The Lion's Skin

by Rafael Sabatini

  CHAPTER XXI. THE LION'S SKIN

  For a spell there was utter silence in that spacious, pillared chamber.Mr. Caryll and her ladyship had both resumed their chairs: the formerspuriously calm; the latter making no attempt to conceal her agitation.Hortensia leant forward, an eager spectator, watching the three actorsin this tragicomedy.

  As for Rotherby, he stood with bent head and furrowed brow. It was forhim to speak, and yet he was utterly at a loss for words. He was notmoved at the news he had received, so much as dismayed. It dictated acourse that would interfere with all his plans, and therefore a courseunthinkable. So he remained puzzled how to act, how to deal with thisunexpected situation.

  It was her ladyship who was the first to break the silence. She had beenconsidering Mr. Caryll through narrowing eyes, the corners of her mouthdrawn down. She had caught the name of Maligny when it was uttered, andout of the knowledge which happened to be hers--though Mr. Caryll wasignorant of this--it set her thinking.

  "I do not believe that you are the son of Mademoiselle de Maligny," shesaid at last. "I never heard that my lord had a son; I cannot believethere was so much between them."

  Mr. Caryll stared, startled out of his habitual calm. Rotherby turned toher with an exclamation of surprise. "How?" he cried. "You knew, then?My father was--"

  She laughed mirthlessly. "Your father would have married her had hedared," she informed them. "'Twas to beg his father's consent thathe braved his banishment and came to England. But his father was asheadstrong as himself; held just such views as he, himself, held laterwhere you were concerned. He would not hear of the match. I was to behad for the asking. My father was a man who traded in his children, andhe had offered me, with a jointure that was a fortune, to the Earl ofOstermore as a wife for his son."

  Mr. Caryll was listening, all ears. Some light was being shed upon muchthat had lain in darkness.

  "And so," she proceeded, "your grandfather constrained your father toforget the woman he had left in France, and to marry me. I know notwhat sins I had committed that I should have been visited with such apunishment. But so it befell. Your father resisted, dallying with thematter for a whole year. Then there was a duel fought. A cousin ofMademoiselle de Maligny's crossed to England, and forced a quarrel uponyour father. They met, and M. de Maligny was killed. Then a change setin in my lord's bearing, and one day, a month or so later, he gave wayto his father's insistence, and we were wed. But I do not believe thatmy lord had left a son in France--I do not believe that had he doneso, I should not have known it; I do not believe that under suchcircumstances, unfeeling as he was, he would have abandoned Mademoisellede Maligny."

  "You think, then," said Rotherby, "that this man has raked up this storyto--"

  "Consider what you are saying," cut in Mr. Caryll, with a flash ofscorn. "Should I have come prepared with documents against such ahappening as this?"

  "Nay, but the documents might have been intended for some other purposehad my lord lived--some purpose of extortion," suggested her ladyship.

  "But consider again, madam, that I am wealthy--far wealthier than wasever my Lord Ostermore, as my friends Collis, Stapleton and many anothercan be called to prove. What need, then, had I to extort?"

  "How came you by your means, being what you say you are?" she asked him.

  Briefly he told her how Sir Richard Everard had cared for him, for hismother's sake; endowed him richly upon adopting him, and since madehim heir to all his wealth, which was considerable. "And for the rest,madam, and you, Rotherby, set doubts on one side. Your ladyship saysthat had my lord had a son you must have heard of it. But my lord,madam, never knew he had a son. Tell me--can you recall the date, themonth at least, in which my lord returned to England?"

  "I can, sir. It was at the end of April of '89. What then?"

  Mr. Caryll produced the certificate again. He beckoned Rotherby, andheld the paper under his eyes. "What date is there--the date of birth?"

  Rotherby read: "The third of January of 1690."

  Mr. Caryll folded the paper again. "That will help your ladyship tounderstand how it might happen that my lord remained in ignorance of mybirth." He sighed as he replaced the case in his pocket. "I would he hadknown before he died," said he, almost as if speaking to himself.

  And now her ladyship lost her temper. She saw Rotherby wavering, andit angered her; and angered, she committed a grave error. Wisdom lay inmaintaining the attitude of repudiation; it would at least have affordedsome excuse for her and Rotherby. Instead, she now recklessly flung offthat armor, and went naked down into the fray.

  "A fig for't all!" she cried, and snapped her fingers. She had risen,and she towered there, a lean and malevolent figure, her head-dressnodding foolishly. "What does it matter that you be what you claim tobe? Is it to weigh with you, Rotherby?"

  Rotherby turned grave eyes upon her. He was, it seemed, not quite rottenthrough and through; there was still in him--in the depths of him--acore that was in a measure sound; and that core was reached. Most of allhad the story weighed with him because it afforded the only explanationof why Mr. Caryll had spared his life that morning of the duel. It was amatter that had puzzled him, as it had puzzled all who had witnessed theaffront that led to the encounter.

  Between that and the rest--to say nothing of the certificate he hadseen, which he could not suppose a forgery--he was convinced that Mr.Caryll was the brother that he claimed to be. He gathered from hismother's sudden anger that she, too, was convinced, in spite of herself,by the answers Mr. Caryll had returned to all her arguments against theidentity he claimed.

  He hated Mr. Caryll no whit less for what he had learnt; if anything, hehated him more. And yet a sense of decency forbade him from persecutinghim now, as he had intended, and delivering to the hangman. Fromordinary murder, once in the heat of passion--as we have seen--he hadnot shrunk. But fratricide appeared--such is the effect of education--afar, far graver thing, even though it should be indirect fratricide ofthe sort that he had contemplated before learning that this man was hisbrother.

  There seemed to be one of two only courses left him: to provide Mr.Caryll with the means of escape, or else to withhold such evidence ashe intended to supply against him, and to persuade--to compel, ifnecessary--his mother to do the same. When all was said, his interestsneed not suffer very greatly. His position would not be quite so strong,perhaps, if he but betrayed a plot without delivering up any of theplotters; still, he thought, it should be strong enough. His fatherdead, out of consideration of the signal loyalty his act must manifest,he thought the government would prove grateful and forbear fromprosecuting a claim for restitution against the Ostermore estates.

  He had, then, all but resolved upon the cleaner course, when, suddenly,something that in the stress of the moment he had gone near tooverlooking, was urged upon his attention.

  Hortensia had risen and had started forward at her ladyship's lastwords. She stood before his lordship now with pleading eyes, and handsheld out. "My lord," she cried, "you cannot do this thing! You cannot doit!"

  But instead of moving him to generosity, by those very words shesteeled his heart against it, and proved to him that, after all, hispotentialities for evil were strong enough to enable him to do the verything she said he could not. His brow grew black as midnight; his darkeyes raked her face, and saw the agony of apprehension for her loverwritten there. He drew breath, hissing and audible, glanced once atCaryll; then: "A moment!" said he.

  He strode to the door and called the footmen, then turned again.

  "Mr. Caryll," he said in a formal voice, "will you give yourself thetrouble of waiting in the ante-room? I need to consider upon thismatter."

  Mr. Caryll, conceiving that it was with his mother that Rotherbyintended to consider, rose instantly. "I would remind you, Rotherby,that time is pressing," said he.

  "I shall not keep you long," was Rotherby's cold reply, and Mr. Caryllwent out.

  "What now, Charles?" asked his mother. "Is this child to remain?"


  "It is the child that is to remain," said his lordship. "Will yourladyship do me the honor, too, of waiting in the ante-room?" and he heldthe door for her.

  "What folly are you considering?" she asked.

  "Your ladyship is wasting time, and time, as Mr. Caryll has said, ispressing."

  She crossed to the door, controlled almost despite herself by the calmair of purpose that was investing him. "You are not thinking of--"

  "You shall learn very soon of what I am thinking, ma'am. I beg that youwill give us leave."

  She paused almost upon the threshold. "If you do a rashness, here,remember that I can still act without you," she reminded him. "You maychoose to believe that that man is your brother, and so, out of that,and"--she added with a cruel sneer at Hortensia--"other considerations,you may elect to let him go. But remember that you still have me toreckon with. Whether he prove of your blood or not, he cannot provehimself of mine--thank God!"

  His lordship bowed in silence, preserving an unmoved countenance,whereupon she cursed him for a fool, and passed out. He closed the door,and turned the key, Hortensia watching him in a sort of horror. "Letme go!" she found voice to cry at last, and advanced towards thedoor herself. But Rotherby came to meet her, his face white, his eyesglowing. She fell away before his opening arms, and he stood still,mastering himself.

  "That man," he said, jerking a backward thumb at the closed door, "livesor dies, goes free or hangs, as you shall decide, Hortensia."

  She looked at him, her face haggard, her heart beating high in herthroat as if to suffocate her. "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "You love him!" he growled. "Pah! I see it in your eyes--in yourtremors--that you do. It is for him that you are afraid, is't not?"

  "Why do you mock me with it?" she inquired with dignity.

  "I do not mock you, Hortensia. Answer me! Is it true that you love him?"

  "It is true," she answered steadily. "What is't to you?"

  "Everything!" he answered hotly. "Everything! It is Heaven and Hell tome. Ten days ago, Hortensia, I asked you to marry me--"

  "No more," she begged him, an arm thrown out to stay him.

  "But there is more," he answered, advancing again. "This time I canmake the offer more attractive. Marry me, and Caryll is not only freeto depart, but no evidence shall be laid against him. I swear it! Refuseme, and he hangs as surely--as surely as you and I talk together herethis moment."

  Cold eyes scathed him with contempt. "God!" she cried. "What manner ofmonster are you, my lord? To speak so--to speak of marriage to me, andto speak of hanging a man who is son to that same father of yours wholies above stairs, not yet turned cold. Are you human at all?"

  "Ay--and in nothing so human as in my love for you, Hortensia."

  She put her hands to her face. "Give me patience!" she prayed. "Theinsult of it after what has passed! Let me go, sir; open that door, andlet me go."

  He stood regarding her a moment, with lowering brows. Then he turned,and went slowly to the door. "He dies, remember!" said he, and thewords, the sinister tone and the sinister look that was stamped upon hisface, shattered her spirit as at a blow.

  "No, no!" she faltered, and advanced a step or two. "Oh, have pity!"

  "When you show me pity," he answered.

  She was beaten. "You--you swear to let him go--to see him safely out ofEngland--if--if I consent?"

  His eyes blazed. He came back swiftly, and she stood, a frozen thing,passively awaiting him; a frozen thing, she let him take her in hisarms, yielding herself in horrific surrender.

  He held her close a moment, the blood surging to his face, and glowingdarkly through the swarthy skin. "Have I conquered, then?" he cried."You'll marry me, Hortensia?"

  "At that price," she answered piteously, "at that price."

  "Shalt find me a gentle, loving husband, ever. I swear it beforeHeaven!" he vowed, the ardor of his passion softening his nature, assteel is softened in the fire.

  "Then be it so," she said, and her tone was less cold, for she beganto glow, as it were, with the ardor of the sacrifice that she wasmaking--began to experience the exalted ecstasy of martyrdom. "Save him,and you shall find me ever a dutiful wife to you, my lord--a dutifulwife."

  "And loving?" he demanded greedily.

  "Even that. I promise it," she answered.

  With a hoarse cry, he stooped to kiss her; then, with an oath, hechecked, and flung her from him so violently that she hurtled to a chairand sank to it, overbalanced. "No," he roared, like a mad thing now."Hell and damnation--no!"

  A wild frenzy of jealousy had swept aside his tenderness. He was sickand faint with the passion of it of this proof of how deeply she mustlove that other man. He strove to control his violence. He snarled ather, in his endeavors to subdue the animal, the primitive creature thathe was at heart. "If you can love him so much as that, he had betterhang, I think." He laughed on a high, fierce note. "You have spoke hissentence, girl! D'ye think I'd take you so--at second hand? Oh, s'death!What d'ye deem me?"

  He laughed again--in his throat now, a quivering; half-sobbing laugh ofanger--and crossed to the door, her eyes following him, terrified; hermind understanding nothing of this savage. He turned the key, and flungwide the door with a violent gesture. "Bring him in!" he shouted.

  They entered--Mr. Caryll with the footmen at his heels, a frown betweenhis brows, his eyes glancing quickly and searchingly from Rotherby toHortensia. After him came her ladyship, no less inquisitive of look.Rotherby dismissed the lackeys, and closed the door again. He flung outan arm to indicate Hortensia.

  "This little fool," he said to Caryll, "would have married me to saveyour life."

  Mr. Caryll raised his brows. The words relieved his fears. "I am glad,sir, that you perceive she would have been a fool to do so. You, I takeit, have been fool enough to refuse the offer."

  "Yes, you damned play-actor! Yes!" he thundered. "D'ye think I wantanother man's cast-offs?"

  "That is an overstatement," said Mr. Caryll. "Mistress Winthrop is nocast-off of mine."

  "Enough said!" snapped Rotherby. He had intended to say much, to do somemighty ranting. But before Mr. Caryll's cold half-bantering reduction offacts to their true values, he felt himself robbed of words. "You hang!"he ended shortly.

  "Ye're sure of that?" questioned Mr. Caryll.

  "I would I were as sure of Heaven."

  "I think you may be--just about as sure," Mr. Caryll rejoined, entirelyunperturbed, and he sauntered forward towards Hortensia. Rotherby andhis mother watched him, exchanging glances.

  Then Rotherby shrugged and sneered. "'Tis his bluster," said he. "He'llbe a farceur to the end. I doubt he's half-witted."

  Mr. Caryll never heeded him. He was bending beside Hortensia. He tookher hand, and bore it to his lips. "Sweet," he murmured, "'twas atreason that you intended. Have you, then, no faith in me? Courage,sweetheart, they cannot hurt me."

  She clutched his hands, and looked up into his eyes. "You but say thatto comfort me!" she cried.

  "Not so," he answered gravely. "I tell you no more than what is true.They think they hold me. They will cheat, and lie and swear falsely tothe end that they may destroy me. But they shall have their pains fornothing."

  "Ay--depend upon that," Rotherby mocked him. "Depend upon it--to thegallows."

  Mr Caryll's curious eyes smiled upon his brother, but his lips werecontemptuous. "I am of your own blood, Rotherby--your brother," he saidagain, "and once already out of that consideration I have spared yourlife--because I would not have a brother's blood upon my hands." Hesighed, and continued: "I had hoped that you had enough humanity to dothe same. I deplore that you should lack it; but I deplore it for yourown sake, because, after all, you are my brother. Apart from that, itmatters nothing to me."

  "Will it matter nothing when you are proved a Jacobite spy?" cried herladyship, enraged beyond endurance by this calm scorn of them. "Will itmatter nothing when it is proved that you carried that letter, and wouldhave carried that other--that you were
empowered to treat in your exiledmaster's name? Will that matter nothing?"

  He looked at her an instant, then, as if utterly disdaining to answerher, he turned again to Rotherby. "I were a fool and blind, did I notsee to the bottom of this turbid little puddle upon which you think tofloat your argosies. You are selling me. You are to make a bargain withthe government to forbear the confiscations your father has incurred outof consideration of the service you can render by disclosing this plot,and you would throw me in as something tangible--in earnest of theothers that may follow. Have I sounded the depths of your intent?"

  "And if you have--what then?" demanded sullen Rotherby.

  "This, my lord," answered Mr. Caryll, and he quoted: "'The man that oncedid sell the lion's skin while the beast lived, was killed with huntinghim. Remember that!"'

  They looked at him, impressed by the ringing voice in which he hadspoken-a voice in which the ring was of mingled mockery and exultation.Then her ladyship shook off the impression, and laughed.

  "With what d'ye threaten us?" she asked contemptuously.

  "I--threaten, ma'am? Nay, I am incapable of threatening. I do notthreaten. I have reasoned with you, exhorted you, shown you cause why,had you one spark of decency left, you would allow me to depart andshield me from the law you have invoked to ruin me. I have hoped foryour own sakes that you would be moved so to do. But since you willnot--" He paused and shrugged. "On your own heads be it."

  "On our own heads be what?" demanded Rotherby.

  But Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook his head. "Did you know all, it mightindeed influence your decision; and I would not have that happen. Youhave chosen, have you not, Rotherby? You will sell me; you will hangme--me, your father's son. Poor Rotherby! From my soul I pity you!"

  "Pity me? Death! You impudent rogue! Keep your pity for those that needit."

  "That is why I offer it you, Rotherby," said Mr. Caryll, almost sadly."In all my life, I have not met a man who stood more sorely in need ofit, nor am I ever like to meet another."

  There was a movement without, a tap at the door; and Humphries enteredto announce Mr. Green's return, accompanied by Mr. Second SecretaryTempleton, and without waiting for more, he ushered them into the room.