vincent dashwood seemed to expand, he stood there smiling benignly, he had lost his strange uneasiness of manner altogether. and yet mary did not fail to notice the furtive look in his eyes. there must be something wrong here, she thought; it was impossible to regard this man as the head of the family. for three hundred years dashwood had been ruled by a gentleman, a man of honour.
and this smirking creature, with the red, grinning face and cunning eyes, was neither. mary knew him to be little better than a blackmailer. and if he was the person he claimed to be, why had he not come forward and proclaimed his identity before? she could not believe that vincent dashwood had hidden his light under a bushel merely because he was short of one particular document.
the girl did not believe that he would have spoken now had not the awkward incident of the matchbox compelled him to do so. and here was ralph darnley actually pushing forward the cause of the new claimant and giving him the one proof that he needed.
and yet the thing was impossible; surely the walls of the house would collapse about the head of so poor a ruler as vincent dashwood. the old familiar objects around mary filled her with a kind of dumb pain. she was going to lose them all--the pictures and the gardens, the horses in the stables, and the very deer that loved her. what the future held for her, mary had not considered. she brought herself back to the present with an effort; she became aware that vincent dashwood was speaking.
"this--this is really extraordinary," he cackled. "like a scene from a play. i had my own good reasons for not proclaiming my identity for the present, but you all see that circumstances have been too strong for me. and then at the critical moment mr. darnley comes along with that paper. how it came into his possession----"
"that is easily explained," ralph said in his grave way. "it was given to me by mr. ralph dashwood in circumstances that i need not go into here. primarily, the certificate was to have been forwarded to the solicitors of this estate."
"quite so, quite so," dashwood said loftily. "really, it doesn't matter. the point is that my proofs are now complete. my idea was to do nothing and say nothing till lady dashwood--my grandmother--had become resigned to the change in the condition of affairs. it is perhaps natural that the good lady should look coldly on me and that all her affection should be for mary here. and i am bound to say that mary has not treated me with the friendliness that i could have wished."
hot words rose to the girl's lips, but she checked herself with an effort. doubtless the new heir was doing his best to be agreeable, perhaps he did not know how offensive he was.
"but i am not going to be vindictive," he resumed. "it is only natural that you should feel a little sore and hurt. one doesn't turn out of a snug crib like this without turning a hair. as a matter of fact, there is no reason why you should go at all, at least, not for some time to come. i don't suppose i shall ever marry--i'm not that kind of chap. there is no reason why mary and the old gentleman and myself shouldn't be very snug here together. mr. dashwood wants little more than the run of his teeth at his time of life."
mary's cheeks flamed at the unconscious humiliation. she was being offered a home as a pauper and a dependent; it was infinitely worse than going into a workhouse. mary had never dreamed of being humbled and crushed in the dust like this. before she could reply, slight looked into the doorway, his dry, red face screwed up into the semblance of respect. he announced horace mayfield in a loud voice.
mayfield came in, glass in eye, serene and self-confident, his hard mouth looking more like a steel trap than ever. the quiet triumph in his eyes was not lost on mary; she did not fail to note the gleam of possession as he glanced at her. there was cold consolation in the knowledge that after all mayfield was powerless to hold her soul and body in thraldom any longer.
"i beg your pardon," mayfield said, "i seem to be intruding on a family conference or something of that kind. slight did not tell me, though i have every reason to believe that he was listening outside the door. what are you doing here?"
the question was flung headlong at vincent dashwood, who had started and changed colour as mayfield came in. evidently these two knew one another, for mayfield was rudely contemptuous, dashwood cringing yet defiant. was there yet another vulgar mystery here? mary wondered wearily.
"perhaps i had better explain," ralph said. "this, mr. mayfield, is an unexpected, but nevertheless dramatic situation. let me present you to sir vincent dashwood, only son and heir of the late ralph dashwood, who died some time ago. sir vincent had some natural hesitation in declaring his identity; he was loth to upset existing arrangements. we must all respect proper feeling of that kind. one reason sir vincent had for keeping his personality a secret was the fact that he lacked the legal proof of his parent's marriage. by a fortunate chance i was able to supply the omission. still, we need not go into that. the fact remains that sir vincent has now established his claim, as the family solicitors will admit without unnecessary delay. unhappily, this new condition of affairs makes it very awkward for sir george--i mean, mr. george dashwood. by this cruel stroke he finds himself practically a pauper. and on miss dashwood the blow falls with the same heavy weight. the heiress becomes dependent upon the charity of the head of the family."
as ralph spoke his eyes were fixed on mayfield's. he was searching keenly for any sign of anger or emotion. but mayfield did not betray himself. there was a red spark in his eyes and the big veins stood on his forehead, but nothing further. and as ralph proceeded a faint smile grew at the corners of the cruel mouth.
"this is exceedingly interesting," he said, "and to think that sir vincent should have kept this from so old a friend as myself."
there was mocking bitterness in the speech and dashwood fairly writhed under it. he seemed to hang in a kind of agony on the next word. his sigh of relief as mayfield turned from him was not lost on mary. mayfield turned abruptly to the girl.
"this will make a great difference to you," he said. "for my own part, i am disappointed at the strange turn of affairs. still, i am philosophic enough to take my chances. in reality i came here to say goodbye to you. i will not see you for some time to come."
the whole thing was so cool, so icily audacious, that mary had no words for reply. this man had accepted the change in the situation with instant readiness, there was not so much as a shade of regret in his voice. mary had gone out of the sphere of his affection, and he was prepared to drop her like an old glove. the blood flamed into her face at this fresh humiliation; the pride of the family was serving her badly now. her trembling hands went out to ralph. he saw what was passing in her mind.
"take me away from here," she whispered. "take me out into the fresh air or i shall die. what have i done to deserve this degradation? and get my father to come, too. has he lost all his manhood that he stays here?"
they went out into the sunshine and the air at length, and dashwood was alone with mayfield. the latter closed the door and lighted a cigarette. there was a grim ferocity in his eyes that caused dashwood to turn sick.
"so you've done it, you rascal," mayfield muttered. "i daresay you will tell me that your hand was more or less forced. perhaps it was. and yet if i raise my little finger you will pass the next ten years of your life in gaol."
"don't," dashwood said with difficulty, "don't talk like that. the cards were all of them literally forced on me. why should you mind?"
"why should i mind? why, man alive, you have 'queered my pitch' as some of your dissolute companions would say. i was going to marry mary dashwood, the great heiress, everything was ready to my hand. a little later and the thing would have been accomplished. only one thing bothered me--i am at my wit's ends for some ready money, which i must have before long. and, as things stand at present, mary dashwood could not raise anything on her expectations. but i was going to play the bold game and risk everything, even my liberty, on this stake. i was never more surprised in my life than when that fellow darnley explained the situation. i nearly gave you away."
"i saw that," dashwood said hoarsely, "my heart was in my mouth. it was very good of you to remember an old pal who----"
"old pal be hanged," mayfield cried. "i'd have betrayed you fast enough had it been to my interest to do so. i saw my game like a flash. they are going to let you into the thing without a fight. but not for very long, my boy, so you had better make the most of your time. as sir vincent dashwood you are all right, you can play ducks and drakes with the estate if you please; in fact, you are going to start with a mortgage of £50,000. that sum of money you will pay over to me."
"what for?" dashwood asked uneasily. "why should i do it?"
"call it what you like. call it blackmail. but i'm going to have it all the same."
