XXIV
The Russian Spy
When the baby died at Clavering Park, somebody hinted that Sir Hugh would certainly quarrel with his brother as soon as Archie should become the father of a presumptive heir to the title and property. That such would be the case those who best knew Sir Hugh would not doubt. That Archie should have that of which he himself had been robbed, would of itself be enough to make him hate Archie. But, nevertheless, at this present time, he continued to instigate his brother in that matter of the proposed marriage with Lady Ongar. Hugh, as well as others, felt that Archie’s prospects were now improved, and that he could demand the hand of a wealthy lady with more of seeming propriety than would have belonged to such a proposition while the poor child was living. No one would understand this better than Lady Ongar, who knew so well all the circumstances of the family. The day after the funeral the two brothers returned to London together, and Hugh spoke his mind in the railway carriage. “It will be no good for you to hang on about Bolton Street, off and on, as though she were a girl of seventeen,” he said.
“I’m quite up to that,” said Archie. “I must let her know I’m there of course. I understand all that.”
“Then why don’t you do it? I thought you meant to go to her at once when we were talking about it before in London.”
“So I did go to her, and got on with her very well, too, considering that I hadn’t been there long when another woman came in.”
“But you didn’t tell her what you had come about?”
“No; not exactly. You see it doesn’t do to pop at once to a widow like her. Ongar, you know, hasn’t been dead six months. One has to be a little delicate in these things.”
“Believe me, Archie, you had better give up all notions of being delicate, and tell her what you want at once—plainly and fairly. You may be sure that she will not think of her former husband, if you don’t.”
“Oh! I don’t think about him at all.”
“Who was the woman you say was there?”
“That little Frenchwoman—the sister of the man;—Sophie she calls her. Sophie Gordeloup is her name. They are bosom friends.”
“The sister of that count?”
“Yes; his sister. Such a woman for talking! She said ever so much about your keeping Hermione down in the country.”
“The devil she did. What business was that of hers? That is Julia’s doing.”
“Well; no, I don’t think so. Julia didn’t say a word about it. In fact, I don’t know how it came up. But you never heard such a woman to talk—an ugly, old, hideous little creature! But the two are always together.”
“If you don’t take care you’ll find that Julia is married to the count while you are thinking about it.”
Then Archie began to consider whether he might not as well tell his brother of his present scheme with reference to Julia. Having discussed the matter at great length with his confidential friend, Captain Boodle, he had come to the conclusion that his safest course would be to bribe Madame Gordeloup, and creep into Julia’s favour by that lady’s aid. Now, on his return to London, he was about at once to play that game, and had already provided himself with funds for the purpose. The parting with ready money was a grievous thing to Archie, though in this case the misery would be somewhat palliated by the feeling that it was a bona fide sporting transaction. He would be lessening the odds against himself by a judicious hedging of his bets. “You must stand to lose something always by the horse you mean to win,” Doodles had said to him, and Archie had recognized the propriety of the remark. He had, therefore, with some difficulty, provided himself with funds, and was prepared to set about his hedging operations as soon as he could find Madame Gordeloup on his return to London. He had already ascertained her address through Doodles, and had ascertained by the unparalleled acuteness of his friend that the lady was—a Russian spy. It would have been beautiful to have seen Archie’s face when this information was whispered into his ear, in private, at the club. It was as though he had then been made acquainted with some great turf secret, unknown to the sporting world in general.
“Ah!” he said, drawing a long breath, “no;—by George, is she?”
The same story had been told everywhere in London of the little woman for the last half dozen years, whether truly or untruly I am not prepared to say; but it had not hitherto reached Archie Clavering; and now, on hearing it, he felt that he was becoming a participator in the deepest diplomatic secrets of Europe.
“By George,” said he, “is she really?”
And his respect for the little woman rose a thousand percent.
“That’s what she is,” said Doodles, “and it’s a doosed fine thing for you, you know! Of course you can make her safe, and that will be everything.”
Archie resolved at once that he would use the great advantage which chance and the ingenuity of his friend had thrown in his way; but that necessity of putting money in his purse was a sore grievance to him, and it occurred to him that it would be a grand thing if he could induce his brother to help him in this special matter. If he could only make Hugh see the immense advantage of an alliance with the Russian spy, Hugh could hardly avoid contributing to the expense—of course on the understanding that all such moneys were to be repaid when the Russian spy’s work had been brought to a successful result. Russian spy! There was in
