Might be too busy. Well, it can't be helped. Good-bye."
As a matter of fact, it was Mrs Hargrave's maid who had rung up to tellhim that her mistress was on her way to his office. He knew enough tobe sure that a meeting between Violet and Rossett would be verydisturbing to both, hence his discomfiture.
Mount Street to Dover Street in a taxi is not a very far cry. If GuyRossett did not swallow his champagne and clear out in a few seconds,the meeting was inevitable. The only apartments were the outer office,the waiting-room, and his own sanctum, and they all led into each other.
Guy, not being thirsty, drank his wine very leisurely. Then he rose togo, but some minutes had elapsed, and at the moment he rose the officeboy brought in a slip of folded paper, on which was written MrsHargrave's name.
"Many thanks for meeting me in this little matter, Mr Jackson. Well,for the present, good-bye." And poor Guy Rossett, fondly thinking thathe had laid the ghosts of the past, emerged from Jackson's room to beconfronted with Violet Hargrave, seated in one of those luxurious easychairs which the hospitable foreigner provided for his waiting clients.
He put the best face he could on the situation, and advanced withoutstretched hand.
"An unexpected pleasure, Mrs Hargrave," he cried in a very uncertainvoice. A more embarrassed specimen of a budding diplomatist could nothave been observed.
The pretty widow ignored the outstretched hand. She looked at himsteadily, and the blue eyes were no longer soft and limpid, but hard assteel.
"I think," she said in a voice that was as hard as her glance, "you areindulging in the language of diplomacy, which is usually used todisguise one's real thoughts."
Rossett turned red, and began, in his agitation, to stammer forth lameand foolish excuses.
"I have been awfully busy lately, you know, not had time for anything inthe social line. The truth is, Mrs Hargrave, I have just woke up tothe fact that I have been wasting a good part of my life. I am reallygoing in now for work, hard work, and ambition."
She swept him with a contemptuous glance.
"Is this supposed to be an apology for your despicable conduct asregards myself?"
"As you please to take it, Mrs Hargrave." Knowing he was utterly inthe wrong, he took refuge in a sort of sullen dignity.
Her voice grew more scornful as she answered in her clear, vibranttones.
"I should not like to detain you even for a moment, when you have such alaudable object in view. If you are going to atone for those wastedyears, you will have a tremendous lot of leeway to make up. You cannotspare a second. Good day." He could not rally under her sharp tongueand keen woman's wit. He bowed, and was about to move away when shestopped him with an imperious gesture.
"One moment of your valuable time, if you please, Mr Rossett. You arefond of running away when the situation becomes a little inconvenient toyourself. But on this, I hope, our last meeting, I wish to say a fewwords to you, which it is well you should hear. May I presume totrespass on your time for a few seconds longer?"
There was still in her tones the same bitter note of sarcasm. But bythis time, Guy had recovered himself a little, and was able to muster aremnant of dignity.
"My time is at your disposal," he replied quietly.
"You have not acted the part of a gentleman, Mr Rossett. You weresupposed to be my husband's friend; you pretended to be mine. Certainevents occurred, the nature of which it is easy to guess, which causedyou to think my friendship was no longer desirable. That is the truth,is it not? Be frank for once, if a diplomatist can ever be frank."
She dominated the situation. Rossett could only stammer forth ashamefaced admission that it was the truth.
"You admit it. Would you not have played a more manly part, if you hadcome to me with a frank and proper explanation of those events?"
"That is just what I ought to have done," said Guy Rossett humbly. Hehad never admired her more than now. Up to the present moment he had noidea that this dainty, slender woman, more or less of a butterfly, hadsuch spirit in her fragile frame.
"Instead of that," pursued Violet Hargrave in her inflexible, vibratingtones, "you adopt a device pursued by many men I know, by the type ofman who lacks moral courage. I am afraid I shall hurt you a little now,but I don't mind because you have hurt me, and I want to cry quits. Youadopted the coward's device of running away from the woman to whom youwere afraid to tell the truth."
Rossett was utterly beaten. He could not say a word in self-defence.He stood speechless under the lash of her scorn, her not unjustifiableindignation. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.
"I will keep you no longer, Mr Rossett. For some years we were ratherintimate friends. To-day we are strangers. As a stranger, I will bidyou good-bye."
And Guy Rossett was happy to escape. He had never felt more humiliatedin his life.
He put himself into a taxi, and drove straight to the St James's Club,beloved of diplomatists. He ruminated ruefully over his discomfiture atthe hands of the sharp-tongued Mrs Hargrave.
"Some women have the knack of making a man feel like a worm," he thoughtbitterly. "Mary has it in her quiet, incisive way. Violet has it toperfection."
The young widow entered the sanctum of the moneylender. Outwardly, herdemeanour was calm, but in her breast a volcano was raging. Her pridehad been humbled, her hopes ruthlessly crushed. She was raging with allthe resentful impotence of the woman scorned.
Jackson met her with outstretched hands, and took both of hers.
"My poor little Violet," he said kindly. "I can see you are very upset;at least, it is plain to me who have known you from a baby. If you hadonly told your maid to 'phone me up before you started, I would havedelayed you, and prevented this."
She sank down on a chair with a little weary sigh. "You have alwaysbeen my best friend, Juan. Heaven knows what I should have done orwhere I should have been without you."
"Tut, tut." The "financier" was very human where women were concerned."And you are fond of this fellow, eh, apart from other considerations?"
"I was, Juan, but now I hate him," was the uncompromising reply."Still, on the whole, I am not sure I would have missed that little talkwith him. Clever young man of the world as he is, ready and quick as hewas, I cut him to the quick. I made him feel very small."
Jackson chuckled. "I will wager you gave him a good dressing down, whenyou once started. Well now, my child, I guess you want to see me onsomething important."
"Something very important," was the reply.
The two drew their chairs closely together, and conversed in low tones,using the Spanish language.
CHAPTER THREE.
To a man of Lord Saxham's ancient lineage and broad acres, althoughthose same broad acres were somewhat heavily encumbered, General Clandonwas a mere nobody. He was just one of the many thousands of persons whoare entitled to be called gentlemen, as a matter of courtesy, but haveno claim to rank in the same category with pure aristocracy.
All the same, the General came of very respectable stock, from thatsection of the small landowning class which is the backbone of theterritorial interest. His forbears had been settled in Kent for somesix generations. His eldest brother, Hugh Clandon, who had ruled overClandon Place, had a rent roll of some five thousand a year clear.
To an ordinary person, in a lower walk of life, this would seem by nomeans a despicable income. But Clandon Place was a large house, andcost a good deal to keep up, even on an economical scale. And all theClandons, with the solitary exception of the General himself, wereexceedingly prolific.
His brother Hugh had eight children. He was one of ten. Daughters hadto be portioned off, sons had to be educated and started in the world.Geoffrey Clandon inherited a few thousands on his father's death; healways thought his father must have been a wonderful man to leave somuch, considering the calls upon him. The General contrived to liveupon the modest income derived from this small capital, plus hishalf-pay.
He now lived a
t Eastbourne upon the somewhat slender revenue. When hedied, his only child, Isobel, would have a few hundred pounds a year tocall her own.
In his youth, he had been exceedingly handsome, and, had he been of amore worldly turn of mind, he might easily have married money. Instead,he married for love, and never repented it. His wife brought him nofortune, but she brought him other things beyond price.
Mrs Clandon died when Isobel was sixteen, and all the intense lovewhich the General had borne his wife was transferred to his daughter,who fully reciprocated her father's devotion.
She was a very sweet and lovable girl, perhaps just a little wiser andolder than her actual years, as is often the case with only children,who have been brought up in close companionship with their parents.
She looked after his house admirably, saw that his meals
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