ralph's first feeling was one of contempt. it was almost incredible that a man of sir george's position could behave in so childish and weak a fashion. here was the diplomatist who had been so popular in paris, so bland and dignified, assuming the rôle of a silly girl who had lost some foolish ornament. for the time being he had cast his manhood entirely behind him. he sat on the couch with the tears streaming down his cheeks, great sobs burst from his chest.
"gone!" he wailed. "absolutely vanished. i locked them up in a desk last night, or the night before, and now they have disappeared. don't tell me they have not been stolen, because i know better. besides, nothing else is disturbed. and those papers were there to prove my absolute claim to dashwood hall. with those documents in my possession i could have raised as much money as i needed. i could have returned here in a day or two and rid myself of that scoundrel, mayfield, for ever. he meant to cover me with ignominy and disgrace, but the fire prevented that. and now he has managed to get those papers stolen."
"that is impossible," ralph cried. "he did not know of their existence."
"why not! how can you prove that he didn't know? he is one of the cleverest scoundrels in the world. he gets to know everything, and he was actually under my roof on the very night that the papers were so marvellously recovered. it is just possible that he was spying about all the time."
"it does not seem at all probable," lady dashwood said in a faint whisper.
"oh, yes, it does," sir george replied. "i'm quite ready to argue it out either way. we will admit that mayfield didn't know till later, till the next morning, in fact, when i told him what had happened, and practically ordered him out of the house. he saw at once then that he no longer held me in his grip; he wanted nobody to tell him that those precious papers were close at hand. he made up his mind to obtain possession of them without delay. therefore, he invented the idea of the fire--a fire that would cause a deal of smoke and confusion and yet not do much harm. under cover of the fire he stole the papers."
ralph was listening with a kind of painful toleration of the snuffling speaker. a startling idea came into his mind now. he glanced at lady dashwood, who seemed to read his thoughts. in the light of their especial knowledge, facts pointed to quite another individual as the culprit. if the fire had been the work of an incendiary, then that criminal was undoubtedly vincent dashwood, whose matchbox had been found in the ashes. vincent dashwood had palpably been uneasy when the missing matchbox had been mentioned, he was still more uneasy at ralph's suggestion that he had been hanging about dashwood hall within an hour or so of the outbreak. was there some deep and powerful reason why vincent dashwood desired to see the old house burnt to the ground? was it to bury some secret in the ashes?
the more ralph pondered over this, the deeper the mystery became. he could see quite clearly how mayfield's scheme would benefit by possession of those papers. what he could not fathom was what vincent dashwood had to gain by a disastrous fire. he would go into this without taking anybody into his confidence, ralph thought. there was yet another danger that struck much closer at the root of his happiness--the position in which mary stood in the face of this catastrophe.
he glanced across at the girl, who stood on the far side of the drawing-room with the light of the shaded lamps on her face. he could see that her features were pale and drawn, that there was a hunted, haunted look in her eyes. it was quite evident that she fully appreciated the danger of the situation. and yet the feeling uppermost in her mind was the feeling of bitterness and sorrow for the sorry part her father was playing.
"i should like to understand the position fully," she said. "what difference does the loss of those papers imply? cannot you do without them, father?"
"i am helpless, my dear," sir george groaned. "i am the head of the family, and the man who enjoys the revenue of the estates, and i shall probably continue to do so until i die. but for the next six months or so i could not raise a penny on the property, not till the time mentioned in the late owner's will expires, when i become legally possessed of everything, even though a direct heir of ralph dashwood appears. then i can borrow as much money as i please. now, i am absolutely at the mercy of horace mayfield."
the pallor on mary's face deepened; hope faded from her heart. she was in the toils again and made no attempt to disguise the fact. it was quite immaterial to her who had those papers, so long as they were gone.
"let me make the position quite clear," she went on, in a hard, level voice. "let us revert to the condition of affairs existing before those papers were found; let us assume that they never existed at all. you owe a very large sum of money, father, a sum that it is impossible for you to pay. if you fail to raise the amount, which we may take for granted, something like disgrace and dishonour falls on you. that is not your fault, i know, but other people will not think so, and the head of the house of dashwood will stand before his fellow men stamped as little better than a felon. is that so?"
"that is the way in which the world will regard it," sir george groaned.
"quite so, father. you can't find the money, and nobody will find it for you. as i know already, it is useless to appeal to lady dashwood."
"quite, my dear," lady dashwood murmured. "i would give anything to avert the disgrace, but i have nothing. i am a wicked old woman, and my sins are finding me out. i have parted with everything, even to my jewels, to keep a certain secret, and i see now that the sacrifice is going to be all in vain."
mary turned and laid a soothing hand on the speaker's arm. there was something sweet, almost affectionate in the action.
"a fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind," she said bitterly. "after all there is a way out of the trouble, there has been a way out all along. our blessing in disguise in the matter seems to be mr. mayfield. we will ignore for the moment that he has himself brought the situation about for his own ends. the fact remains that he can keep the disgrace away. he has offered to avert the catastrophe at a price. i am the price. by saying one simple word everything is changed. and in six months, you, my father, are master of dashwood absolutely. i have only to say, 'yes,' and the thing is done. it is a simple little word, which has been the cause of untold misery to thousands of poor girls. but, after all, there have been greater sacrifices for less satisfactory results. and now let us go into dinner."
the girl spoke quietly enough, but nothing could disguise the bitterness and scorn that rang in every word. it was all very wrong, it was dictated by motives clearly open to question, but in spite of everything, it seemed to ralph that he had never admired mary more than he did at that moment. he knew of the anguish of disappointment and despair that filled her cup to overflowing; he could realise the difference that the last half-hour had made to her outlook on life; he knew how much she hated and despised the man to whom she was once more tied by the hands of fate.
he knew also that filial love and affection had nothing whatever to do with the fatal resolve. it was family pride that was the mainspring of the action. mary stood there, proud and defiant now, with the lamplight streaming on her face, and ralph knew now that the time was coming for him to act. the lesson would have to be learned, the bread of affliction must be eaten to the last sour crust.
"will mr. darnley please to ring the bell?" mary went on evenly. "we shall have the servants wondering what is the matter. it is already half-past eight, and punctuality is one of the cardinal virtues at the dower house. if you will look into the mirror opposite, father, you will see that your tie is all disarranged. . . . give me your arm, mr. darnley?"
there was not a trace of any emotion now about mary. she watched her father rearranging his tie with a critical air; she began to discuss the flowers on the dinner table as if nothing had happened out of the common. she bore the brunt of the conversation all dinner time, for the others were strangely silent. from time to time mary flashed a challenge from her eyes to ralph, as if defiantly ignoring his views. and yet she dreaded her next meeting with darnley. she knew him to be poor and friendless, she believed him to be of no particular family, but still she valued his good opinion deeply. she would have denied that if it had been put to her directly, but in her heart of hearts she could not disguise the true state of her feelings.
"why are you looking at me so?" she said.
"was i?" ralph asked. "i had no idea that my looks betrayed me so badly. but i will discuss the matter with you when we are alone."
it was an audacious speech, but it sounded quite naturally from ralph's lips. mary could feel the colour rising to her cheeks; she felt annoyed that she could not better control her feelings. for the rest of the meal she was silent like the rest, and said no more till lady dashwood gave the signal for departure.
