A FORLORN HOPE
Aynesworth ceased tugging at the strap of his portmanteau, and roseslowly to his feet. A visitor had entered his rooms--apparentlyunannounced.
"I must apologize," the newcomer said, "for my intrusion. Yourhousekeeper, I presume it was, whom I saw below, told me to come up."
Aynesworth pushed forward a chair.
"Won't you sit down?" he said. "I believe that I am addressing Mr.Lumley Barrington."
Not altogether without embarrassment, Barrington seated himself.Something of his ordinary confidence of bearing and demeanor hadcertainly deserted him. His manner, too, was nervous. He had the air ofbeing altogether ill at ease.
"I must apologize further, Mr. Aynesworth," he continued, "for anapparently ill-timed visit. You are, I see, on the eve of a journey."
"I am leaving for America tomorrow," Aynesworth answered.
"With Sir Wingrave Seton, I presume?" Barrington remarked.
"Precisely," Aynesworth answered.
Barrington hesitated for a moment. Aynesworth was civil, but inquiring.He felt himself very awkwardly placed.
"Mr. Aynesworth," he said, "I must throw myself upon your consideration.You can possibly surmise the reason of my visit."
Aynesworth shook his head.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I must plead guilty to denseness--in thisparticular instance, at any rate. I am altogether at a loss to accountfor it."
"You have had some conversation with my wife, I believe?"
"Yes. But--"
"Before you proceed, Mr. Aynesworth," Barrington interrupted, "oneword. You are aware that Sir Wingrave Seton is in possession of certaindocuments in which my wife is interested, which he refuses to give up?"
"I have understood that such is the case," Aynesworth admitted."Will you pardon me if I add that it is a matter which I can scarcelydiscuss?"
Barrington shrugged his shoulders.
"Let it go, for the moment," he said. "There is something else which Iwant to say to you."
Aynesworth nodded a little curtly. He was not very favorably impressedwith his visitor.
"Well!"
Barrington leaned forward in his chair.
"Mr. Aynesworth," he said, "you have made for yourself some reputationas a writer. Your name has been familiar to me for some time. I was atcollege, I believe, with your uncle, Stanley Aynesworth."
He paused. Aynesworth said nothing.
"I want to know," Barrington continued impressively, "what has inducedyou to accept a position with such a man as Seton?"
"That," Aynesworth declared, "is easily answered. I was not looking fora secretaryship at all, or anything of the sort, but I chanced to hearhis history one night, and I was curious to analyze, so far as possible,his attitude towards life and his fellows, on his reappearance in it.That is the whole secret."
Barrington leaned back in his chair, and glanced thoughtfully at hiscompanion.
"You know the story of his misadventures, then?" he remarked.
"I know all about his imprisonment, and the cause of it," Aynesworthsaid quietly.
Barrington was silent for several moments. He felt that he was receivingbut scanty encouragement.
"Is it worth while, Mr. Aynesworth?" he asked at length. "There isbetter work for you in the world than this."
Again Aynesworth preferred to reply by a gesture only. Barrington waswatching him steadily.
"A political secretaryship, Mr. Aynesworth," he said, "might lead youanywhere. If you are ambitious, it is the surest of all stepping stonesinto the House. After that, your career is in your own hands. I offeryou such a post."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you," Aynesworth replied, "but I scarcelyunderstand."
"I have influence," Barrington said, "which I have never cared to useon my own account. I am willing to use it on yours. You have only to saythe word, and the matter is arranged."
"I can only repeat," Aynesworth said, "that I am exceedingly obligedto you, Mr. Barrington, but I cannot understand why you should interestyourself so much on my behalf."
"If you wish me to speak in plain words," Barrington said, "I will doso. I ask you to aid me as a man of honor in the restoration of thoseletters to my wife."
"I cannot do it," Aynesworth said firmly. "I am sorry that you shouldhave come to me with such an offer. It is quite out of the question!"
Barrington held out his hand.
"Do not decide too hastily," he said. "Remember this. Sir Wingrave Setonhad once an opportunity of putting those letters to any use he may havethought fit. He ignored it. At that time, their tenor and contents mighteasily have been explained. After all these years, that task would befar more difficult. I say that no man has a right to keep a woman'sletters back from her years after any friendship there may have beenbetween them is over. It is not the action of an honorable man. SirWingrave Seton has placed himself outside the pale of honorable men."
"Your judgment," Aynesworth answered quietly, "seems to me severe. SirWingrave Seton has been the victim of peculiar circumstances."
Barrington looked at his companion thoughtfully. He was wonderingexactly how much he knew.
"You defend him," he remarked. "That is because you have not yet foundout what manner of man he is."
"In any case," Aynesworth answered, "I am not his judge. Mr.Barrington," he added, "You must forgive me if I remind you that this isa somewhat unprofitable discussion."
A short silence followed. With Barrington it did not appear to be asilence of irresolution. He was leaning a little forward in his chair,and his head was resting upon his hand. Of his companion he seemed forthe moment to have become oblivious. Aynesworth watched him curiously.Was he looking back through the years, he wondered, to that one briefbut lurid chapter of history; or was it his own future of which he wasthinking,--a future which, to the world, must seem so full of brilliantpossibilities, and yet which he himself must feel to be so fatally andmiserably insecure?
"Mr. Aynesworth," he said at last, "I suppose from a crude point of viewI am here to bribe you."
Aynesworth shrugged his shoulders.
"Is it worth while?" he asked a little wearily. "I have tried to becivil--but I have also tried to make you understand. Your task isabsolutely hopeless!"
"It should not be," Barrington persisted. "This is one of those rarecases, in which anything is justifiable. Seton had his chance at thetrial. He chose to keep silence. I do not praise him or blame him forthat. It was the only course open to a man of honor. I maintain that hissilence then binds him to silence for ever. He has no right to ruinmy life and the happiness of my wife by subtle threats, to holdthose foolish letters over our heads, like a thunderbolt held ever insuspense. You are ambitious, I believe, Mr. Aynesworth! Get methose letters, and I will make you my secretary, find you a seat inParliament, and anything else in reason that you will!"
Aynesworth rose to his feet. He wished to intimate that, so far as hewas concerned, the interview was at an end.
"Your proposition, Mr. Barrington," he said, "is absolutely impossible.In the first place, I have no idea where the letters in question are,and Sir Wingrave is never likely to suffer them to pass into my charge."
"You have opportunities of finding out," Barrington suggested.
"And secondly," Aynesworth continued, ignoring the interruption,"whatever the right or the wrong of this matter may be, I am inreceipt of a salary from Sir Wingrave Seton, and I cannot betray hisconfidence."
Barrington also rose to his feet. He was beginning to recognize thehopelessness of his task.
"This is final, Mr. Aynesworth?" he asked.
"Absolutely!" was the firm reply.
Barrington bowed stiffly, and moved towards the door. On the thresholdhe paused.
"I trust, Mr. Aynesworth," he said hesitatingly, "that you will notregard this as an ordinary attempt at bribery and corruption. I havesimply asked you to aid me in setting right a great injustice."
"It is a subtle distinction, Mr. Barringt
on," Aynesworth answered, "butI will endeavor to keep in mind your point of view."
Barrington drove straight home, and made his way directly to his study.Now that he was free from his wife's influence, and looked back upon hisrecent interview, he realized for the first time the folly and indignityof the whole proceedings. He was angry that, a man of common sense, keenwitted and farseeing in the ordinary affairs of life, should have placedhimself so completely in a false, not to say a humiliating position. Andthen, just as suddenly, he forgot all about himself, and remembered onlyher. With a breath of violets, and the delicate rustling of half-liftedskirts, she had come softly into the room, and stood looking at himinquiringly. Her manner seemed to indicate more a good-natured curiositythan real anxiety. She made a little grimace as he shook his head.
"I have failed," he said shortly. "That young man is a prig!"
"I was afraid," she said, "that he would be obstinate. Men with eyes ofthat color always are!"
"What are we to do, Ruth?"
"What can we?" she answered calmly. "Nothing but wait. He is going toAmerica. It is a terrible country for accidents. Something may happen tohim there! Do go and change your things, there's a dear, and look in atthe Westinghams' for me for an hour. We'll just get some supper and comeaway."
"I will be ready in ten minutes," Barrington answered. He understoodthat he was to ask no questions, nor did he. But all the time his manwas hurrying him into his clothes, his brain was busy weaving fancies.
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