Mr. Markham’s eyes glistened. It was an attractive picture, and he could not resist dwelling on it for a space. “You seem to know a devilish lot about the Graysons,” he remarked.
“I do, my friend, as you shall see. I know she becomes mistress of a charming fortune on the day she marries, with or without Sir Humphrey’s consent. You must be master of it. I am determined on it.”
“But how?” demanded Mr. Markham.
My lord arose, and went to where a locked desk stood. Mr. Markham watched him open it, and saw him take a bundle of papers from a hidden drawer, and select one from the bundle. My lord came back with it in his hand, and spread it for his visitor to read. A smile of simple triumph illumined his countenance.
Mr. Markham read with knit brows. It was a letter from Sir Humphrey to a man Markham did not know. It was vague in tenor, but there were references to the “Prince,” and a half promise to render assistance in the “venture to be attempted,” if the Prince would come without foreign aid into England. Mr. Markham sniffed. “The old dog!” he said. “That wouldn’t send him to Tyburn. He’s a friend of Bute’s. He never lifted a finger in the Rising, and they’d never touch him.”
“But would the little Letty see that with the same quickness, my friend? Your brain leaps to it, true, but do you rate her intelligence as high as yours? I cannot allow it to be so.”
A dim scheme began to form itself in Mr. Markham’s brain. “I’ll take it,” he said suddenly.
“You shall, dear sir. And I will take that letter you keep in your cunning pocket. It’s all so delightfully simple.”
“That won’t quite do, I’m afraid,” said Mr. Markham. “I want more for it than that. I’ll see the colour of your money, my lord.”
My lord folded the paper. He was still smiling. “It would disappoint you, my friend. It is just the same colour as everyone else’s. And you never will see it.”
“I shan’t, eh? You prefer me to take my letter to Rensley?”
“Infinitely,” said my lord. “You won’t see the colour of his money either. You must look ahead, my friend; you must look far, and consider the situation well. You have not thought on it deeply enough. I am not Lord Barham yet. You have your doubts of me; you are a very clever man, Mr. Markham; I felicitate you. I am not going to tell you whether my claim is true or not. There is not, perhaps, the need. You seem to understand me so well, my dear sir. Now, you want a large sum for your letter. You realize, of course, that unless my claim is just, I can have nothing approaching it. All I have lies in the letter I hold, and I offer it to you. I can give no more.”
This speech of my lord’s had an uncomfortable effect on Mr. Markham. My lord appeared to admit an imposture, which was not now at all what Mr. Markham wanted to have proved. He looked warily, but decided to ignore the hint. “You can give me a written promise, my lord. You haven’t thought of that, have you?”
“I have not. You always contrive to understand me. It is a delight to me, for so few people do! I have a great objection to parting with my money; I do positively abhor the very thought of it. Rather than contemplate it I would relinquish my claim, and vanish!”
Mr. Markham’s expression changed. “What?”
“Yes, my friend, yes. You understand me yet again. Refuse my offer; take your letter to Rensley—What happens?”
Mr. Markham was looking at him with a fascinated eye. “Well, what does happen?” he asked.
“Why, only that I am as though I had never been. There will no longer be a rival claimant to the estates. I shall have gone, and Rensley will be Viscount Barham without need of letters, or of any assistance whatsoever. You see, you must think ahead, Mr. Markham; you must visualize possibilities.”
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
