belden was the only guest at the dinner at mr. waddie’s in recognition of his care of diana. it was a satisfactory affair to him, the principal actor. the to eat was good; the to drink sparkling; the to wit brilliant; the to woo he thought promising.
it was not late when mr. belden reached the millard on return from this fortunate occasion. they were hopping, reciprocating to the nilvederes. there was tempting wealth of étalage, but belden slipped through the side door and up to his room. he took from one of his double-locked trunks a small tin case, such as men who have securities keep them in. he unlocked the case and took from it a bundle of papers, old papers carefully enveloped. they were endorsed “ira waddy’s letters.”
belden opened the parcel and looked at several of the letters. some were signed “ira waddy,” or “ira”; some “sally bishop.” they were such letters as some women exchange with some men, but such as only vile men and women write.[178] belden seemed to enjoy the tone of these epistles hugely.
“what a bitch that girl was,” he said to himself. “waddy missed it when he was such a puritan with her. she was a bad one to have for enemy. she thought getting up the letters a glorious joke. how we roared over some passages. i think i should have let the thing drop after proposing it, if she hadn’t been so mad for it. it was a devilish risky thing to do. the fellow would kill me in a minute if he knew it, but sally won’t peach before she dies, i think. the other woman is safe, damn her! she and waddy are the only two people that ever baffled me. but i’ve had what i call a neat revenge—i should think so. she might much better have smiled upon me for her own good. as to waddy, he don’t seem over-civil now. i shouldn’t mind closing the whole thing up by shooting him. miss diana seems to have a liking for fighting men. i’m getting on fast with her. she’s a little of a bolter, but i can soon tame her, once in hand. well, i thought i would burn these letters, but they’re a little too rich. when i’m engaged to her, i’ll burn ’em and reform. some people would call it forgery—writing those documents—bah! what’s forgery!”
he began scribbling names in various hands: his own, ira waddy, diana, betty bud, bet budlong, sally bishop, tootler, janeway, sullivan, perkins,[179] and others, just as recollection seemed to associate those whom he had known in former life or now.
while he was scribbling, there came a knock at the door.
“who’s there?” called belden, tossing the papers into their case.
“hit’s me, sir,” answered a cockney voice.
belden unlocked the door and admitted a very bandy-legged groom, neatly enough dressed, but topped by a most knavish head and face.
“well, figgins,” said his master, “what do you want?”
“will ye ’ave knockknees, sir, hin the mornink harely? ye can go hon the beach hat sevenk.”
“bring him up at seven, then; the race must come off now in a few days. i’m ringing in these precious greenhorns. they’ll all run their damned cows, but they haven’t got enough to bleed much. i want to get that fellow in with his black horse. he’ll bleed gold. can i beat him on the square, do you think?”
“hi dunno, sir,” said figgins, “’e’s a stepper, his that black. hi never see such a ’oss for clean goin’. you mout beat, hand you moutn’t. but p’r’aps ’e’ll be summat sick,—a little sick, ’nough to take the edge hoff ’im hat the race.”
“perhaps he will,” agreed belden, instantly accepting the hint. “you might look at him once or[180] twice and let me know whether it’s likely. you know where his stable is—can you get in?”
“there’s keys to be ’ad, i s’pose. do you want ’im to show hat all?”
“oh, yes, i hope he’ll be well enough to make good play. he might win a heat—then i can get more out of ’em. you understand? it will pay you devilish well if i win a jolly pile.”
“hi see, sir,” said figgins, and with a furtive look at the tin case, he went out.
belden locked the case and put it away. the full luxurious sound of music from the hall swelled up again after a pause and filled the room. some men are purified from baser wishes by the delicate sensualities of passionate music; but not such men as belden.
“ah, a galop!” he thought. “i must go down and have a stampede and hug with mrs. bud. dear betty bud! i think i get on rather faster with her than with miss diana.”
he went to the glass to arrange his toilet for the deranging struggles of the hop. he did not perceive that the look of his three villainies of the evening was stamped upon his face—three, one remembered, two meditated. he thought it was the effect of age, the change he began to be conscious of in his appearance. but age, of those whose lives are worthy to endure, softens and tranquillises expression and harmonises colouring; it does not[181] darken the shadows where they had grown dark on his face, nor give the unpeaceful and uneasy look he had.
“i must hold up for a while,” he thought. “i wish i could keep away from that damned faro place. my luck is dished lately. however, i’ll make that race square the accounts. if it don’t, i’m up a tree.”
he went down jacob’s ladder. millard’s parlour was nearly as deserted as its namesake of political supporters. all the millarders and the nilvederes, with a decimation of outsiders and farthermores, were taking their constitutional perspiration bath in the dining rooms—tables having been turned out for the occasion. trotting polkas, racking redowas, cantering waltzes, galloping galops—bipeds were being put through all their paces.
the old flirtations were going on swimmingly in the damp intervals of dance; and lo! a new one. bob o’link was for the first time devoted to miss anthrope. that strong-minded young person had, in the most feeble-minded manner, succumbed at once when bob o’ suddenly and newly appeared in the ballroom and unanimously singled her out for a permanent partner.
“miss anthrope has decided to take a false position,” said peter skerrett to gyas and cloanthus, who were swabbing and drying off at the door.
“no! has she, though!” said gyas. “what[182] is it? she looks to me as well on her pins as usual.”
“she is going to marry for money—that is the false position, a pillory that neither man nor woman ever escaped from. well, bob o’ will stand by her better than most fellows. look at the chap. he is as sure to win in love, particularly the bought variety, as at billiards.”
“stand by, peter,” said gyas; “i’m going to say a good thing. miss anthrope will be linked to link, in the links of high man’s chain. capital, isn’t it? now, clo, don’t you get ahead of me and say that to julia.”
“honour among friends,” returned cloanthus. “i’ll take you odds, guy, on bob o’link. ten to one he gets her in ten days; five to one in five days; two to one on to-morrow—and even it’s done to-night.”
“you’d better save your money, boys,” said peter. “not that you’ll spend it in charity, but you’ll want it all to pay what you’ll lose on the race belden is getting up.”
“there he comes now with mrs. budlong,” said gyas cutus. “by golly, isn’t she a stunner! belden looks deuced hard to-night.”
“you’ll find him hard enough—hard as one of millard’s eggs. i recommend you both to keep away from him and his horse,” said peter.
here the music struck up a galop and the two[183] flexible youths, pocketing their moist batistes, tore wildly into the affray. mr. belden dashed by with mrs. budlong in his arms.
he had found her tête-à-tête with de châteaunéant. their whispered conversation closed as belden approached, and bowed his request for a dance. “hot nubbless” looked after her wickedly as she moved away.
sir comeguys, passing with granby, looked into the parlour. sir com saw the frenchman standing there with his vicious look and his clenched fist.
“gwanby,” said the bold and battailous briton, “i can’t be wong—that is the scoundwel that helped to wob me in pawis. he called himself lavallette then, or some such name.”
