CHAPTER VII
Richford stood there shaking and quivering with passion, and yet notfree from the vague terror that Beatrice had noticed all along. Beatricecould not repress a shudder as she looked at that evil, scowling face.To be with that man always, to share his home and his company, seemed toher a most impossible thing. She had lost her father; the future wasblack and hopeless before her, but she felt a strength and courage now,that she had been a stranger to for a long time. There was hope, too,which is a fine thing when allied with youth and vitality.
She need not live with this man; she had every excuse for not doing so.Beatrice cared very little, for the moment, whether she was married ornot. It might possibly be that in the eyes of the law she was this man'swife; the law might compel her to share his home. But now Beatrice had aweapon in her hand and she knew how to use it.
"Give me that telegram," Richford said hoarsely. "Hand it over to me atonce."
He advanced in a manner that was distinctly threatening. Certainly hewould not have stopped at violence if violence would serve his end. ButBeatrice was not afraid.
"I shall do nothing of the kind," she said. "You may as well strike meas look at me like that. If you use violence you may obtain possessionof the telegram. But I warn you that I shall not yield without astruggle that will arouse the whole hotel. I am not coming with you, andwe part here and now. Oh, I am not in the least afraid."
Just at that moment it looked as if the scene of violence would takeplace. With an oath Richford grasped the girl by the wrist and drew herto him. A blow full in the face would have laid her senseless at hisfeet, then he could have helped himself to that priceless telegram. ButRichford had been in the world long enough to knew how to control histemper when it suited him to do so. He forced something in the semblanceof a smile to his lips.
"Don't let us discuss this question like two silly children," he said."You have fairly caught me out. I did go to your father thismorning--there was an urgent reason why I should see him. We need not gointo that now, for it was purely on matters of business. If you ask mehow I got into that room when the door was locked, I will tell you.Before I thought of marrying you and setting up a house of my own, I hadthat suite of rooms."
"Is all this material to our discussion?" Beatrice asked coldly.
"Yes, I think so. At any rate I never gave up the suite of rooms, andthe keys are still in my possession. That is how I got in to see yourfather without anybody being the wiser. I was going to show him the verytelegram which has fallen into your hands. But I found that Sir Charleswas dead, and it was a great shock to me. I must have dropped thattelegram in my agitation and forgotten it. So far you follow me, do younot?"
"I follow you," Beatrice said bitterly. "I quite understand; I admireyour restraint and your cunning. You reasoned it all out in a flash. Ifyou raised the alarm everybody would have known the truth in a fewminutes. And, that being so, there would have been no marriage. You tookall the risks, and fortune favoured the bold as fortune always does.Nothing happened until it was too late, and I was married to you. Butthere is one thing you failed to reckon upon--that my father is nolonger a pawn in the game."
Beatrice was speaking quietly and steadily enough; she felt that thevictory was in her hands now. And Richford had never coveted her sopassionately as he did at this moment when he realized that she was lostto him for ever.
"My father's death leaves me free," the girl went on. "He is dead andnobody can touch him. If he had died yesterday the match would have beenbroken off, as you know. I was prepared to take my chance. If this vilething had not happened, then I should have respected my wedding vows andmade you as good a wife as I could. I should have hated and loathed it,but I should have become accustomed to it in time. But this vile actionof yours makes all the difference. When you and I part after thispainful conversation, we part for good. We shall be talked about; therewill be a lot of idle gossip, but I care nothing for that. And if youraise a hand, if you try to use the law on your side, I produce thattelegram and tell my story."
Again the look of mingled rage and terror came into Richford's eyes.
"You talk like a fool," he said hoarsely. "What can you possibly do toget a living? You are my wife; you can never marry anybody so long as Iam alive. You are very pretty, but you have been brought up to beutterly useless."
"I have strength and courage," Beatrice replied, "and they are worth agood deal. I can go into a shop if the worst comes to the worst. Myrelatives, the Rashboroughs----"
"Lady Rashborough will turn her back on you if you do this. She will befurious."
"Well, then, I must depend upon myself. But you are not going to sayanything--for some reason you are too frightened to say anything."
"And all the wedding presents, the diamonds and the like?" Richfordasked feebly.
"The wedding presents will go back to the senders. There is a plainclothes policeman keeping guard over them now--your diamonds are amongstthe lot. I will see that they are safely sent to you. And I do not knowthat I need say any more."
Beatrice had reached the corridor by this time. She was passing Richfordwith her head in the air. It came to him suddenly that he had losteverything, that he was baffled and beaten. In a sudden spasm of rage hecaught the girl by the shoulders in a savage grip. She gave a littlemoan of pain as she looked around for assistance. It came quiteunexpectedly.
At the same moment Mark Ventmore was coming from his room. He took inthe situation at a glance. With one bound he was by Richford's side, andhe had wrenched his hands away. With a snarl Richford turned upon theman whom he knew to be his successful rival, and aimed a blow at him.Then Mark's fist shot out, and Richford crashed to the ground with alivid red spot on his forehead. Sick and dizzy he scrambled to his feet.
"You are more than a match for me that way," he panted. "But there areother ways, my friend, of wiping that blow out. Look to yourself."
There was a deadly menace in the threat, so that Beatrice shuddered asshe watched the retreating figure. She knew perfectly well that thatblow would not be forgotten. Mark laughed as he heard, then his facechanged and he sighed.
"What does it all mean, Beatrice?" he asked. "For that man to lay handsupon you and so soon after you are--but I cannot bring myself to say theword."
"He was not altogether without excuse, Mark," Beatrice said. "We havecome to an understanding. Never shall I stay under the same roof withStephen Richford."
"Well, thank God for that," Mark said fervently. "Something unexpectedhas happened!"
In a few words Beatrice told the story to which Mark listened with vividinterest. An expression of the deepest disgust came over his face asBeatrice finished her story and handed over the telegram. At the sametime the feeling nearest her heart was one of relief.
"It was the act of a scoundrel, darling," he said. "And yet things mighthave been worse. For instance, you might not have found that telegram.But since you have done so, the game is all in your hands. You are quiteright to defy that fellow and refuse to live with him. He dare notoppose you, Beatrice. Thank Heaven, I shall be able to think of you aspure and free from contamination. But what are you going to do?"
"I have not thought of that yet," Beatrice said with a faint smile. "Fora day or two I shall get the Rashboroughs to give me a home. When myfather's affairs come to be settled up there will be a little less thannothing for me to have. Still, I have some jewels which may bring me ina few hundred pounds. But I shall find something to do."
Mark shut his teeth tightly together to keep back the protestations oflove that rose to his lips. It was no time to speak of that kind ofthing. He felt that he had been tricked out of the only girl for whom hehad ever cared, but, thank goodness, he would not have to think of heras dragging out a lengthening chain by the side of Stephen Richford. AndBeatrice would find something to do--of that he felt certain.
"I will come and see you in a few days, dearest," he said. "Though youare bound to that man by the cruel sport of chance, you still belo
ng tome. There can be no harm in my helping you. And may God bless and keepyou wherever you go, darling."
Mark bent and kissed Beatrice's hand tenderly, and made his way down thestairs. There was nothing now to stay for; Beatrice would go to herfriends, and the strange ending of the Richford-Darryll marriage wouldbe food for the scandal-mongers for many a day to come. All thesethoughts crowded into Mark's mind as he made his way down into the bigdining-room for luncheon. He was sad and sick at heart, but man musteat, all the same. He did not look as if he could eat here at present,for every table was filled. The last seat had fallen to Richford, whofound himself seated opposite to Colonel Berrington. Richford would farrather have been anywhere else, but there was no help for it.
The Colonel bowed coldly to the other's surly nod. Richford belonged toa class that the gallant soldier frankly detested. He expressed nosurprise at seeing Richford here; it was natural under the circumstancesthat Beatrice should keep to her own room. And Berrington had heardnothing of the matter of the telegram.
"Oh, never mind all that rubbish," Richford said testily, as the waiterpassed the elaborate _menu_ with its imposing array of dishes. "What'sthe good of all that foreign cat's meat to an honest Englishman? Give mea steak and plain potatoes and a decanter of brandy."
The brandy came before the steak, and Richford helped himself liberallyto the liquid. Berrington was a little astonished. He had more than onceheard Richford boast that he was positively a teetotaller. He usuallyheld in contempt those who called themselves merely moderate drinkers.
"What a time they keep you here," Richford growled. "If I'd gone to oneof those City places I should have got my steak in half the time. Oh,here the fellow comes. Now, then, I----"
Richford paused in his growling, and contemplated the red hot plate onwhich the steak was displayed with a queer gleam in his eyes and aclicking of the corners of his mouth. Just for the moment it seemed toBerrington as if his _vis a vis_ was going to have a fit of some kind.
"There is salt in the plate," Richford gasped. "Who has taken theliberty of putting----"
He said no more; he seemed to be incapable of further speech. The waiterlooked sympathetic; it was no fault of his. And the salt was there,sure enough.
"It certainly is salt," the waiter said. "I did not notice it before.It's a lot of salt, _and it is exactly in the shape of a rifle bullet_;it's----When I was in South Africa----"
Berrington's glass clicked as he raised it to his lips. Just for aninstant his face was as pale as that of the man opposite him. With agesture Richford motioned the waiter away. Then he rose unsteadily fromthe table, and finished the rest of his brandy without any water at all.He crossed the room like a ghost. Directly he had passed the swingingdoors Berrington rose and followed. He saw Richford in the distanceentering a hansom; he called one himself. Evidently he had no desire forRichford to see him.
"Where shall I drive, sir?" the cabman asked.
"Keep that cab in sight without being seen," Berrington said hastily."Do your work well, and it will be a sovereign in your pocket. Now driveon."
The Slave of Silence Page 7
