Chapter Twenty Six. Face to Face.

“I’d much like to know what your business is ’ere?” demanded the coarse-featured fellow, whose grey bowler hat and gaiters gave him a distinctly horsey appearance. And as he stood in the doorway, he folded his arms defiantly and looked me straight in the face.

“My business is my own affair,” I answered, facing him in disgust.

“If it concerns my wife, I have a right to know,” he persisted.

“Your wife!” I cried, advancing towards him, with difficulty repressing the strong impulse within me to knock the young ruffian down. “Don’t call her your wife, fellow! Call her by her true name—your victim!”

“Do you mean that as an insult?” he exclaimed quickly, his face turning white with sudden anger, whereupon Mabel, seeing his threatening attitude, sprang between us and begged me to be calm.

“There are some men whom no words can insult,” I replied forcibly. “And you are one of them.”

“What do you mean?” he cried. “Do you wish to pick a quarrel?” and he came forward with clenched fists.

“I desire no quarrel,” was my quick response. “I only order you to leave this lady in peace. She may be legally your wife, but I will stand as her protector.”

“Oh!” he sneered, with curling lip. “And I’d like to know by what right you interfere between us?”

“By the common right every man has to shield an unprotected and persecuted woman,” I replied, firmly. “I know you, and am well aware of your shameful past. Shall I recall one incident, that, now you attempt to defy me, you appear to have conveniently forgotten? Do you not recollect a certain night in the park at Mayvill not so very long ago, and do you not recollect that you there attempted to commit a foul and brutal murder—eh?”

He started quickly, then glared at me with the fire of a murderous hatred in his eyes.

“She’s told you, damn her! She’s given me away!” he exclaimed, with a contemptuous glance at his trembling wife.

“No, she has not,” was my response. “I myself chanced to be witness of your dastardly attempt upon her. It was I who succeeded in rescuing her from the river. For that action of yours you must now answer to me.”

“What do you mean?” he inquired, and from the lines in his countenance I saw that my outspoken manner caused him considerable uneasiness.

“I mean that it is not for you to attempt defiance, having regard to the fact that, had it not been for the fortunate circumstance of my presence in the park, you would to-day be a murderer.”

He shrank at that final word. Like all his class, he was arrogant and overbearing to the weak, but as easily cowed by firmness as a dog who cringes at his master’s voice.

“And now,” I continued, “I may as well tell you that, on the night when you would have killed this poor woman who is your victim, I also overheard your demands. You are a blackmailer—the meanest and worst type of criminal humanity—and you seem to have forgotten that there is a severe and stringent law against such an offence as yours. You demanded money by threats, and on refusal made a desperate endeavour to take your wife’s life. In the assize court the evidence I could give against you would put you into a term of penal servitude—you understand? Therefore I’ll make this compact with you; if you will promise not to molest your wife further, I will remain silent.”

“And who the deuce are you, pray, to talk to me in this manner—like a gaol chaplain on his weekly round!”

“You’d better keep a civil tongue, fellow, and just reflect upon my words,” I said. “I’m no man for argument. I act.”

“Act just as you like. I shall do as I think proper—you hear?”

“And you’ll take the risk? Very well,” I said. “You know the worst—prison.”

“And you don’t,” he laughed. “Otherwise you wouldn’t talk like a silly idiot. Mabel is my wife, and you’ve no say in the matter, so that’s enough for you,” he added insultingly. “Instead of trying to threaten me, it is I who have a right to demand why I find you here—with her.”

“I’ll tell you!” I cried angrily, my hands itching to give the impudent young blackguard a sound good hiding. “I’m here to protect her, because she is in fear of her life. And I shall remain here until you have gone.”

“But I’m her husband, therefore I shall stay,” sneered the fellow, perfectly unmoved.

“Then she leaves with me,” I said decisively.

“I’ll not allow that.”

“You will act just as I think proper,” I exclaimed. Then, turning to Mabel, who had remained white, silent and trembling, in fear lest we should come to blows, I said, “Put on your hat and coat at once. You must return to London with me.”

“She shall not!” he cried, unflinchingly. “If my curses could blast yer you’d have ’em thick.”

“Mabel,” I said, taking no notice of the ruffian’s words, but drawing back to allow her to pass out, “please get your coat. I have a fly waiting outside.”

The fellow made a movement as though to prevent her leaving the room, but in an instant my hand was heavily upon his shoulder, and by my face he saw that I was strong and determined.

“You’ll repent this!” he hissed threateningly, with an imprecation, between his teeth. “I know what you are searching for—but,” he laughed, “you’ll never obtain that secret which gave Blair his millions. You think you’ve a clue to it, but before long you’ll discover your mistake.”

“In what?”

“In not uniting with me, instead of insulting me.”

“I have no necessity for the assistance of any man who would kill a helpless woman,” I responded. “Recollect that in this affair you hold aloof from her, or, by Gad! without further ado, I’ll seek the aid of the police, when your past history will prove rather unwelcome evidence of character.”

“Do what you like,” he laughed again defiantly. “By giving me over to the police you’ll only be doing her the worst turn possible. If you doubt me, you’d better ask her. Be careful how you act before you make a fool of yourself and a victim of her.” And with this harsh, hollow sneer he threw himself into the armchair and placed his feet on the fender in an attitude of carelessness and calmly lit a cheap, rank cigar.

“There will be only one sufferer, never fear,” I said meaningly. “And that will be yourself.”

“All right,” he said, “we shall see.”

Then turning I left the room, and meeting Mabel, who stood ready dressed in the hall, whispering a hurried adieu to Bessie Wood, her old schoolfellow, I hurried her out, put her into the station fly, and drove with her back to Chipping Norton.

Even then, however, I could not understand the exact position of that young ruffian, Herbert Hales, or the true meaning of his final ominous words of open defiance.

For the present I had rescued my love from the arrogant, cold-blooded brute and blackmailer, but for how brief a space I dreaded to anticipate. My own position, utterly in the dark as I remained, was one of uncertainty and insecurity. I loved Mabel, but now had no right to do so. She was already the wife, alas! the victim, of a man of low type and of criminal instinct.

Our journey up to Paddington was uneventful, and in almost complete silence. Both our hearts, beating sadly, were too full for mere words. The insurmountable barrier had fallen between us; we were both grief-stricken and heart-broken. The hopeful past had ended, the future was one of dull and dark despair.

On arrival in London she expressed a desire to see Mrs Percival, and as she declined to return beneath the same roof as Dawson, I took her to the York Hotel in Albemarle Street, then, re-entering the cab, I drove to Grosvenor Square, where I informed the chaperon of my lost love’s whereabouts.

Not an instant did Mrs Percival delay in seeking her, and at midnight, accompanied by Reggie, I called again at the hotel, giving her certain injunctions to refuse to see her husband, even if he discovered her, and taking a lingering farewell of her, as we had arranged to leave Charing Cross for Italy by the mail at nine o’clock on the following morning.

Both Reggie and I had arrived at the conclusion that, now I was sufficiently recovered to travel, we should not lose an instant in going out to Tuscany, and investigating the truth regarding that cipher record.

So she bade us both farewell, and urging us not to worry further upon her account, although we did not fail to detect her wild anxiety as to the result of my defiance of her ruffianly husband, she wished us all good fortune and Godspeed in the exciting venture we were about to undertake, with success and a safe return.