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.
XXI
Proceedings of Mr. Markham
The element of uncertainty made the prize not quite all Mr. Markham had hoped for, but since it was all he had been able to get, he determined to make the most of it. An evening spent in plan-making restored him to satisfaction and good humour. He thought he saw his way clear. No thought of the light in which his conduct might possibly be regarded crossed his mind. Probably he held to the maxim that all was fair in love and war. Certainly no reflection of Miss Grayson’s feelings in the matter troubled his head, or abated one jot of his new cheerfulness. If he thought about the affair from her side at all, he considered that she would very soon settle down to the married state, especially since she had, not so long ago, fancied herself in love with him. This time there would be no Merriots to interfere in what was no concern of theirs; he would not even take the risk of alighting for so much as a bite of supper, until well out of reach of London, but speed on towards Scotland with no more stops than the changes of horses would necessitate.
Had Mr. Markham heard my Lord Barham’s laugh, he might not have felt quite so sanguine; and had he heard my lord giving sundry instructions to a respectable middle-aged servant he might have entertained serious doubts as to my lord’s good faith. My lord said quite a lot to this man on the subject of coaching stages, and at the close of that interview the unresponsive servant had orders to keep an eye not only on the movements of Miss Grayson, but also to discover what horses were ordered at the first stage on the North Road, for what date, and by what gentlemen. The servant received these instructions impassively, and seemed to foresee no difficulties ahead of him. The truth was that he had performed far harder tasks for my Lord Barham. It would not have appeared from his demeanour that he either understood or approved his orders, but he had nothing to say beyond a resigned: “This is more of your devilry I suppose, my lord.”
Far from resenting this familiar form of address, my lord was flattered, and admitted the impeachment, adding a rider to the effect that it was a positive masterpiece of subtlety, whereupon the servant grunted, and went off.
But Mr. Markham had no knowledge of this transaction, and he had no suspicion of foul play. All the foul play in the business was to be performed by himself, though it is doubtful whether he phrased it quite so candidly.
He foresaw few obstacles: this time there should be no hitch. The only difficulty, and that a small one, was to gain a hearing with Miss Grayson, and a little careful espionage soon disclosed an opportunity. Miss Grayson was to be present at
