The Malefactor

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  "HAST THOU FOUND ME, O MINE ENEMY?"

  Aynesworth was waiting in the hall on the following afternoon when LadyRuth arrived. He had half expected that she would drive up to theside door in a hansom, would wear a thick veil, and adopt the otherappurtenances of a clandestine meeting. But Lady Ruth was much tooclever a woman for anything of the sort. She descended at the greatfront entrance from her own electric coupe, and swept into the hotelfollowed by her maid. She stopped to speak to the manager of the hotel,who knew her from her visits to the world-famous restaurant, and sheasked at once for Sir Wingrave Seton. Then she saw Aynesworth, andcrossed the hall with outstretched hand.

  "How nice of you to be here," she murmured. "Can you take me to SirWingrave at once? I have such a busy afternoon that I was afraid at thelast moment that I should be unable to come!"

  Aynesworth led her towards the lift.

  "Sir Wingrave is in his sitting room," he remarked. "It is only on thefirst floor."

  She directed her maid where to wait, and followed him. On the way downthe corridor, he stole a glance at her. She was a little pale, and hecould see that she had nerved herself to this interview with a greateffort. As he knocked at the door, her great eyes were raised for amoment to his, and they were like the eyes of a frightened child.

  "I am afraid!" she murmured.

  There was no time for more. They were in the room, and Wingrave hadrisen to meet them. Lady Ruth did not hesitate for a moment. She crossedthe room towards him with outstretched hands. Aynesworth, who wasstanding a little on one side, watched their meeting with intense,though covert interest. She had pushed back her veil, her head was alittle upraised in a mute gesture of appeal.

  She was pale to the lips, but her eyes were soft with hidden tears.Wingrave stood stonily silent, like a figure of fate. His hands remainedby his sides. Her welcome found no response from him. She came to astandstill, and, swaying a little, stretched out her hand and steadiedherself by grasping the back of a chair.

  "Wingrave," she murmured, and her voice was full of musical reproach.

  Aynesworth turned to leave the room, but Wingrave, looking over herhead, addressed him.

  "You will remain here, Aynesworth," he said. "There are some papers atthat desk which require sorting."

  Aynesworth hesitated. He had caught the look on Lady Ruth's face.

  "If you could excuse me for half an hour, Sir Wingrave," he began.

  "I cannot spare you at present," Wingrave interrupted. "Kindly remain!"

  Aynesworth had no alternative but to obey. Wingrave handed a chair toLady Ruth. He was looking at her steadfastly. There were no signs of anysort of emotion in his face. Whatever their relations in the past mighthave been, it was hard to believe, from his present demeanor, that hefelt any.

  "Wingrave," she said softly, "are you going to be unkind to me--you,whom I have always thought of in my dreams as the most generous of men!I have looked forward so much to seeing you again--to knowing that youwere free! Don't disappoint me!"

  Wingrave laughed shortly, and Aynesworth bent closer over his work,with a gathering frown upon his forehead. A mirthless laugh is never apleasant sound.

  "Disappoint you!" he repeated calmly. "No! I must try and avoid that!You have been looking forward with so much joy to this meeting then? Iam flattered."

  She shivered a little.

  "I have looked forward to it," she answered, and her voice was dull andlifeless with pain. "But you are not glad to see me," she continued."There is no welcome in your face! You are changed--altogether! Why didyou send for me?"

  "Listen!"

  There was a moment's silence. Wingrave was standing upon the hearthrug,cold, passionless, Sphinx-like. Lady Ruth was seated a few feet away,but her face was hidden.

  "You owe me something!" he said.

  "Owe--you something?" she repeated vaguely.

  "Do you deny it?" he said.

  "Oh, no, no!" she declared with emotion. "Not for a moment."

  "I want," he said, "to give you an opportunity of repaying some portionof that debt!"

  She raised her eyes to his. Her whispered words came so softly that theywere almost inaudible.

  "I am waiting," she said. "Tell me what I can do!"

  He commenced to speak at some length, very impassively, verydeliberately.

  "You will doubtless appreciate the fact," he said, "that my position,today, is a somewhat peculiar one. I have had enough of solitude. I amrich! I desire to mix once more on equal terms amongst my fellows. Andagainst that, I have the misfortune to be a convicted felon, who hasspent the last ten or a dozen years amongst the scum of the earth,engaged in degrading tasks, and with no identity save a number. Theposition, as you will doubtless observe, is a difficult one."

  Her eyes fell from his. Once more she shivered, as though with physicalpain. Something that was like a smile, only that it was cold andlifeless, flitted across his lips.

  "I have no desire," he continued, "to live in foreign countries. Onthe contrary, I have plans which necessitate my living in England. Thedifficulties by this time are, without doubt, fully apparent to you."

  She said nothing. Her eyes were once more watching his face.

  "My looking glass," he continued, "shows me that I am changed beyondany reasonable chance of recognition. I do not believe that the WingraveSeton of today would readily be recognized as the Wingrave Seton oftwelve years ago. But I propose to make assurance doubly sure. I amleaving this country for several years, at once. I shall go to America,and I shall return as Mr. Wingrave, millionaire--and I propose, by theway, to make money there. I desire, under that identity, to takemy place once more amongst my fellows. I shall bring letters ofintroduction--to you."

  There was a long and somewhat ominous silence! Lady Ruth's eyes werefixed upon the floor. She was thinking, and thinking rapidly, but therewere no signs of it in her pale drawn face. At last she looked up.

  "There is my husband," she said. "He would recognize you, if no one elsedid."

  "You are a clever woman," he answered. "I leave it to you to deal withyour husband as seems best to you."

  "Other people," she faltered, "would recognize you!"

  "Do me the favor," he begged her, "to look at me carefully for severalmoments. You doubtless have some imperfect recollection of what I was.Compare it with my present appearance! I venture to think that you willagree with me. Recognition is barely possible."

  Again there was silence. Lady Ruth seemed to have no words, but therewas the look of a frightened child upon her face.

  "I am sorry," he continued, "that the idea does not appeal to you! I canunderstand that my presence may serve to recall a period which you andyour husband would doubtless prefer to forget--"

  "Stop!"

  A little staccato cry of pain; a cry which seemed to spring into lifefrom a tortured heart, broke from her lips. Aynesworth heard it, and,at that moment, he hated his employer. Wingrave paused for a momentpolitely, and then continued.

  "But after all," he said, "I can assure you that you will find verylittle in the Mr. Wingrave of New York to remind you of the past. Ishall do my utmost to win for myself a place in your esteem, which willhelp you to forget the other relationship, which, if my memory servesme, used once to exist between us!"

  She raised her head. Either she realized that, for the present, theman was immune against all sentiment, or his calm brutality had had acorrespondingly hardening effect upon her.

  "If I agree," she said, "will you give me back my letters?"

  "No!" he answered.

  "What are you going to do with them?"

  "It depends," he said, "upon you. I enter into no engagement. I make nopromises. I simply remind you that it would be equally possible for meto take my place in the world as a rehabilitated Wingrave Seton. Tenyears ago I yielded to sentiment. Today I have outlived it."

  "Ten years ago," she murmured, "you were a hero. God knows what you arenow!"

  "Exactly!" he answered smoothly. "I am free t
o admit that I am a puzzleto myself. I find myself, in fact, a most interesting study."

  "I consent," she said, with a little shudder. "I am going now."

  "You are a sensible woman," he answered. "Aynesworth, show Lady Ruth toher carriage."

  She rose to her feet. Hung from her neck by a chain of fine gold, wasa large Chinchilla muff. She stood before him, and her hands had soughtits shelter. Timidly she withdrew one.

  "Will you shake hands with me, Wingrave?" she asked timidly.

  He shook his head.

  "Forgive me," he said; "I may better my manners in America, but apresent I cannot."

  She passed out of the room. Aynesworth followed, closing the door behindthem. In the corridor she stumbled, and caught at his arm for support.

  "Don't speak to me," she gasped. "Take me where I can sit down."

  He found her a quiet corner in the drawing room. She sat perfectly stillfor nearly five minutes, with her eyes closed. Then she opened them, andlooked at her companion.

  "Mr. Aynesworth," she said, "are you so poor that you must serve a manlike that?"

  He shook his head.

  "It is not poverty," he answered. "I knew his history, and I aminterested in him!"

  "You write novels, don't you?" she asked.

  "I try," he answered. "His story fascinated me. He stands today in aunique position to life. I want to see how he will come out of it."

  "You knew his story--the truth?"

  "Everything," he answered. "I heard it from a journalist who was incourt, his only friend, the only man who knew."

  "Where is he now?"

  "On his way to Japan."

  She drew a little breath between her teeth.

  "There were rumors," she said. "It was hard for me at first, but Ilived them down. I was very young then. I ought not to have acceptedhis sacrifice. I wish to heaven I had not. I wish that I had faced thescandal then. It is worse to be in the power of a man like this today!Mr. Aynesworth!"

  "Lady Ruth!"

  "Do you think that he has the right to keep those letters?"

  "I cannot answer that question."

  "Will you be my friend?"

  "So far as I can--in accordance with my obligations to my employer!"

  She tried him no further then, but rose and walked slowly out ofthe room. He found her maid, and saw them to their carriage. Then hereturned to the sitting room. Wingrave was smoking a cigarette.

  "I am trying the humanizing influence," he remarked. "Got rid of herladyship?"

  "Lady Ruth has just gone," Aynesworth answered.

  "Have you promised to steal the letters yet?" he inquired.

  "Not yet!"

  "Her dainty ladyship has not bid high enough, I suppose," he continued."Don't be afraid to open your mouth. There's another woman there besidesthe Lady Ruth Barrington, who opens bazaars, and patronizes charity, andentertains Royalty. Ask what you want and she'll pay!"

  "What a brute you are!" Aynesworth exclaimed involuntarily.

  "Of course I am," he admitted. "I know that. But whose fault is it? Itisn't mine. I've lived the life of a brute creature for ten years.You don't abuse a one-legged man, poor devil. I've had other thingsamputated. I was like you once. It seemed all right to me to go under tosave a woman's honor. You never have. Therefore, I say you've no rightto call me a brute. Personally, I don't object. It is simply a matter ofequity."

  "I admit it," Aynesworth declared. "You are acting like a brute."

  "Precisely. I didn't make myself what I am. Prison did it. Go and tryten years yourself, and you'll find you will have to grope about foryour fine emotions. Are you coming to America with me?"

  "I suppose so," Aynesworth answered. "When do we start?"

  "Saturday week."

  "Sport west, or civilization east?"

  "Both," Wingrave answered. "Here is a list of the kit which we shallrequire. Add yourself the things which I have forgotten. I pay forboth!"

  "Very good of you," Aynesworth answered.

  "Not at all. I don't suppose you'd come without. Can you shoot?"

  "A bit," he admitted.

  "Be particular about the rifles. I can take you to a little corner inCanada where the bears don't stand on ceremony. Put everything in hand,and be ready to come down to Cornwall with me on Monday."

  "Cornwall!" Aynesworth exclaimed. "What on earth are we going to do inCornwall?"

  "I have an estate there, the home of my ancestors, which I am going tosell. I am the last of the Setons, fortunately, and I am going to smashthe family tree, sell the heirlooms, and burn the family records!"

  "I shouldn't if I were you," Aynesworth said quietly. "You are a youngman yet. You may come back to your own!"

  "Meaning?"

  "You may smoke enough cigarettes to become actually humanized! One cannever tell! I have known men proclaim themselves cynics for life, whohave been making idiots of themselves with their own children in fiveyears."

  Wingrave nodded gravely.

  "True enough," he answered. "But the one thing which no man can mistakeis death. Listen, and I will quote some poetry to you. I think--it issomething like this:--

  "'The rivers of ice may melt, and the mountains crumble into dust, butthe heart of a dead man is like the seed plot unsown. Green grassshall not sprout there, nor flowers blossom, nor shall all the ages ofeternity show there any sign of life.'"

  He spoke as though he had been reading from a child's Primer. When hehad finished, he replaced his cigarette between his teeth.

  "I am a dead man," he said calmly. "Dead as the wildest seed plot inGod's most forgotten acre!"