The Unspeakable Gentleman

by John P. Marquand

  IV

  I remember the curious feeling I had that my father was gone, that he hadvanished while my back was turned, leaving me to face someone else. Then,as I stared at him, still unready and speechless, the light died out ofhis eyes, his lips relaxed, and his hand went up to arrange the lace athis throat.

  "Shun my example," he said, "shudder at the life I have led. Call medissolute. Call me dangerous company. Say that in every way I'm unfit tobe your father--say that I'm an outcast, suitable only as material forslander. I will agree with you. I will teach you that your judgment iscorrect. Let us only set two limits and do not call them virtues. Theyare necessities in the life I lead, nothing more. They--"

  The sound at the knocker on the front door broke into my father's speechand stilled it. In the pause, while the echoes died away, he shrugged hisshoulders negligently, and settled himself back in his chair.

  "My son," he sighed, "allow me to point out the misfortune of being aman of affairs. They will never adjust themselves to the proper time andplace. Brutus, the two gentlemen about whom I was speaking--show them inat once. And you, my son, there is no need for you to leave. The eveningis young yet."

  "Where are you, Shelton?" came a sharp, authoritative voice from thehallway. "Damn this dark passage."

  "Open the door, Henry," my father said.

  As I did so, two gentlemen entered. The taller, without bothering toremove his hat, strode over to my father's chair. The other stoodundecided near the threshold, until Brutus closed the door behind him.Without rising from his chair, my father gave first one and then theother, the impartial, casual glance of the disinterested observer.

  "This," he remarked politely, "comes near to being unexpected. I hadheard you had come to town, but I had hoped to meet you only in somedesolate waste of purgatory. I fear your visitation finds me singularlyunprepared to do the duties of a host. You found the passage dark? Ah,Lawton, I fear it will be darker still where you are going."

  "That's enough, Shelton," interrupted the first gentleman. "I didn'tcome here to hear you talk. I've heard you do that often enough inthe old days. You can talk a woman off her feet, but by God, youcan't talk me."

  My father waved his hand negligently, as though disavowing somecompliment.

  "The same forceful character," he observed gently, "the same bluntcandor. How refreshing it is, Lawton, after years of intrigue anddissimulation. My son, this is Mr. Lawton, an old, but he will pardon meif I do not add--a valued acquaintance."

  For a moment Mr. Lawton's pale eyes looked sharply into mine, and I bowedto him ironically. I saw a high, thin face, resolute and impulsive, agrim ascetic face, with a long, straight nose that seemed pulled tooclose to his upper lip, and a mouth stamped roughly on a narrow, bonyjaw, a mouth, as I looked at it, that seemed ready to utter animprecation.

  "Mr. Lawton and I have met before," I said.

  "Indeed? And our friend in the background," my father continued. "Perhapsit is my bad memory that permits his identity still to be a revelation?"

  The stranger nervously arranged a fold in his sea cloak, while hislittle black eyes darted restlessly about the room.

  "It's Sims, Captain Shelton," he volunteered, in a gentle, unassumingvoice, "and very much at your service."

  "Captain Shelton be damned!" snapped Lawton. "Keep your name to yourself,Sims, and watch the nigger and the boy. Now, Shelton, for the reason whyI'm here."

  "Indeed, I am forced to admit the reason for your visit may have itspertinence," my father admitted. "The fatigues of a long day, coupledwith the evening's wine--" He stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand,and smiled in polite deprecation.

  Slight as was his speech, Mr. Lawton seemed to take a deep interest init. Indeed, even while he backed around the table and seated himself inthe chair I had occupied, my father's slightest expression engaged hisundivided attention. There fell a silence such as sometimes comes at agame of cards when the stakes at the table are running higher than ispleasant. Brutus was watching Mr. Sims with a malignant intensity. Mr.Sims watched Brutus. Mr. Lawton's eyes, as I have said, never left myfather, and my father polished his nails on the sleeve of his coat.

  "Did I understand you to say," he asked finally, "that you were planningto relieve my mind of the burden of speculation?"

  "Quite," said Mr. Lawton, with a poor attempt at dryness. "I have comehere tonight to induce or force you to return a piece of stolen property.I give you the liberty of taking your choice. Either--"

  His voice raised itself to a sharp command.

  "_Damn you, Shelton, sit still!_"

  The picture had changed. Mr. Lawton was leaning across the table,levelling a pistol at my father's head. With a detached, academicinterest, my father glanced at the weapon, and, without perceptiblepause, without added haste or deliberation, he continued to withdraw thehand he had thrust into his right coat pocket. Beside me I heard Brutusdraw a sharp breath. I saw Mr. Sims fumble under his cloak and take aquick step backwards. There was a tense, pregnant silence, broken by Mr.Sims in fervent expletive. My father had withdrawn his hand. He washolding in it his silver snuff box, which he tossed carelessly on thetable, where it slid among the wine bottles.

  "Why strain so at a gnat, Lawton," he continued in his old conversationalmanner. "Though one can kill a sparrow with a five pound shot, is itworth the effort? Small as my personal regard is for you, a note pennedin three lines would have brought you back your trinket. But when you sayit is stolen--"

  With a gesture of exasperation, Mr. Lawton attempted to interrupt.

  "When you say it is stolen," my father continued, raising his voice,"your memory fails you. I won that snuff box from you fairly, becauseyour horse refused a water jump in Baltimore fifteen years ago."

  Mr. Lawton made a grimace of impatience.

  "Perhaps I can refresh your memory on a more immediate matter," heinterjected harshly, "a matter rather more in keeping with yourcharacter. Don't, don't move, I beg of you! At a certain chateau in theLoire Valley, as recently as two months ago, you had an unfortunateescapade with French government agents."

  "Let us err on the side of accuracy," said my father in gracious assent,"and add that the affair was rather more unfortunate for the agents thanfor myself."

  "Meaning it was fortunate you ran away, I suppose," suggested Mr. Lawton,"fortunate, but natural. You escaped, Shelton, in the company of acertain young lady they were seeking to apprehend. You retained in yourpossession a list of names of political importance. It is a part of yourdamned blackmail, I suppose. I say you stole that paper!"

  "Indeed?" said my father. "In that case, permit me! The snuff isexcellent, Lawton, although the box is commonplace."

  "By God!" shouted Mr. Lawton, "I've had enough of your damned simperingairs? You're a coward, Shelton. Why conceal it from me? A coward, afraidto demand satisfaction after a public insult--a thief with your theftstill about you. I've come to get that list, to return it to its rightfulowners. Try your drunkard's bragging on stupefied boys, but not on me!For the last time--will you give that letter up?"

  My father's hand that held the snuff box trembled. His glance was almostfurtive as he looked from Mr. Sims back to Mr. Lawton. For a moment hestared half-puzzled at Mr. Lawton's pistol. Then he moistened his lips.

  "Suppose I should refuse?" he asked.

  With a wan smile, Mr. Lawton rubbed his left hand over his long chin.

  "In that case," he said, "I shall summon five men whom I hold outside.They will search the house, having searched you first. If they do notfind the letter, I shall give you one more chance to produce it."

  "Of course you realize your action is illegal?" my father interrupted.

  Mr. Lawton laughed.

  "We've beaten about the bush long enough," he said. "Will I have toremind you again that I didn't come to hear you talk? Come to the point.Will you give up that paper?"

  With a sigh of resignation, my father fumbled in his breast pocket. Whenhe spoke, it seemed a weak appeal to justify h
is action.

  "Under the circumstances, what else can I do?" he demanded, "though itseems hard when I had given my word not to part with it."

  He produced a long, sealed document, which he handed across the table.Mr. Lawton's eyes glistened with anticipation as he took it. He held itover the table to scan the seal.

  "Damn all your caution, Sims!" he exclaimed exultantly. "We've got it justas I said we would! Didn't I tell you--"

  His voice choked. He burst into a violent fit of sneezing. My father hadthrown the contents of his snuff box into Mr. Lawton's face.

  If his chair had been of hot iron, he could not have moved more quickly.Almost the same moment, Mr. Lawton's pistol was in my father's hand,cocked and primed and pointed at Mr. Sims.

  "Brutus," said my father, "unburden Mr. Sims of his weapons. Lawton, abreath of night air may relieve you. Let us go to the window and reflecton the slip that may occur between the container and the nose. My son,give Mr. Lawton your arm. Assist me to open the shutters. Now Mr. Lawton,call to your men. Tell them they may go. Louder, louder, Mr. Lawton.Surely your voice has more strength. My ears have been weary this longtime with its clamor."