strode off in the wake of my lord’s man.

My lord remained standing by the table, one hand resting lightly upon it, and the smile curling his lips. He heard the front door shut behind Mr. Markham, and he listened to the heavy footsteps growing fainter and fainter in the distance. He raised his head then, and laughed softly to himself, in exquisite enjoyment. His man, returning to clear away the wine and the glasses, looked at him in some surprise.

“Henry,” said my lord. “You are fortunate. You serve a master of infinite resource.”

“Yes, sir,” said Henry stolidly.

My lord looked at him, but it is doubtful whether he saw him. His gaze seemed to go beyond. “I am a great man,” he said. “Oh, but I am a very great man!”

“Yes, my lord,” said Henry.