Chapter 7

LADY CORSOON'S APPEAL.

Since the tragic death of Dimsdale, Vernon had seen very little of Maunders. Certainly--since even London is parochial in bringing the same people in the same set constantly together--he had met him casually at the houses of mutual acquaintances, but beyond a few careless words, nothing had passed between them. It seemed as though Maunders, after deciding to leave the partnership with Nemo in abeyance, had drifted knowingly apart from his old schoolfellow. Vernon did not care much, as he mistrusted a man who was willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to his greed for pleasure.

Maunders reminded Vernon in many ways of Lucien de Rubempr� in "Lost Illusions." Egotism was the keynote of the real person as of the fictitious; but where Balzac's hero drifted weakly with the tide, Maunders struck out against it for a landing of his own choosing. As Lucien was drawn, handsome, clever, and unscrupulous, so was Maunders in actual life, and an insatiable love of pleasure was common to both. Overindulgence might well wreck Mrs. Bedge's darling, as it had wrecked the lover of Madame de Bargeton.

It was the conversation with Colonel Towton which sent Vernon in quest of the man whom he would otherwise have avoided like poison. He wished to learn clearly the attitude of Maunders with regard to the two ladies he was so audaciously wooing. Much as the man loved Lucy Corsoon--and Maunders' love in this quarter really seemed to be the most honest part of him--he loved himself more; and it seemed incredible to Vernon that so egotistic a person would risk losing the world of pleasure for a genuine passion. Sir Julius Corsoon was wealthy and Lucy was an heiress, but if she married Maunders, who was no favourite with the baronet, her father would probably cut her off with the proverbial shilling. It really seemed wiser for Maunders to stick to Ida and the ten thousand a year of which she was sole mistress. But then, if Ida had truly overcome her infatuation, Maunders had little chance of success in that quarter. A desire to learn the true state of affairs brought Vernon to Maunders' chambers in Planet Street, Piccadilly, at eleven o'clock in the morning, two or three days after that enlightening conversation with Colonel Towton.

Vernon naturally expected to find the sybarite housed like Solomon-in-all-his-glory, and he was not disappointed. The rooms were beautifully decorated and sumptuously furnished. No expense had been spared to make them worthy of this fastidious young gentleman, who was only content with the very best which civilisation could afford. He received his friend in a delightful Pompadour apartment, airy and bright, and gracefully frivolous. Recalling the sombre, shabby house at Hampstead, and Mrs. Bedge's revelations regarding a diminishing income which made her anxious to seek at her age the post of a paid companion, Vernon could not think how Maunders managed to provide himself with such gorgeous surroundings. He had no settled income, and, like the lilies of the field, he neither toiled nor spun. But he welcomed Vernon in a maroon-coloured velvet smoking-suit which must have cost a considerable sum in Bond Street, and asked him to partake of a delightfully tempting breakfast, set out with all the delicacies of the season.

"Though, I daresay," said the handsome scamp in his languid, insolent manner, "that you breakfasted at cock-crow. You were always aggressively virtuous."

"I certainly have been up some hours," replied Vernon coldly. "While you eat I can smoke, with your permission." He sat down and lighted a cigarette carefully. "I have called to see you----"

"An unexpected pleasure," murmured Maunders, pouring himself out a second cup of coffee. "Yes?"

"To ask you if you are engaged to Miss Dimsdale," finished Vernon pointedly.

"Perhaps I am."

"In that case you will have given up all pursuit of Miss Corsoon?"

"Perhaps I have."

"Oh, hang your evasions. What do you mean?"

"I don't recognise your right to ask me questions about my affairs."

"They are mine also, confound you," snapped Vernon energetically. "I love Miss Corsoon, and if you would leave her alone she would probably accept me."

"What good would that do?" asked Maunders lightly; "Her mother wouldn't."

"Would Lady Corsoon accept _you?_ After all, you have nothing but your good looks to offer the girl."

"Ah, but the girl has a fortune to offer me."

"You aren't worth it. And let me remind you that however much Miss Corsoon may be taken up with your looks, her mother will certainly disapprove of the match."

Maunders shrugged his shoulders. "You can't be sure of that."

"I am sure of one thing, that Sir Julius will cut his daughter off with a shilling if she marries you."

"Now that's very clever of you, my dear boy," said Maunders gracefully, "for Sir Julius _is_ the stumbling-block. He's a purse with a gaping mouth, which goes about on two legs, and has no sympathy with romance."

"Romance! Why, you don't know what it means," said Vernon scornfully. "You want to marry money, and either Miss Corsoon or Miss Dimsdale will serve your turn. The last is in possession of her money, whereas the first may not inherit her expected fortune, which will certainly be taken away from her if she marries you. Why not stick to Miss Dimsdale?" Maunders rose and went to the window. "Because I really love Miss Corsoon, much as you may doubt it," he said impetuously. "I have a heart----"

"Which is for sale to the highest bidder. See here, Conny----"

"Conny?" Maunders lifted his eyebrows. "I thought you barred pet names?"

"I am appealing, not to the man-of-the-world, but to my old schoolfellow, if you put it in that way. See here, I love Lucy Corsoon, and, if you would only clear out of the gangway, she would really love me. She does--I have seen it in many ways."

"Bosh! If she really loved you she wouldn't listen to me."

"I don't know. You have good looks and a kind of magnetic power which influences women against their will: hard women of the world, too, much less an innocent girl such as Lucy is. It's a great power to have, and you make bad use of it."

"Just because I happen to cross your track. Thanks."

"Oh, hang your dodging. I came here to receive a plain answer to a plain question. Are you going to marry Miss Corsoon or Miss Dimsdale?"

"I haven't made up my mind."

"You would if Miss Dimsdale would listen to you," snarled Vernon. "If I asked her to be my wife she would accept at once," retorted Maunders.

"No, she wouldn't. Your aunt told me that she had lost all love for you since the death of her father."

Maunders' face grew black. "I wish the old lady would keep her ideas to herself," he said angrily, "for it is an idea and nothing more. Naturally, as her father came by his death in so terrible a manner, Ida is grieved and can't think eternally of me. All the same, she loves me."

"I doubt that."

"On what grounds?"

"On what Mrs. Bedge said."

"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! What does my aunt know about it?" said Maunders lightly and with superb insolence. "She's a dear old thing, but several centuries behind the age. Ida is mine if I choose to have her, and I would have her if my silly heart did not stand in the way."

Vernon jumped up in a royal rage. "I forbid you to make false love to Miss Corsoon. I love her and she loves me, and it is only your infernally magnetic personality that draws her heart away from me. If you meant well by her, and I thought she would be happy, I would withdraw; but you only mean to marry her for her money, which she may never get."

"I love her, I tell you; I love her," said Maunders as violently as Vernon had spoken, "and money or no money I shall marry her if I choose. You have no chance. Lady Corsoon hates you."

"I don't believe it. She shows signs of yielding, and has asked me to go to tea at her house this afternoon. If she hated me she would not ask me in so friendly a way."

An almost imperceptible smile passed over the full lips of Maunders, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Go to her house by all means and hear what she has to say," he sneered. "I'll risk your visit."

Vernon was baffled by all this fencing and evasion. The man would neither say "yea" nor "nay," and it was impossible to tell what he intended to do. "If you will leave the field clear for me with Miss Corsoon I will take you into partnership," he said at last, entreatingly.

"I am not sure if I wish to be taken in," retorted Maunders contemptuously; "it is not a respectable business."

"You are a liar! My business is perfectly respectable, and I earn my money honestly." Vernon caught up his hat and looked round the elegant room. "I doubt if you can say the same."

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Maunders furiously.

"I mean that you haven't a sixpence, that your aunt can't allow you much, and that you are living far beyond your means. Where do you get the money?"

"That's my business," said Maunders coolly, "and my aunt is wealthy."

"So wealthy that she desires the post of a paid companion to Miss Dimsdale," sneered Vernon, making for the door. "She told me so herself, although I'm bound to say that she desires to further your interests by inducing Miss Dimsdale to love you again."

"I can manage all that for myself," said Maunders decisively; "my aunt has no business to interfere with my affairs."

"She brought you up, and----"

"And I am to be her slave for the rest of my life. Nonsense! All that filial feeling is out of date," said Maunders lightly. "However, I shall tell my aunt what I think of her talking to you in this way. As to the rest of it, you keep out of my way, Vernon, or it will be the worse for you."

"Ah!" Vernon faced round at the door. "Now you speak clearly. Is it to be peace or war between us?"

"War," snapped Maunders. "You can't hurt me and----"

"War let it be," interrupted Vernon, opening the door. "Good-day," and he walked out smartly, leaving his friend, or, rather, his enemy, now that war had been declared, rather surprised by his abrupt departure. But when the door closed Maunders' face grew black and his brow wrinkled.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have driven Arty to such a declaration," murmured the young man thoughtfully. "He's a fool, but a clever fool. After all, although I love Lucy it will be better for me to marry Ida since she has the money. I wonder how Aunt Emily found out about Ida's change towards me? It can't last, however, if I only take trouble to see her often enough. It's Lucy who holds me back. I'm a fool, as I know that Lucy doesn't care for me as she does for Arty. I wish I hadn't fought him now; but he can't harm me, he can't." Maunders glanced round the luxurious room. "He shan't. There's too much to lose. Damn him, I'll fight him and beat him. There!"

While Maunders was coming to this conclusion Vernon was walking swiftly along Piccadilly, in the direction of Covent Garden, as he intended to go to the office wherein he carried on business as Nemo. Now that Maunders had openly declared himself as an enemy the situation was somewhat adjusted, and Vernon felt that he could deal with it. He made up his mind to tackle Lady Corsoon that very day and ask if he might be permitted to pay attentions to Lucy. Then in an interview with the girl herself he might manage to brush aside this semi-hypnotic influence which Maunders' fascinating personality seemed to exercise over her. If he could only get the mother on his side all would be well. Lady Corsoon did not know that he was Nemo, which was just as well; but she did not know also that he had expectations from a bachelor uncle who could leave him a title and a fortune of three thousand a year. If this were set before her she might be induced to welcome him as a suitor, although both Sir Julius and Lady Corsoon were said to desire nothing less than a duke for their only child. But if this was the case, Vernon wondered why the lady tolerated Maunders, who was poor and without position. However, when he called that afternoon he might be able to learn the reason. At all events, his expectations, against Maunders' mere good looks, would probably carry the day.

At the office a surprise awaited him. His clerk, a dry-as-dust, lean old fellow, as silent and wise-looking as an owl, met him in the outer room with a mysterious face and informed him that a lady had been waiting an hour for the appearance of Nemo. She had refused to give any name, and had declared her intention of remaining until she saw the detective. Vernon, in his business capacity, was used to people who came and went without giving names, as their business was generally shady, so he did not pay much attention to the matter. Hanging up his coat and hat and laying aside his gloves and cane, he passed into the inner room. Then he received the surprise aforesaid. His client was none other than Lady Corsoon herself.

She arose, perfectly self-possessed, and did not appear to be surprised to see the young man. "How are you, Mr. Vernon?" she asked, holding out a gracious hand, "or perhaps I should call you Nemo here--Mr. Nemo."

Vernon, violently red and inwardly greatly upset by this recognition, accepted the gloved hand timidly. "How did you find out that I----"

"Oh, your enemy told me," finished Lady Corsoon, sitting down.

"My enemy?" stammered the unfortunate man nervously.

"Mr. Constantine Maunders, who----"

Vernon interrupted her and struck a hard blow on the table. His eyes flashed dangerously. "Then, in spite of his promise, he told you what I so much desired to keep secret?"

"Yes," said Lady Corsoon drily. "It was his desire to put me against you, so that he could philander with my daughter. But his shot failed to hit the mark. I was delighted to hear that you were Nemo; I have heard something of Nemo's doings and cleverness, and so the information brought me here, as you see."

"To forbid me your house?"

"I asked you to afternoon tea to-day, and that invitation was issued after your enemy betrayed you. Sit down, Mr. Nemo, and become business-like. We have much to talk about."

Considerably surprised by this attitude, Vernon sank into his chair before the desk and stared at Lady Corsoon in the dim light which filtered through the dingy window of the room. She was well worth looking at, in spite of her age, as her dress was perfect and her looks still displayed the remains of considerable beauty. She was somewhat stout, it is true, but her complexion--whether due to art or nature--was that of a young girl, and her sparkling brown eyes revealed an intellect of no mean order. A clever woman was Lady Corsoon, within limitations, and she would have been even more a power in the fashionable world than she was had she not been so dominated by the powerful personality of her husband. Sir Julius was of long descent, but in his youth of ruined fortunes, owing to a spendthrift father. Being an inborn financier, however, he had built up an Aladdin's palace of gold on the ruins, and was extremely wealthy. Yet he had the heart of a miser, and allowed his wife and daughter only sufficient to keep up their position with care and difficulty. This mean behaviour explains the reason of Lady Corsoon's visit to Vernon in his _avatar_ of Nemo, as he speedily understood. But as yet he had not overcome his surprise at thus finding his mask torn off.

"Come! Come!" said Lady Corsoon, tapping his arm with her sunshade. "I have come to see a business man and not a dreamer. Wake up, Mr. Nemo."

Vernon winced on hearing her pronounce his trade name. "I am at your service," he said in a low voice.

"And in my hands," rejoined Lady Corsoon briskly. "What would the world say if it knew that Arthur Vernon was a private inquiry agent, making his money out of people's secrets?"

"You take me for The Spider, apparently," said Vernon with spirit, and anxious, through pride, to repel the odious accusation. "I make money by helping people to keep their secrets, not by betraying them. I am on the side of the law, not of the criminal. Upon my word, I can't see that a man who carries on an honest business to preserve secrets and to save unfortunate people from blackmail is worse than--if indeed as bad as--a City rogue who trades unscrupulously on people's weakness for gambling."

Lady Corsoon changed colour at the last words, and evidently was about to make a remark thereon. However, she checked herself sharply and replied with feigned carelessness, "Very well argued, Mr. Vernon. But people are prejudiced against those who seek to know secrets."

"Because everyone has a turned-down page in his or her Book of Life," cried the young man. "I--in my business--prevent that page being read by those who wish to be paid for the reading. I don't want my business known, but I am not ashamed of it."

"Why did you take it up?

"Because my father lost all his money, and I had scarcely enough to live upon," retorted the young man quickly and proudly.

"You have expectations?"

Vernon started. "How do you know that?" he demanded sharply. Lady Corsoon tapped his arm again. "In my own way I have been doing a little detective business. You were so persistent in following Lucy from house to house, and so decidedly refused to receive my 'No' for her answer, that I made inquiries to see why you could have the courage to offer a young girl a ruined fortune. I learned, indeed, that you were ruined by your father, but I learned also that Sir Edward Vernon, of Slimthorp, in Worcestershire, is your uncle. He has a good income and no wife and is eighty years of age. The chances are that you will succeed him."

"He cannot keep me out of the title," said Vernon bitterly, "but you should have gained more information, Lady Corsoon. My uncle hated my father because my father married the woman he loved, and he hates me because I am the son of that woman. I do not hope to inherit the money, and what is a title without money? I did not explain what you have discovered, else I should have done so, since it seemed useless to put forward all that as a plea for an engagement to your daughter."

"My dear man, a title is better than nothing. You are too modest. Besides, Lucy will have plenty of money."

"I know, if she marries as you and her father wish. But I hear," Vernon smiled bitterly, "that you want a duke."

"I want an honest man, upon whom I can depend," said Lady Corsoon with energy, "and for that reason I have come to see you."

"In spite of the fact that I am Nemo?"

"For the very reason that you are Nemo," she retorted with a lightning glance. "My dear boy, Mr. Maunders thought to do you a bad turn by telling me of your secret business, and thought that I would certainly forbid you my house and finally end your dangling after my daughter. As it is, he has done you a good turn, as you are the man I want."

"For Lucy?"

"And for myself. If you can carry out safely the business I have come to see you about I shall encourage your addresses to Lucy, and, so far as I can influence so iron-natured a man, I shall win Sir Julius to your side. Come, is it a bargain?"

"Oh," Vernon caught her hand joyfully, "of course it is; I never dreamed of such happiness. But now I know why Maunders smiled when I told him that I was due at your house this afternoon."

"When did you see him?"

"Immediately before I came here. I went to ask whether he wished to marry Miss Corsoon or Miss Dimsdale, but he refused to say. But he smiled--ah! he thought that, having told you I was Nemo, you intended to dismiss me for ever from your house when I called this afternoon."

"I daresay, but he will learn that instead of enemies we are friends, and that instead of his marrying Lucy, you shall. It is just as well," added Lady Corsoon quietly, "as she loves you, although she is more or less fascinated by that--that--that gentleman, shall we say?"

"But you are fascinated yourself, Lady Corsoon, else you would scarcely have tolerated a penniless man dangling after your daughter."

"I tolerated it, as you say, because Mr. Maunders knows my secret."

"Your secret?" In a flash Vernon recalled the conversation with the young man under the peristyle, in which Maunders had hinted that he knew something which would enable him to manage Lady Corsoon.

"What is your secret?"

"I have come to tell you, so don't interrupt until I have finished," said Lady Corsoon coolly. "I come to you because I know in a hundred ways that you are, what Mr. Maunders is not, an honest gentleman, and also the private detective that I need. I have one great vice, Mr. Vernon, I am a gambler, and for the last two years I have lost a heap of money at bridge. To pay my debts, since Sir Julius kept me always very short of money, I pawned certain family jewels. If Sir Julius finds that out he is capable of causing a scandal by forcing a separation. For Lucy's sake, as well as for my own, I don't want such a thing to take place."

"But how can he find out?"

Lady Corsoon fished in a green and gold bag which was slung on her arm and produced an elegant sheet of writing paper. "Read that," she said quietly.

Vernon started, and suppressed a cry. At the foot of the writing he saw a purple spider impressed clearly--the well-known sign manual of the scoundrel who had murdered Mr. Dimsdale. Glancing his eyes over the pages, he read that The Spider had learned about the pawning of certain family jewels and, moreover, had managed, by forged tickets, to get the same into his possession. He was willing to sell them back for two thousand pounds, to be paid in gold on a certain date and at a certain place, to be arranged when he received Lady Corsoon's reply. The reply was to be put in the agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_, when further arrangements would be made for the payment of the sum and the handing over of the jewels. Failing consent, The Spider intended to apply to Sir Julius and to reveal Lady Corsoon's gambling propensities. The whole of this precious epistle, written very elegantly, ended with the ideograph of the purple spider.

"What do you think of it?" asked Lady Corsoon when Vernon finished reading.

"What can I think of it, but that the man is a blackguard. You want me to deal with this?"

"Yes. I can't pay the two thousand pounds, as I have not got it. My husband keeps me very short. You see that I am candid; but then I trust you, as I doubt Mr. Maunders."

"Why do you doubt him?" asked Vernon suddenly. "Because he followed me one day to a pawnshop and learned my secret. Not in so many words, but by unmistakable hints he gave me to understand that my open house to him and my encouraging of his love for Lucy was the price of his silence. Things have gone from bad to worse, and I feel that I am under his thumb, until the jewels are got back again and all proof of my madness is destroyed. I am keeping a brave face, Mr. Vernon, but I am truly in despair. Sir Julius is a hard man, and the revelation of what I have done means disgrace. My husband will not spare me."

"For his daughter's sake?"

"No. He would remove Lucy from my care and cast me off with a small income to live on. He can't get a divorce, but he will insist upon a separation, as I feel certain. You alone can save me, and, if you can, I agree to your marriage with my daughter. Oh," she cried, struck by a strange look in Vernon's eyes, "don't think I am selling Lucy to you. But she loves you, and now that I know you will some day have a title, the money doesn't matter, as Sir Julius may be persuaded into accepting you as his son-in-law. At all events, if you will be my friend I shall be yours. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes," said Vernon, gripping the hand she held out; "for more reasons than this one do I wish to track this blackmailing beast to his lair. Agree, by a line in the _Daily Telegraph_, to pay the money in a month. That will give me time to turn round."

Lady Corsoon drew a long breath of relief. "Thank God I came to you. As for Mr. Maunders, I really believe----" She hesitated.

"What?" asked Vernon looking up quickly.

"That he is The Spider himself.".